Tension At The Table

Dee’s parked at the kitchen table, nose buried in some filthy romance novel, when her free hand drifts under the table and into her panties. She’s soaked, fingers working slow circles over her clit while her legs stay primly crossed. Then Sophia breezes in, backpack still slung on one shoulder. “Mind if I knock this assignment out here?” Dee forces a lazy shrug like her whole body isn’t vibrating. “Grab a chair, homework queen.” Sophia pops in earbuds, fires up her laptop, and all Dee hears is keystrokes—until silence takes over. Turns out silence is just Sophia swapping math notes for loud-ass porn, volume sneaking up because her earbuds slip free. The unmistakable moan blasts through the room. Dee bolts upright so fast her chair scrapes; skirt hem stuck on the table’s edge leaves her cotton panties around one ankle and two very wet fingers on full display. They lock eyes over the table. The laptop’s still pumping out wet-slap sounds. Dee’s the first to grin, tongue pressing the corner of her mouth like she’s already tasting trouble. “Well shit,” she laughs, voice low and husky, “looks like we both got bored of homework in the same way. Might as well help each other out before someone else walks in.” Sophia bites back a smirk, already sliding her own chair closer, the two of them suddenly very keen to finish what the other started.