A Lapdance To Remember

Rachael Cavalli paces her bedroom, restless before the wedding. Emma Hix, her stepdaughter, watches from the doorway, brows drawn. "What's wrong?" Emma asks. Rachael admits the truth: strippers are booked for her bachelorette party and she's terrified of what happens next, especially if one climbs into her lap. Emma’s mouth curves into a gentle smile. "I can show you," she says, already pulling her sweater over her head. Rachael hesitates, but Emma’s bare breasts sway as she steps closer—full, natural, pink-tipped—and suddenly the older woman nods. Emma swings a leg over Rachael’s thighs and settles. She rolls her hips in slow circles, blonde hair brushing Rachael’s cheek. The denim of Emma’s shorts drags against Rachael’s skirt with every pass. Heat sparks low in Rachael’s belly. Emma feels it. She grinds harder, slower, pressing heat to heat. Rachael’s hands rise and cup those soft, heavy tits. For one mortified second she freezes, but Emma leans into the touch and whispers, "It’s okay." Emma’s fingers find the zipper on Rachael’s skirt. She slides off the older woman’s lap just long enough to tug it down, then climbs back on, this time straddling bare thighs. Rachael is soaked. Emma dips two fingers through the wet silk and circles her clit. Rachael gasps. The lapdance is forgotten; they’re kissing now, deep and open-mouthed. Emma drops to her knees between Rachael’s spread legs and licks in long, lazy strokes until Rachael comes hard, fingers knotted in blonde hair. Best rehearsal either of them could ask for.