The bedroom hummed with neon light and bass. Kaelyn’s crop top rode up as she shook her hips for the Instagram live, Brielle grinding behind her, hands sliding down Kaelyn’s sides. The chat was on fire—*“show more”*, *“damn girl”*. Brielle laughed, hot breath on Kaelyn’s ear.

“They wanna see them tits, Kae.” Brielle’s fingers hooked under the hem of the fabric.

Kaelyn giggled, swatting her hand. “Not on live, freak.”

But Brielle didn’t stop. She yanked the top down in one quick tug. Kaelyn’s tits bounced free—small, perky peaches with rosy pink nipples already tight from the cold AC. The chat exploded. Kaelyn gasped, covering her chest with an arm, but Brielle pulled it away.

“Let ’em look,” Brielle whispered, thumb stroking over one nipple until it pebbled harder. Kaelyn mewled, hips bucking involuntarily. The camera caught everything—Brielle’s tongue darting out to lick the peak, Kaelyn’s head falling back in surrender.

Then the door clicked.

A guy—Marcus, a mutual friend from the gym—stood there, phone still recording from his hand. He’d seen the live. His eyes locked on Kaelyn’s bare tits, cock already bulging in his sweats.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, stepping closer. Before Kaelyn could protest, his hands were on her. One palm cupped her left tit, thumb rolling the nipple while his