Flooded With Affection

Lily Starfire tugged the fitted sheet tight across her stepaunt's bed when her fingertips hit damp cotton. A darker patch bloomed beneath her hand. She frowned, unsure. The bedroom door clicked. Christy stepped in, spotted the evidence, and smiled slow, like she knew a secret she was tired of keeping. "Sweetheart, that's from me," Christy said, voice low. "I get wetter than most. So does your stepmom." She raised her voice. "Angelina, come here." Angelina Moon walked in, black silk robe loose at the waist. One look at the stain and her cheeks colored, but her eyes sparked. Christy took the lead, sliding her shorts off without ceremony. She stretched across the mattress, spread her thighs, and started rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her bare pussy. The first few sounds were wet and quiet. Then louder. Angelina watched a moment, then untied the robe and dropped it. Two fingers sank inside her as she stepped close to the bed. Lily froze by the headboard, sheet forgotten. The room filled with breath and skin and the slick sound of both women fucking themselves harder. Christy's hips bucked first; she came with a sharp cry, clear liquid pulsing out in short jets that splattered the sheet and her own belly. Angelina followed seconds later, thighs trembling, a heavier stream soaking the mattress beneath her. Heat pulsed between Lily's legs. Her voice came out rough. "Do it on me." The words cracked the air. Christy and Angelina exchanged a glance, then moved. They pulled Lily onto the bed, peeled her clothes away. Soon Lily lay on her back, legs parted, while two pairs of hands guided warm, gushing streams over her stomach, her tits, her face. Each pulse made her gasp, made her grind up into nothing but heat and wetness. Fingers followed, mouths followed, and the bed turned slick beneath three bodies twisting, slipping, coming again. The air smelled like sex and salt and satisfaction, thick enough to taste.