Caught Behind the Bar

Casey Calvert hustles drinks across a crowded bar, sunlight glinting through wide windows. She ducks behind the counter for a moment, then slides straight between Bree Daniels's thighs. Her tongue flicks wet heat across Bree's swollen clit while Bree keeps polishing the wood, eyes lifting every so often to the parade of afternoon customers. The rhythmic push of Casey's mouth finally knocks Bree off balance, hips jerking, thighs tightening around Casey's head. Quiet gasps betray her; she comes in soft, unmistakable waves while the room finally goes still. When Casey resurfaces to serve another round, Bree waits under the pass. As soon as Casey turns back, Bree pulls her down, mouth already searching. Casey braces on the bar rail as Bree's lips seal around her, tongue circling, sucking. The rush hits fast. Casey's thighs quiver and she drenches Bree's chin, fingers locked tight in the rail. The entire bar hoots and whistles. Voices thicken—kiss, grab, show us. The girls obey. Mouths meet hard. Hands dip low, clutching bare ass in loud, eager handfuls. They climb onto the slick bar, sunlight tracing every curve. Bras, shirts, skirts peel away in slow motion until both women stand naked above the cheering stools. They sink down, legs braided, cunts sliding together. Slow, deliberate grind—clit against clit, slick sounds mingling with the crowd's exhale. Bree settles over Casey's face. She rides—hips rolling, hair dark against flushed skin—until the pressure snaps and her second release spills across Casey's tongue. Then she stretches out, lips parting in invitation. Casey straddles Bree's mouth, knees wide, spine arching. She rocks until one long pulse rips through her, thighs shaking as she spends again for every voyeur in the room.