One Last Errand

Mackenzie Mace rides shotgun while Brittany Andrews drives them on errand after errand. When Brittany turns onto a quiet side street and stops in front of an unfamiliar house, Mackenzie lifts an eyebrow. Brittany smirks, says it’s one more “stop” she wants to make, then gets out like the matter’s already settled. Inside, Mackenzie discovers the house belongs to divorce lawyer Ella Reese. Brittany thanks Ella for helping keep Mackenzie in her life, but the gratitude doesn’t stop with words. Eyes on Mackenzie, Brittany’s voice lowers, husky: Mackenzie is the gift. Surprise freezes Mackenzie for half a heartbeat—then heat floods through her as her brain rewires the situation. Curiosity spikes hotter than caution. She licks her lips and says yes. The moment the door shuts, Ella takes charge. Her hands start rough and get rougher—palming Mackenzie’s tits, yanking her shirt up so eager fingers can pinch pink nipples until they tighten. Mackenzie’s breath comes jagged; she arches into every grab, every pinch. Clothes hit the floor in impatient piles—bras yanked aside, jeans peeled open, fingers sliding between wet folds with filthy purpose. Ella pulls back just long enough to curl one finger at Brittany: “Don’t be shy.” Brittany’s mouth finds Mackenzie’s throat while Ella drops to her knees, spreads Mackenzie’s thighs, and drags her tongue through slick pussy lips. Mackenzie’s moan pitches higher when Brittany’s teeth catch her earlobe and Ella adds two knuckles, pumping deep. Later, Mackenzie lies on her back, legs spread wide, while Brittany grinds on her mouth and Ella rides her thigh, wet and greedy. Hands slide everywhere—fingers twisting over soaked clits, lips sucking hard on nipples, teeth leaving quick red marks. Mackenzie bucks, choking on gasps, tongue swiping up every taste Brittany gives her. The three bodies twist tighter, skin slick with sweat. Brittany fists Ella’s hair to drag them into a fierce kiss; Mackenzie’s fingers drive into Brittany’s cunt from behind, stroking hard until both women tremble. Climax hits in ragged waves—everyone pulsing, everyone moaning, throats raw with unfiltered need.