Caught At The Kissing Booth

Ivy Wolfe’s been smooching girls for charity since the morning. A pretty line snakes in front of the booth, every single one confirming they’re over eighteen before they lean in for a peck. Ivy spots Danni Rivers waiting her turn, brunette hair, shiny piercings, a smirk that promises trouble. Their eyes meet, spark, and Ivy loses her rhythm. When Danni steps up the kiss goes nuclear. Tongues tangle, hands grip, and the line starts to grumble. Someone shouts, “Quit holding up the line!” Ivy yanks herself back, giggles, fixes her hair, and sucks in a breath that barely cools her down. Danni saunters off with a low chuckle. A moment later Danni’s behind the booth, dropping to her knees. She palms Ivy’s ass, rubs the seam of her shorts, kisses the backs of her thighs. Ivy squeaks, tries to stay professional for the next customer, but she’s already dripping. The next girl in line widens her eyes. Danni’s fingers are sliding inside Ivy’s shorts now, stroking wet heat. Ivy moans, voice thick. The customer stammers, asks if the booth’s still open or if Ivy’s too… occupied. “It’s still happening,” Ivy gasps, pulling the girl in for a kiss while Danni tugs her shorts down and buries her tongue between those blonde cheeks. Every customer after that gets the same show—Danni on her knees, tongue deep, while Ivy keeps kissing and shaking through it, pants literally around her ankles.