Bachelorette Stripper Switcheroo

Liv sits on the hotel bed, wrists tied in loose ribbon, while Zariah and Gray yank the blindfold down over her eyes. The silk presses hot against her skin. When the stripper arrives, she's a pale imitation of the fantasy Zariah promised; they send her packing without a second glance. Now the real fun starts. Zariah peels off her dress, climbs into Liv's lap, hips grinding hard enough that Liv feels every damp inch through the thin lace. Gray pushes in from behind, warm breath skating the back of Liv's neck. Their hands roam, greedy, pulling the wedding-white lingerie aside, fingers sliding over slick heat. Liv moans for the dancer she thinks is performing, legs parting wider. Zariah drops to her knees between Liv's thighs, tongue flicking sharp and precise until Liv's hips buck. Gray guides Liv’s hand to her own wet center, makes her feel the evidence. They trade places, each taking what they need, faster now, skin slapping, spit trailing from Liv’s parted lips. Zariah’s cock slides in slow and deep; Gray feeds her the other end, a steady, filthy rhythm. The three of them rock together, blindfold damp with sweat. Liv stiffens when her tongue brushes the familiar shape of Zariah’s ring, when Gray’s telltale whimper slips free. She rips the blindfold off, eyes wide, but the sight below makes her clench hard. She’s soaked, throbbing, furious for a split second—then hungrier. She fists Gray’s hair and drags her closer, letting Zariah pound harder, spit running down her chin as she gasps, “Don’t fucking stop.” The party turns into a slick, relentless blur, every thrust a promise that her last night free will be the dirtiest memory she keeps.