Sunday morning crept in slow and golden through the big kitchen windows. The house still smelled faintly of last night’s popcorn and s*x. Ava and Mia were already up, moving around the island in nothing but tiny tank tops and panties, making coffee and pancakes like this was the most normal weekend ever.
Ava’s auburn hair was piled messily on her head, her full ass peeking out every time she reached for something high. Mia’s blonde ponytail swung as she danced a little to the music playing from her phone, the thin strap of her camisole slipping off one shoulder.
I walked in wearing just my boxers, morning wood already straining from the sight of them. They both turned, eyes lighting up.
“Morning, stud,” Ava said, licking batter off her finger in a way that was definitely not innocent.
