Hop On My Strapon

Mirta grips Lisa's hips and pulls her down, the soft pink toy sliding in slick. Their bodies move together—Lisa's red hair falls across her shoulders, catching in the light, while Mirta's pale skin shows every flush beneath her touch. Lisa shifts without warning and turns around, facing away now, settling back onto the harness. She takes the whole length and stays there, hips rolling slow. Both women pressed together, legs tangled, breath caught on each thrust. They move in rhythm, taking every inch they want.