CutiesGalore presents Porsha

Porsha’s changed. The books and glasses are gone. She keeps the school skirt, the little white shirt, the tie hanging loose. Nothing else. She drops the backpack, leans against the bedpost, and lets her fingers wander. First the shirt, opened one button at a time, until her small tits catch the light. Then the skirt pushed up, panties slid aside. She watches the camera as she touches herself—slow, wet strokes, then faster, thighs shaking. Breath catches, hips lift. A sharp moan breaks when she comes, fingers still buried deep, body twitching. She catches her breath, grins, and slips her hand out, glistening.