H-Hey, Th-That Tickles...!

Saturday sun's already cooking the curtains and Eliza’s still dead weight under the blankets. Lexi marches in. “Rise and shine, sweetheart.” Nothing. One flat-line grunt, blankets yanked higher. Lexi grins like a wolf, kicks off her slippers and dives in for a tickle war. Fingers dart under ribs, zap across hipbones. Eliza yelps, twists, shirt rides straight up. Stomach flashes, cute little navel peeking. Legs kick, toes curling, soft laughter turning shrill. Then—boom—Lexi feels the sudden wet heat through those cotton panties. Hot, heavy, right there between Eliza’s shaking thighs. A dark splash spreads, elastic clinging, and she’s squirting hands-free, hips jerking with every tickle. Embarrassment hits like a spotlight. Eliza freezes, cheeks scarlet. Lexi leans over, voice softer but still cocky. “Relax, baby. You just soaked the sheets—means your body’s working the way it’s built. Nothing wrong with a little shower. I’ll show you how to control it whenever you want.” Eliza swallows, then nods like she’s been dared. Lexi slides under the covers, one palm cupping damp heat, fingers tracing sticky cloth. She presses firm, teasing; Eliza’s breath catches—loud. Lexi licks her teeth. “Lesson one: same technique, way bigger payoff.” Her hand sinks deeper. Sheets tent. Eliza’s back arches, thighs clamp Lexi’s wrist, and the real wetness begins—messy, loud, lessons written straight across soaked cotton and tangled legs until the mattress literally squeaks under both of them.