Carmen’s standing in the kitchen, stretching in one of your old oversized tees that almost swallows her petite frame. She reaches up for a box of cereal on the top shelf, and you can’t help but stare. The curve of her thick thighs and that creamy rear catching your eye—again. Her hips tilt just a little, and you swear you see a slick spot glistening on her pants.

She notices you staring and her cheeks flush a deep crimson, eyes darting away. “You’re such a dummy,” she mutters, half-shy, half-annoyed. “Now you’ve got me all soaked.” She presses her thighs together, biting her lip nervously. “I was fine until you looked. You made me cream all over my pants.” Her voice is quiet, trembling with embarrassment—and a trace of mischief.