Hookup Mixup

Kasey Kei's phone's going off. Kenna James walks in mid-grind while Kasey's eating Aria Valencia alive. Kenna just freezes. The air snaps tight. Turns out Kasey's been juggling both women on a color-coded fuck calendar—usually airtight—except she double-booked herself stupid and here they all are, about to collide. Aria's thong's already halfway down her thighs; Kasey yanks it further, lets the elastic snap sharp against the back of her ass. Kenna snatches the rear strap of Aria's thong next and fires it, leaving a bright stripe of pink flesh. Aria whips around, fist curling like she wants payback. Before teeth flash, Kasey wedges between them. 'We can fight, or you two can eat each other silly while I watch. Your call.' They're still pissed, pulse points thudding, but need beats spite. Bras hit carpet. Tongues drag across collarbones and hard nipples. Kasey drops, spreads Kenna, then Aria, fingering both until their groans tangle, and the three of them collapse into one writhing knot of spit-slick skin and sloppy wet sound. Every thrust of hips forgets whose calendar screwed up; tonight it's just bodies, biting, and payback swapped for bruises they ask for.