Yes

Cam's tongue worked her with agonizing precision—long, deliberate strokes from her entrance to her clit, then a flick, then a suck that made her knees lock and her moan burst free, loud and raw.

"Ahhn—f-fuck—Cam—!"

The words tumbled from her lips before she even realized they were hers. The **** still buzzed through her bloodstream, muting caution, sharpening sensation. She wasn’t stumbling, but her limbs felt syrupy—too loose, too warm—and every pass of his tongue sent another dizzy rush behind her eyes. She couldn’t think straight. She didn’t want to.

Her thighs trembled. One hand clawed at the edge of the bench, the other pressed to her own mouth in a useless attempt to quiet herself. Her skirt was hiked above her hips, panties pushed aside and clinging wet between her thighs. Cam’s grip tightened on her ass, spreading her wider as he devoured her from behind, tongue buried so deep it made her legs threaten to buckle again and again.

Behind her, Tasha watched from her sprawled perch on the bench. Half-dressed, tank tossed aside, her breasts still bare, she propped herself up on one elbow, lips parted, eyes lit with wicked delight.

“God, you’re loud when you’re close,” she drawled, voice thick with amusement. “You’re gonna wake the whole damn fairground.”

Emily meant to say something. To snap back, to laugh, to do anything but moan.

But she moaned—long and unfiltered—as Cam latched onto her clit again and suckled, pulling the sound straight out of her lungs.

She swayed forward with the **** of it. Her head fell low, chest rising in ragged, shallow breaths. The rides turned in the distance. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Everything was spinning, glowing. Or maybe that was just the drinks from earlier, burning faintly in her gut.

“C-Cam—fuck—I'm—I'm gonna—!”

Her orgasm tore through her, fierce and fast. Her body went taut, then limp. A flood of heat crashed up her spine, her core tightening so hard it ached. Her mouth opened for a scream—and that’s when Tasha caught her.

She surged forward from the bench, grabbed Emily by the nape, and kissed her.

“Mmnn—!”

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was a wet, urgent tangle of lips and tongue—hot and aggressive, swallowing Emily’s cry with her own breath. Tasha kissed her like she was claiming the moment, moan muffled into Emily’s mouth, their bodies pressed close. Emily could barely breathe, couldn’t think—her orgasm still wracking her, Cam’s tongue still flicking lazily over her trembling folds like he was savoring the aftershocks.

By the time he finally pulled away, Emily was collapsing forward, knees giving out, sweat-slick and dazed. Her head landed in Tasha’s lap, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen, her tank sticking damp to her skin.

“Fuck,” she breathed. “I think I need to lie down…”

“You’re already down, babe,” Tasha purred, stroking her hair. “And god, you looked good doing it.”

Jake stood nearby, stroking his cock now—slow, heavy, grinning like he’d just watched his favorite movie. Cam’s chest rose and fell hard, his jeans still unzipped, cock flushed and thick with tension.

Emily barely registered them. Her heart was still racing. Her thighs slick and twitching. The booze buzzed again, rising with the pulse in her clit and the warmth still blooming through her belly.

Tasha leaned over, kissing her cheek, then brushing her fingers lightly across Emily’s nipple through her tank.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “since everyone’s already hot, horny, and halfway naked…”

She paused, letting her hand drift lower, fingers brushing over Emily’s inner thigh.

“...maybe we should all have a little fun together.”

Emily blinked up at her, breath catching again.

Tasha’s eyes glinted. “You game, milk mama? Or you need another drink first?”

The decision trembled on her lips. The night wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.