The Mommy Trap

Chloe’s trying to study when she hears India knock. She’s been wanting to ask but hasn’t found the balls. India’s home late, glued to her phone, and Chloe smells bullshit. When she finally blurts out the accusation, India laughs like it’s absurd—claims she’s been buried at the office. Chloe nods along, but she knows a lie when she hears one. She ropes Jane into the plan. Jane shows up bursting with fake cheer, and by the time she says hello, the trap’s already closed. She leans over, flashing bare cunt, and watches India’s eyes drop straight to it. “Let’s get to know each other,” she purrs, steering India upstairs like a mare on a lead rope. India’s bent over the bed with Jane’s tongue in her when Chloe slips in. They swap without a word; Chloe kneels and buries her face between India’s legs, licking deep until India’s thighs start to shake. India moans through the last wave, looks back ready to kiss the girl who made her come, and freezes. Chloe’s grin is pure trouble. India stares, wide-eyed, then laughs once, low and dirty. “Holy fuck, you little pervs.” She grabs Chloe by the hair, pulls her in again, and growls that they’re nowhere near finished.