Hot Oily Fuck

Karma struts like she owns the room. Chanel’s mouth curves—time to cut the show short. She moves in, pours oil in a slow stream over skin that gleams on contact. Every slap lands wet; Karma’s cheeks and tits bounce under the sting. New tops get peeled, torn, ignored. Jean seams split in one tug. Chanel pushes her down, strokes the slick head of her strap over Karma’s folds, then drives in—hard, steady, filling her until Karma’s legs shake and she comes with a broken sound. Still catching her breath, Karma is shoved between Chanel’s spread thighs. Her tongue finds every fold, laps hungrily, while Chanel rides the pressure, hips rolling, until her own release crashes through her in tight, pulsing waves.