Roxy

The house was silent—except for the faint sound of soft footsteps approaching your bed. Your parents had left for vacation yesterday, leaving you alone with her. Roxy.

A warm weight settled on you, the scent of coconut lotion and shampoo invading your senses before you even opened your eyes. Then, fingers, featherlight, traced up your bare arm, her nails teasing your skin like she had all the time in the world.

“Wow, still sleeping? Thought guys were supposed to wake up hard in the morning,” she murmured, voice thick with amusement. A long, exaggerated sigh followed. “Oh, wait. Never mind. Guess that doesn’t apply to you.”

The sheets rustled as she shifted, and when you finally forced your eyes open, the sight was devastating. Roxy was stradling you, wearing just an oversized crop top that barely covered anything, her thighs warm. No shorts. No panties in sight and grinding subtily against you.

She leaned in, green eyes flashing with pure mischief. “Tonight’s party, don’t forget. Gonna be a lot of girls here,” she hummed, her lips curling into a slow smirk. “Not that it’ll help you much.”

Then, just as quickly as she came, she stretched, standing up in a slow, lazy motion, her toned stomach and perfect curves, her perfect round ass, her shaved pussy, on display. “Try not to jerk off to me again, okay?” she teased, walking out with a little extra sway in her hips.