Disco gals

Candy Strong haunts the nightclubs, eyes sharp for the young ones. She wants their firm flesh against hers, their tight bodies giving what her own craves. She spots them at the bar—fresh-faced, laughing too loud—and her pulse kicks. One girl catches her stare, blonde and bold, and the air thickens. Candy doesn’t waste time on small talk. She leans in, hands sliding over smooth curves, testing softness and muscle. The blonde leans right back, already wet. They find a dark corner where the beat thumps through the floor. Candy’s mouth is on full tits first, sucking hard while the younger hands yank her skirt up. Fingers push deep. Candy moans, hips rolling, lost in the heat of a body too young to know restraint yet eager to learn. She pulls the girl onto the velvet bench, spreads those smooth thighs, and buries her tongue where it counts. Every lick draws a sharper cry. Candy takes her time, savoring the sweet taste, the way the girl trembles when she adds two fingers and curls them just right. The blonde comes fast, legs shaking, then returns the favor with hungry enthusiasm. Candy arches, gripping blonde hair, grinding until release hits her hard and sweet. Sweat, perfume, and the low pulse of music cling to their skin when they finally ease apart, already hunting the next round.