Lonely Housewife

Kendra's husband never comes home and her kid's always out chasing pussy. She wanders her ghost-town neighborhood feeling like a desperate housewife nobody wants. One afternoon two striking women move in next door—Chanel Preston and Dana DeArmond. They look so much alike Kendra assumes they're sisters. She bakes a quick batch of cookies, knocks on their front door, gets no answer, then circles around back. Through the sliding glass she catches them on the couch, tongues deep, hands all over each other. Definitely lovers, not sisters. They spot her peeking, and instead of freaking out they just smirk and wave her inside. Kendra stammers an apology and says she only wanted to say hello, make some goddamn friends for once. Chanel and Dana grin, pull her in, pour drinks. They spot the hunger behind her nervous smile and start peeling it off layer by layer—hands on her waist, compliments in her ear, fingers brushing the bare skin under her blouse. Slowly, deliberately, they turn that lonely ache into something hot and dripping. By the time they're tugging her panties aside and sucking on her tits, Kendra stops caring about anything except how good it feels to finally be touched. Two pairs of lips, two greedy tongues, and for the first time in years she feels wanted, filthy, and completely fucking alive.