Dawn nods once, still a little flushed, and steps further into Henry's room. The door clicks shut behind her.

She sits on the edge of the bed beside him, her black skirt riding up a little as she settles, her long hair falling forward when she leans in to look at your phone. The video is clear to her now: a pale goth girl with dark lipstick and thick thighs, slowly working a cock between them, the wet sound of skin on skin matching the rhythm on screen.

"...Fuck," she murmurs under her breath, eyes fixed on the way those thighs squeeze and glide. Her own hips shift on the mattress when she feels a heat between her legs growing sharper.

She glances at him, then back at the screen, then down at the shape of you still under the duvet.

"She's got good thighs," she says quietly. Her voice is lower now, the embarrassment still there but mixing with something hungrier. "Looks... effective."

[TO BE CONTINUED]