This Ass Ain't Gonna Rub Itself!

Charlotte figures Casey's about to clock out, so she strips down, ties on a blindfold, and waits. Naked, goose-bumped, ready for her wife's hands. Only it’s April, the nosy sister-in-law, who walks in first. Charlotte hears footsteps, spreads her legs a little wider, and says, "Right on time, babe. Oil’s on the nightstand. Start wherever you want." April freezes, eyes popping at the sight of that smooth, bare cunt on full display, then grins like the devil just handed her the keys. She strips off her blouse, slicks her palms, and sinks her fingers straight into Charlotte’s shoulders, working lower fast, greedy. She rubs oil across Charlotte’s tits, tweaks each nipple, then slides two slick fingers between her folds, thumb flicking the clit like she owns it. Charlotte moans, pushes back, totally clueless. Door clicks again. Casey steps in, briefcase still in hand, and stares. "What the actual fuck?" April yanks her fingers out; Charlotte rips off the blindfold. Half a second of everyone yelling, then Casey’s jaw tightens and a dirty little smirk fights through. "Screw it. Scoot over." She drops her slacks, climbs onto the bed, and shoves April’s face between Charlotte’s thighs while she straddles Charlotte’s mouth. Tongues, fingers, slippery skin slapping; the fight turns into a sweaty, gasping free-for-all—every hole licked, every grudge fucked out in thirty loud minutes flat.