Unwrapping the Birthday Girl

America’s hand slipped past Kate's clean shaven crotch, her fingers finding the soft folds of Kate’s pussy. With a deftness that spoke to her confidence, she traced the outer lips, her touch both exploratory and teasing.

Kate’s breath quickened, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to maintain composure. “This isn’t funny, America!” she hissed, though her trembling voice betrayed her.

“Who said I was joking?” America replied, her voice low and husky.

Her fingers dipped deeper, parting the slick folds as she found Kate’s clit. She circled it slowly, her movements deliberate and unhurried, drawing soft gasps from Kate. The archer’s resolve wavered with each passing moment, her body betraying her as warmth pooled in her core.

“You’re so responsive,” America murmured, her lips brushing against Kate’s ear. “I think you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”

Kate’s mind raced, torn between indignation and the undeniable pleasure coursing through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to resist, but America’s skillful touch made it nearly impossible. Her fingers moved with precision, alternating between gentle strokes and firmer pressure, leaving Kate breathless.

“Happy birthday, Kate,” America whispered, her tone equal parts teasing and seductive.

Kate’s breath came in shallow gasps as America continued fingering her harder and harder. Her hand tugged at the edges of Kate’s tight suit, pulling it to the side, revealing more of Kate’s smooth skin beneath. The sensation of America’s fingers inside her sent waves of heat coursing through Kate’s body, her pulse quickening in response to each teasing touch. Her body felt like it was on fire, yet the mix of humiliation and pleasure made her feel out of control.

“Stop, America,” Kate gasped, her hands clutching at America’s wrists, trying to push her away. “This isn’t funny anymore. Please.”

But America merely grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’s your birthday, Kate. I’m just giving you a little present.” She pulled at Kate’s suit again, the fabric stretching as it gave way, exposing more of her pale, toned flesh.

Kate’s breath hitched when she felt America’s fingers digging deeper into her pussy, slipping inside with smooth, deliberate pressure. Her back arched, a gasp escaping her lips as she was overwhelmed by the sensation. “America… please, no more,” Kate begged, but her voice faltered as her body betrayed her.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, Bishop,” America whispered, her tone almost mocking. Her fingers continued to move inside Kate, coaxing more pleasure from her body. Kate felt her nipples tighten, her chest flushed with embarrassment as she tried to push the feeling away.

But before Kate could say anything else, America’s hands went to work again, ripping her suit completely off, leaving her in nothing but her boots. Kate gasped in shock and humiliation, her body fully exposed to the air, and to America’s gaze. She wanted to cover herself, but America’s touch was relentless.

Kate’s head swam, a knot of arousal and humiliation tightening in her belly. The room seemed to spin as America’s fingers moved faster, deeper, and then Kate felt it—her body couldn’t fight it anymore. She came with a shudder, her body trembling as she released, the orgasm crashing over her with an intensity she couldn’t control.

America, seemingly pleased with herself, pulled her fingers out slowly, her grin widening as she looked down at Kate. “Happy birthday, Kate,” she said casually, tossing the words over her shoulder as she left the room, leaving Kate trembling and exposed.