The return of Dorina

Dorina thought she was done with the camera. A year away and the itch never left. She slipped back into lace and black stockings, her blonde hair catching the light. The moment her tongue met wet folds again, the rest of the world dropped away. She takes her time, teasing and tasting, fingers working in time with her mouth. Then the heat rises—she spreads, opens, and takes the other girl’s fingers deep in her ass, breath hitching with every thrust. Nothing polite about it. Just raw, slow, hungry pleasure, over and over until they both shake.