Lethal love - part 2.

Two girls in leather straddle a black couch, hands already busy. The blonde works two fingers into the brunette’s mouth, then shoves them between her own thighs, wetting them fast. She leans in, sucks the brunette’s tongue, and the kiss deepens, sloppy and wet. Fingers slide lower. The brunette’s ass lifts, cheeks spread; the blonde’s hand disappears knuckle-deep, wrist twisting. The brunette answers by curling three fingers inside the blonde, stretching her open in short, ruthless thrusts. Their tits press together, nipples catching, and each girl grinds down harder, hungry for the friction. The brunette’s pussy clenches around the intrusion, then loosens again as another finger pushes past the ring. The blonde answers with the same cruel rhythm, burying four fingers, palm slapping skin. Sweat beads on their stomachs. They rock against each other, mouths locked, breath coming in short, harsh bursts. When the blonde curls her hand inside the brunette’s ass, the brunette gasps and comes, thighs shaking. The blonde keeps pumping, milking every pulse. The brunette retaliates by driving her own hand to the wrist, knuckles bumping the blonde’s clit with every thrust until she, too, breaks apart. Leather creaks. The couch creaks. Their bodies stay locked, glistening, neither girl willing to pull free first.