This Ass Ain't Gonna Rub Itself!

Charlotte planned a hot surprise for Casey—one she wanted to feel, not see. She stripped bare, slipped on a blindfold, and waited. But April showed up first. With the lights off and her eyes covered, Charlotte figured it was her wife walking in, so she grinned and begged for a massage. April froze, then smirked. Fuck it. She touched Charlotte—slow, greedy, going places she shouldn't. Fingers sliding lower, teasing, spreading, rubbing until Charlotte was rocking her hips into it. Right when April had two fingers knuckle-deep, Casey stormed through the door. Shouts. Swearing. Then somebody laughed. Suddenly they were all kissing, clothes hitting the floor, mouths trading spit and moans like the fight never happened. Bodies tangled, hands everywhere, tongues dipping between thighs while the other two watched and stroked, wet sounds filling the room as they turned one stupid mistake into a filthy three-way.