Academy's Pervert in the D Class

"I've got dishes. I will get done with these soon." The clatter of plates was a feeble attempt to mask the flush creeping up her cheeks, her brunette hair sticking to her damp skin as she scrubbed with forced focus.

Vela didn't move, her presence a steady weight in the small kitchen.

She leaned one hip against the counter, arms folding lazily across her chest, her sports bra straining against the taut lines of her torso.

Her green eyes fixed on the curve of Maris's skirt, the fabric clinging to her hips as she bent forward slightly over the sink, the motion accentuating the soft swell of her ass.

Vela's lips twitched, a smirk playing at the edges as she watched, silent.

The steady sound of water filled the silence, the rhythmic slosh of Maris's scrubbing punctuated by the faint hum of her earlier tune.

Sunlight poured through the open window, glinting off the stream of water, catching the suds in a prism of light.

Maris's shoulders were tight, her movements quick, almost frantic, as if she could wash away the tension Vela's words had stirred.

Then, without warning, Vela reached out and delivered a sharp spank to Maris's ass, the sound cracking through the kitchen like a whip.

Maris gasped, jerking upright, the cup nearly slipping from her hands to clatter into the sink.

"Vela!" Her voice was a mix of shock and indignation, her cheeks blazing crimson, but her body didn't move away, her feet rooted to the floor.

Vela grinned, tilting her head, her cropped green hair catching the light.

"What? Just helping you relax." Her voice was low, teasing, laced with a challenge that made the air hum.

"That's not—" Maris sputtered, her hands trembling as she gripped the cup, soap suds dripping down her wrists.

Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck, but she didn't step away, her body betraying the flutter of something more than embarrassment.

Vela's palm smoothed over the curve of Maris's ass, her touch firm but slow, squeezing as if testing the ripeness of fruit at the market.

"Feels good to me," she murmured, her voice dropping to a husky purr that sent a shiver through the air.

Maris's breath hitched, her body trembling as she gripped the edge of the sink, the cup forgotten in the water.

"You… you're impossible," she whispered, her voice wavering, caught between protest and surrender.

Vela leaned in close, her lips brushing the side of Maris's neck, her hot breath making the damp skin prickle with goosebumps.

"And you're blushing," she teased, her voice a velvet caress, her lips grazing the sensitive curve just below Maris's ear.

The sponge slipped from Maris's grip, splashing into the water with a soft plop.

She froze as Vela's other hand slid up, bold and unapologetic, moving from her waist to her chest.

Fingers closed around one breast through the damp fabric of her blouse, squeezing firmly, the pressure sending a jolt through Maris's body.

She moaned before she could stop herself, a small, broken sound that echoed louder than the water, raw and unguarded.

Vela chuckled against her ear, the sound rich and wicked.

"See? You like impossible." Her hand moved to the other breast, cupping and kneading, her thumbs brushing over stiff nipples that pressed against the thin, wet fabric, coaxing them harder.

Maris arched into the touch without meaning to, her back curving, her wet hands gripping the sink's edge for balance, her knuckles whitening.

"Vela…" she whispered, her voice weak, trembling with a mix of shame and need, her eyes squeezing shut as if she could block out the intensity.

"Shh," Vela murmured, her lips kissing Maris's shoulder, then trailing up her neck to the corner of her jaw, each press hot and deliberate.

Maris tilted her head almost helplessly, her lips parting, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

And then Vela claimed her mouth.

The kiss was messy, hungry, a collision of lips and tongues that carried the faint tang of soap from Maris's skin.

Maris moaned softly into Vela's mouth, her tongue meeting hers with a desperate edge, her hands abandoning the sink to clutch at Vela's waist, fingers digging into the toned muscle beneath her sports bra.

Their bodies pressed close, curves molding to hard edges, Maris's soft breasts crushing against Vela's firm chest, the heat between them igniting like a spark in dry tinder.

Vela's strong thigh slid between Maris's legs, lifting slightly, rubbing against the heat beneath her skirt, the friction drawing a sharp gasp from Maris's throat.

She broke the kiss, panting, her chest heaving, her blouse clinging to her sweat-slicked skin.

"The girls—" she managed, her voice breathless, a last grasp at restraint.

"They're gone," Vela cut her off, her voice firm as she kissed her again, harder, her lips claiming Maris's with a fierce intensity that left no room for doubt.

Lor pressed closer to the window, his cock straining painfully against his trousers, the fabric tight and unforgiving.

His heart pounded, a wild rhythm that echoed in his ears as he watched, his eyes glued to the sight of the two women entangled—Maris's soft curves yielding to Vela's strength, their lips locked, their breaths mingling in the steamy air.

The forbidden intimacy was a fire in his veins, his plan unfolding more perfectly than he'd dared to hope.

Vela pulled back, her smirk sharp and knowing, her green eyes glinting with triumph.

She gave Maris another sharp spank, the sound cracking through the kitchen, making Maris moan outright, her body leaning forward over the sink, her breasts heaving against her blouse.

"Perfect view," Vela murmured, her voice low and teasing as she lifted Maris's skirt slowly, inch by inch, revealing the pale, creamy expanse of her thighs, then the full curve of her ass.

White panties stretched across it, the fabric already damp, clinging to the glistening folds beneath.

Maris whimpered, half-turning her head, her cheeks blazing.

"We… we shouldn't—" Her voice was a weak protest, undermined by the way her hips shifted toward Vela's touch.