Lesbian Robbery Trickery

Kendra's had enough. Her husband's a walking cliché, all golf clubs and condescension, and she's done pretending. She and Tina, her steady side piece, have a plan: clean out his accounts, stage the break-in, and vanish before he finishes the back nine. Right now the house is quiet, blinds drawn, the smell of fresh rope in the air. Tina works fast, wrapping the cords tight around Kendra’s wrists, then her ankles, then across her mouth, pulling the knot firm behind her head. The gag bites. Kendra’s lips stretch around it, every breath loud through her nose. Tina steps back, breathing heavier, staring at the way the ropes press into soft skin. “Jesus, look at you,” she mutters, voice low. “Tying you up like this—it’s got me soaked.” Kendra’s eyes flash, half challenge, half dare. They don’t have long. They both know it. But the risk makes the air thicker, the need sharper. Tina shoves Kendra back onto the couch, pulls her skirt up, and drops between her legs. The gag turns every moan into a muffled growl as Tina works her over—fingers, tongue, whatever gets the job done. Kendra bucks against the ropes, helpless, grateful, dripping. Outside, the neighbor’s sprinklers tick on. Inside, the clock’s still ticking down. They fuck like the clock’s already out of time.