Sandy Ambrosia
Broken Innocence
She smiles like she still believes the world is kind. Hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, catching the light each time she shifts. Her body stays untouched by pretense—breasts that sit high and full, hips that curve without apology. Between her legs the skin is smooth, already flushed, lips parted just enough to show how wet she’s become. Sandy leans closer to the girl beside her, mouth finding a nipple, tongue flicking once, twice, before she sucks. The other girl gasps, fingers threading through Sandy’s hair, pulling her down harder. Sandy answers with a low hum, sliding two fingers between those slick folds, curling them until the girl’s thighs start to tremble. She takes her time. Every slow lick, every careful thrust of her hand says she wants to feel the moment it breaks. When the girl finally comes, Sandy’s eyes stay open, watching, drinking in the way the body jerks and then softens under her mouth.
She smiles like she still believes the world is kind. Hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, catching the light each time she shifts. Her body stays untouched by pretense—breasts that sit high and full, hips that curve without apology. Between her legs the skin is smooth, already flushed, lips parted just enough to show how wet she’s become. Sandy leans closer to the girl beside her, mouth finding a nipple, tongue flicking once, twice, before she sucks. The other girl gasps, fingers threading through Sandy’s hair, pulling her down harder. Sandy answers with a low hum, sliding two fingers between those slick folds, curling them until the girl’s thighs start to tremble. She takes her time. Every slow lick, every careful thrust of her hand says she wants to feel the moment it breaks. When the girl finally comes, Sandy’s eyes stay open, watching, drinking in the way the body jerks and then softens under her mouth.