Couple of Convicts Consume Cunts

Mariah leans against the bars and watches the curve of Amilian Kush's backside. The cotton jumpsuit clings tight, every step making the fabric whisper over smooth skin. When Amilian bends to tie her shoe, Mariah's breath slips out slow. "Damn, girl, they sent me the good view." Amilian looks over her shoulder, lips curled, heat already sparking in her eyes. She steps close, body brushing against Mariah's, and lets her hands slide around until palms cup that perfect ass. Mariah tastes her first, lips grazing Amilian's neck, then lower, each inch deliberate. Amilian pulls her onto the cot, peeling fabric away until nothing covers her. Mariah spreads her cheeks and feasts, tongue tracing slow circles that melt into long, wet strokes. Amilian groans into the pillow, hips rocking back, grinding against Mariah's mouth. The bunk creaks. Sweat beads on skin. Sounds grow louder—soft panting, wet sucking, the slap of flesh meeting mouth. Time blurs until they forget bars and chow lines, lost in the warm, slick pleasure between them.