Are You TRYING To Get Caught?!

Lacy Lennon's fuming at her boyfriend in her home massage setup, laying into him for treating her like yesterday's news, ignoring every damn word she says. He storms out, leaving her seething. Then a sly grin creeps across her face—she's got a wicked plan to make him sweat. Later, she ushers in her client, Seth Gamble, with a smirk, upgrading his boring rubdown to a slippery Nuru special. That's step one of her revenge game. They hit the shower, and she cracks the bathroom door wide open, baiting the hook. Things heat up fast under the spray. Lacy drops to her knees, wrapping her lips around Seth's throbbing cock, sucking him deep like it's her favorite treat. She's working him good, tongue swirling, when bam—she yells for her boyfriend. He barrels in right after, rounding the corner to the shower front. But get this: just as he's inches from catching Lacy with Seth's dick buried in her mouth, the guy yanks off his glasses, griping about the steam fogging them up. He's planted right there, staring blind at the action, but zero reaction. Lacy's still kneeling, gripping Seth's shaft tight, and she mutters loud enough for effect that her man's utterly clueless without his specs. Seth's locked up, jaw on the floor. Finally, the boyfriend shrugs and bails. Lacy lets out a frustrated huff. Seth's all what-the-hell, but she brushes it off—'Don't sweat it, stud'—and dives back in, slurping his cock like nothing happened. She wraps the shower, all slick and teasing, then drags him to the living room. There, she slathers up and body-slides over him, grinding her curves against his skin, turning the heat up notch by notch till it's pure fire. Lacy leans in for another round on his dick, sucking hard and sloppy before climbing higher. 'Your turn to taste me,' she purrs, planting her wet pussy right on his face in a steamy 69. She moans into his cock, starting soft but cranking the volume, belting out gasps that echo. It builds to a screaming peak: 'OH SETH!' Her boyfriend's head pops into the doorway on cue. Lacy yanks Seth's dick free, sitting up straight but keeping her ass planted on his tongue. Damn, the couch plays cockblock— he only clocks her upper half, oblivious to the face-fucking below. He tilts his head: 'You call me?' Lacy plays cool: 'Nah, just Seth's name.' Frustration bubbles up; this blind fool can't spot the show. 'Hey, come closer so I don't have to yell,' she tries, but he waves it off—'Cool, just checking. Carry on with the massage'—and dips out. Seth's mind's blown, heart pounding. If he didn't know better, he'd swear Lacy's gunning to get busted in the act.