Addicted2Girls
Britney Amber, AJ Applegate Pic(s)
The room held a sacred hush, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of skin gliding agat skin. Her fingers, tracing a slow and deliberate path along the ide of my thigh, felt less like a touch and more like a whispered question, each movement designed to unravel a tightly held secret. I arched into her palm as it cupped my heat, a low moan escaping my lips as she began a gentle, circular pressure that sent waves of liquid fire through my core. Her mouth found the sensitive curve of my neck, her breath a hot, damp promise agat my pulse point, and I felt my own hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer. The world narrowed to the scent of her, a mix of clean sweat and jasmine, and the exquisite friction building between my legs. She shifted, her knee applying a firm, steady counterpoint to the maddeningly slow circles her thumb was now tracing, a dual sensation that pushed me toward a precipice of pure feeling. My entire body tensed, a bowstring pulled taut, every nerve ending screaming with an anticipation so acute it was almost painful. A final, knowing adjustment of her touch, a perfect alignment of pressure and motion, and I shattered, a silent cry caught in my throat as pleasure erupted through me in blinding, concentric waves. She held me through the tremors, her body a warm, solid anchor as I floated back to myself, utterly spent and profoundly understood.
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