Ladies' lust

She’s been frozen in those teengirl shots long enough. One look at Dora—blonde curls spilling over black lace, dark nipples pressing through the mesh—and the girl’s pulse jumps. Dora steps closer, slips a finger beneath the brunette’s bra strap, slides it down her arm. Slow, deliberate. Her other hand cups the girl’s ass, squeezing the soft flesh until a low whimper slips out. The bra drops. Nipples tighten in the cool air. Dora’s mouth follows, tongue flicking once, twice, before she sucks the peak deep. Fingers trace the lace edge of the girl’s panties, then slip inside, parting wet folds with practiced ease. She curls two fingers, stroking the swollen spot that makes the girl’s knees shake. The panties are tugged aside. Dora sinks lower, spreading slick lips with her thumbs, breath warm. Her tongue drags flat and slow from entrance to clit, tasting, teasing, then sucking the swollen nub with sudden hunger. The girl’s hand flies to Dora’s hair, hips rocking forward. She’s done waiting. Dora rises, spins her around, bends her over the edge of the bed. One sharp slap lands on pale skin; the mark blooms pink. Fingers push back inside—three now—stretching, pumping. The rhythm is hard, relentless. A thumb circles the tight ring of muscle above, pressing just enough to promise more. The girl gasps, pushing back, greedy for whatever comes next. Dora laughs softly against her ear, then bites the lobe. She keeps working those fingers, driving deeper with every thrust, until the girl’s thighs tremble and her voice breaks on a single, breathless word: “Please.”