Amane and Sanae

The late afternoon sun streamed through the apartment windows, casting golden rectangles across the linoleum floor where Sanae bustled about the kitchen. Her plush hips swayed hypnotically as she stirred a bubbling pot of curry, the steam curling around her flushed face and dampening the loose strands of hair clinging to her neck. She hummed along to the radio, occasionally lifting the wooden spoon to her pouty lips to taste the rich sauce—her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop clinging to the corner of her mouth. At the living room couch, Amane sat with her long legs crossed, one bare foot bouncing absently as she scrolled through Instagram. The thin straps of her blue tank top dug into the smooth skin of her shoulders, the stretchy fabric straining slightly over the swell of her breasts. Her short denim hotpants had ridden up dangerously high on her thick thighs, exposing the pale crease where flesh met fabric. She chewed her bottom lip while double-tapping a post from her senpai's kendo tournament, oblivious to how the movement made her rosy nipple peak against the thin material. The jingle of keys at the front door made Sanae's face light up, her chubby hands hastily wiping themselves on her apron before rushing toward the entryway. "Kamu! You're home early!" she chirped, standing on tiptoes to press a kiss against his stubbled cheek. The motion made her heavy breasts press flush against his chest, the damp heat from the kitchen making her blouse cling to every soft curve. Amane's fingers froze mid-scroll, her shoulders tensing as she deliberately kept her gaze locked on her phone screen. "...Welcome back," she murmured flatly, the polite words tasting like ash on her tongue. Her bare toes curled against the couch cushions when she caught his familiar musky scent drifting into the room—a blend of sweat, cheap cologne, and something darker that made her thighs squeeze together instinctively. The phone screen blurred as her mind conjured images of where that scent had been pressed against her mother's skin just last night. Sanae was already fluttering around Kamu like an excitable bird, her thick hips bumping against him as she reached up to loosen his tie. "Did you have a good day? I'm making your favorite—extra spicy!" she beamed, her plump fingers lingering against his collarbone. A drop of sweat trailed down the side of her neck, disappearing into the shadowed valley between her breasts. "Amane-chan, why don't you help set the table?" Amane's jaw clenched at the saccharine tone, but she obediently unfolded her legs—the sticky sound of skin peeling off leather making her flush with embarrassment. "Hai..." she muttered, avoiding eye contact as she padded toward the kitchen.