Lyra Gets too cocky

Bayley’s mind raced as she stood there in the black Victoria’s Secret bra, the cool night air raising goosebumps across her exposed skin. The backlot stretched out around them—fences, crates, tools, cars—too many options and not enough time. She needed something solid, something that could interrupt Lyra’s chaotic rhythm before the other woman stripped her the rest of the way.

She never got the chance to decide.

Lyra closed the distance in two quick strides, that fractured smile still carved across her face. She grabbed Bayley by the upper arms and yanked her in close, spinning her so Bayley’s back pressed against a cold shipping container. Before Bayley could shove her away, Lyra’s hands were already on her.

Fingers slid under the black cups of the Victoria’s Secret bra, lifting and squeezing without hesitation. Lyra’s palms filled with soft, heavy warmth. Bayley’s breasts were full and perky, high-set and round, the kind that stayed proudly lifted even without the bra’s support—more than a handful, firm yet soft, the dark fabric of the bra stretching taut across them. Lyra’s thumbs brushed over the peaks, openly playing, kneading and lifting them as if testing their weight.

“Oh… wow,” Lyra breathed, eyes wide with genuine, manic appreciation. “These are nice. Big, perky… perfect. No wonder you hide them under all that Role Model sparkle. They’re almost wasted on someone so serious.” She gave another slow, deliberate squeeze, openly admiring the way they filled her hands. “I might just have to keep playing with them a little longer…”

Bayley gritted her teeth, face burning with a mix of anger and humiliation—but she waited. She forced herself to go still, letting Lyra get lost in the moment, hands still groping and exploring.

The second Lyra’s grip loosened just a fraction, Bayley struck.

She drove her knee up hard between Lyra’s legs in a vicious low blow. The air left Lyra’s lungs in a sharp, broken cry. Her hands flew away from Bayley’s chest as she doubled over.

Bayley didn’t waste the opening. She grabbed the neckline of Lyra’s top with both hands and wrenched upward, determined to rip it free and even the score before the other woman could recover.