Mother Daughter Exchange Club #35

She was already wet when she climbed over me. Pushed my shoulders down. Took what she wanted. Her thighs flexed hard against my ribs as she settled above my face, then sank. Hot. Open. She held herself there and let me taste her, slow at first, then deeper, slower—until her breath hitched and she ground down harder. My tongue found every fold, every pulse. She braced one hand on the headboard and rode it, rolling her hips in tight circles. A bead of sweat rolled down her stomach, caught in the hollow above her hip. She didn’t speak. Just moved like she needed this release more than air.