Clit Inspection

Tiffany opens the door and lets Stella inside. Stella feels that dull ache deep between her legs and wastes no time stripping bare. She climbs onto the table, face down, offering the round swell of her ass and the curve of her heavy breasts pressed against the linen. Tiffany’s eyes linger over those naked lines before she squeezes oil across Stella’s skin, her palms gliding over muscle, sliding lower each pass. Every stroke brings her nearer the seam that actually hurts, yet Tiffany keeps dodging it. When Stella flips onto her back, the blonde lets her slick fingers drift straight to the bare slit, and Stella’s slight nod is enough. She sits up, thighs parted, and tells Tiffany she came for relief, not pleasure. Tiffany answers with a slow, practiced touch and the calm promise of something better. She guides Stella back down, works her fingertips in tight circles over the swelling clit until Stella’s hips chase every stroke, her breath breaking into soft cries that spill into full-throated moans. The orgasm slams through her, thighs shaking, and before the tremors fade, Tiffany climbs over, pressing their slippery cunts together. The slow grind turns urgent, wet skin slapping as they rock harder, sweat and oil mixing, until Stella’s earlier pain is only a memory. She moves lower, spreads Tiffany open, and takes her first taste—slow tongue, lips sealed around the tender bud—drawing out every slick drop while the blonde arches above her, lost in their shared rhythm.