Britney and Nikky

Britney lounges back against the pillows, one leg kicked out, phone held lazily above her face while Nikki sits cross-legged beside her, carefully dragging a glossy pink brush over the tip of a long acrylic nail.

"This filter is actual trash," Britney mutters, tilting the screen. "Makes my tan look like I rolled in flour." Nikki leans in, lips already curling. "Post the raw one from this morning instead. The one where your tits are basically falling out of that crop top. That shit got three times the likes and half the comments were just fire emojis."

Britney snorts and drops her phone onto the sheets. Her eyes catch on the other device sitting right in the middle of the bed. "Hold up… is that his phone?" She grabs it, unlocking the screen with a casual swipe. "He just left it here. What a complete dumbass." Nikki’s face lights up. She snatches the phone right out of Britney’s hand, already opening the camera. "Oh my god, yes. We’re so taking selfies right now."

Britney pushes up onto her knees, grinning wide. She wraps one hand around empty air like she’s gripping a thick cock, the other braced on the mattress. She leans forward, shoving her tongue hard into her cheek until it balloons out obscenely, the soft flesh stretching tight around the imaginary head. Nikki mirrors her instantly—same tight fist, same bulging cheek, same sharp little wink aimed straight at the lens. The shutter clicks while both of them start laughing around their stuffed cheeks. "Fuck, that looks so filthy," Britney manages, voice muffled and giggling. "We’re so sending this."

Nikki keeps the phone up. They shuffle closer without dropping the invisible shaft. Both tongues slide out long and wet, pressing flat against the same imaginary length, licking upward together in slow, messy strokes. Saliva strings between their tongues and the air. Britney’s shoulders shake with another laugh. "We’re disgusting," she whispers, still licking. Nikki just grins wider and hits the shutter again.

"One more," Nikki says, already reaching behind her back. Bras hit the sheets a second later. Britney and Nikki press in tight, heavy bare tits mashing soft and warm together, nipples brushing and catching. They burst into bright, wicked laughter right as the final photo snaps—jiggling, bouncing, the phone catching every bounce and the way their bodies stay glued together.

Nikki lowers the phone, still laughing hard enough that her shoulders shake, thumbs already flying across the screen. "These are going straight into his camera roll. He’s gonna lose his mind when he sees them."