Fan fun

Priscilla adores teasing her fans. She steps closer, blonde hair brushing bare shoulders, her eyes locked on mine. I feel that pull right away. My fingertips skim the edge of her lingerie, and she leans in until our mouths meet. Our kiss deepens. Tongues slide, tasting, circling. She tastes sweet, almost dizzying. She tugs at my top, lips moving lower, breath warm against my skin. My hand slips inside the lace of her bra, finding the soft swell beneath. She shivers, pressing into the touch. We sink to the bed together, limbs tangled. I kiss the dip of her waist. Her fingers trace down my spine, slow, sure. Then she turns us, settling between my thighs. The scent of her hair is everywhere—warm, faint perfume mixed with heat. Her mouth finds me, tongue stroking slow and sure until my hips lift. I pull her closer, thighs cradling her head, fingers threading through her strands. I repay every stroke. She gasps when my tongue meets slick heat, every flick making her breath catch. We move in rhythm, chasing each other’s pleasure, hips rolling, voices low and ragged. She comes first, shuddering, gripping the sheets. I follow moments later, white-hot, the world narrowing to the sound of her breathing against my thigh. We lie still afterward, skin warm and flushed. She rests her head on my stomach, smiling like we share a secret. A private game, played out in silk and skin, ending in quiet satisfaction.