Sandy, the Seducer

Sandy's living room bakes in late-afternoon heat. Sunlight slides across her skin, golden on bare thighs. Kourtney Kane sprawls beside her on the couch, brunette hair a dark spill over the cushion, big tits rising with every slow breath. Sandy watches that rise and fall, eyes half-lidded, tongue caught between her teeth. A knowing smile flickers. She leans in, lips brushing Kourtney's ear, whispering something that makes the brunette's spine arch. Fingers trace the hem of Kourtney's top, then slip inside, cupping heavy flesh. Kourtney answers with a soft gasp, hips rolling toward Sandy's touch. Sandy takes the cue, peels the fabric away, and the heavy globes tumble free. Her tongue follows the slope, circles a stiff nipple, sucks until Kourtney's fingers twist in her blonde hair. A shift of weight, a thigh sliding between thighs, and the room fills with the slick sound of two bodies finding rhythm.