Old Melody

Dolly Bee reclined on the sheets, her heavy breasts shifting with each breath. Vyvan Hill caught the scent of her arousal and felt herself growing wet. She wanted that taste—wanted her mouth on those slick, mature folds. Dolly spread her thighs wider, and Vyvan's tongue found its mark, slow and deliberate. Every lap pulled another gasp from Dolly's lips. Her cunt was rich, heady, dripping down Vyvan's chin as she drank deeper. Dolly's thighs trembled. Vyvan didn't stop.