One lazy afternoon, Justin agreed, closing his eyes as instructed. The first round was innocent enough—Lisa pressed a strawberry to his lips, and he guessed it instantly. Next, she dabbed whipped cream onto his fingers, which he licked clean with a smirk. Two for two. But the third round took a daring turn. Lisa dipped his fingers into something warm, slick, and unmistakably intimate—her own dripping wet pussy. She coated them with her arousal and quietly guided his hand back to his lips. Justin paused, opened his eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of Lisa teasing herself, fingers between her thighs. He said nothing, pretending not to notice, and slowly tasted the sweetness on his fingers—his heart pounding, his mind clouded with lust. He didn’t stop her. He didn’t say a word. But they both knew exactly what was happening—and how close they were to crossing a line neither of them could come back from.
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