Addicted2Girls
Kenzie Taylor, Lacy Lennon Pic(s)
The room held its breath as she knelt, her gaze tracing the delicate curve where spine met softness. Her palms slid up the backs of trembling thighs, a slow, deliberate pilgrimage of touch. She leaned in, her warm exhalation ghosting across skin that shivered in anticipation, a silent promise of what was to come. The first touch was not with her tongue, but with her lips, a soft, reverent press agat the very center of that hidden sanctum. Then came the tip of her tongue, a wet, searching point of heat that traced a slow, deliberate circle, tasting the faint salt of skin and the intoxicating essence of arousal. A low, guttural moan escaped the woman above, her body arching back into the intimate caress that was both worship and claiming. The rhythm began, a languid, istent laving that explored every delicate fold and crease with unhurried devotion. Each flick and stroke was a word in a silent, primal language, speaking of desire that needed no other vocabulary. The air thickened with the sounds of wetness and ragged breath, a symphony of pure, unadulterated sensation that consumed them both completely.
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