Backstage of Double dynamite

Sandy and Sandee Westgate stand close enough that their perfume mixes in the air. Each woman could stop traffic on her own, yet side by side the effect turns lethal. Sandy’s long blonde hair tumbles down her back while Sandee’s dark strands fall straight and heavy, brushing the swell of her ass. Their tits press together—blonde and brunette, pale and tanned, nipples already tightening. Sandee grips Sandy’s hips, pulls her forward until their lips meet and open. Tongues slide, slow and wet. Sandy reaches behind, spreads her fingers over the curve of Sandee’s ass and squeezes until the flesh gives. Sandee answers by sliding one thigh between Sandy’s, rubbing higher until she feels the soft, warm press of another cunt. They sink together onto the couch, legs open, bodies aligned. Sandy’s fingers part Sandee’s slick folds, trace her clit in tight circles. Sandee moans against Sandy’s mouth and slips two fingers deep into her, pumping in the same rhythm. Their hips roll, tits crushed against each other, nipples dragging with every movement. The blonde arches, the brunette bites her neck, and the slick sounds of fingers working wet flesh fill the room. Double the heat, double the hunger, and neither shows any sign of stopping.