Magic the entering

By the time the plates are empty Sandra is already looking for an opening.

She stands up, still completely naked, and stretches in a way that makes her tits lift and settle heavily. A fresh bead of slick streches from between her thighs to where she sat.

“Hey… we should play Magic,”
she says, trying to sound casual.
“In the bedroom. Cooler up there. And all the decks are already on the wall.”

You both walk upstairs. The hallway feels longer than usual. Her bare ass sways right in front of you the whole way, soft cheeks shifting with every step, the puffy lips of her pussy peeking out from behind whenever she moves just right.

The bedroom is dim and quiet. Curtains drawn. Her queen bed is neatly made with water bottles waiting on the nightstand. The far wall is covered in the usual shelves and boxes of decks—yours mixed in with hers from years of leaving them here.

You both stand in front of the shelves, naked, close enough that you can feel the heat coming off her skin. Choosing decks somehow takes forever. She picks one up, looks at it, puts it back, picks another. You do the same.

Then you reach behind her for the Landfall deck on the higher shelf.

Your chest brushes her bare back.

The contact is light at first—just skin on skin—but neither of you pulls away. Instead you both press in a little more without thinking. Your cock, already hard again, rests against the soft curve of her ass. Sandra’s breath catches, but she doesn’t step forward. She just keeps staring at the decks like she’s still deciding, even as her body leans back into yours.

Your hands start moving on their own.

One slides around her waist, then lower, cupping and squeezing one full cheek of her ass. The other comes up and finds her breast, fingers spreading over the soft weight, thumb brushing across the swollen nipple. She is warm and still slightly damp from the shower. When you knead her tit a soft, shaky exhale leaves her. When your fingers dig into her ass and pull her back against your cock she presses into the touch instead of away.

She takes even longer to “decide.”

Her voice comes out quiet and a little unsteady, still trying to hold the old tone.

“I can’t… pick. Maybe the control deck… or the midrange one…”

She doesn’t stop your hands. She doesn’t even pretend to reach for another box. She just stands there with her back against your chest, letting you molest her—squeezing her heavy tits, groping her soft ass, grinding the thick length of your cock between her cheeks—while she keeps up the thin excuse of choosing cards.

Her pussy is visibly dripping again. A thin string of slick has started to run down the inside of one thigh. Every time your fingers roll her nipple or spread her ass cheeks she lets out a tiny sound she tries to swallow.

She’s already grinding hard against you.

Sandra’s soft, wet pussy lips drag up and down the length of your cock with every slow roll of her hips, coating the entire shaft in her slick. The head keeps catching against her entrance and sliding past it, leaving shiny trails of her arousal all over you. Your hands have completely abandoned any pretence—both of them cupping and massaging her heavy tits, thumbs rolling over the swollen nipples, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as you pull her tighter against you.

She finally reaches up, fingers closing around the mono-blue control deck.

She turns her head, face flushed deep pink, eyes glassy, and tries for the old joking tone even while she’s rubbing her soaked cunt along your cock.

“I’m gonna counterspell every single thing you—”

The words die.

Your faces are suddenly only half an inch apart. Noses almost touching. Her breath is warm and shaky against your lips. Neither of you moves. You just stare at each other for long, heavy seconds, the only sound the wet slide of her pussy grinding on your dick and the soft, needy little noises she’s trying not to make.

Then your hips shift at the same time hers do.

The thick head of your cock catches properly at her entrance and sinks in.

One smooth, deep thrust and you’re buried to the hilt inside her. Her pussy stretches wide around you, hot and dripping, walls already fluttering and clenching like she’s been waiting for this exact feeling again. A broken, shameless moan spills out of her throat.

The control deck slips from her fingers.

Cards explode across the floor in a messy cascade of blue and white, scattering under the shelves and across the carpet. She doesn’t even look.

Her hands come up, one curling around the back of your neck, the other gripping your shoulder hard. She surges the last half-inch forward and crashes her mouth against yours.

The kiss is desperate, open, hungry—nothing friendly left in it. Her tongue slides against yours immediately, wet and eager, while her pussy squeezes tight around the full length of your cock. She moans into your mouth every time you throb inside her, hips already starting to rock, trying to take you even deeper.

You’re fully inside your childhood best friend, kissing her like you’ll die if you stop, cards everywhere on the floor, and neither of you is pretending anymore.