A Not So Secret Snatch Admirer

Abby's day was already in the gutter. Locked out. Hot car. No one coming home soon. Then Rachael pulled into her driveway—suns out, body tight in a short linen dress, that unmistakable cougar glow. "You need somewhere to cool off, sweetheart?" She didn't have to ask twice. Inside, the AC kissed her bare legs. Abby followed, trying not to stare at the sway of Rachael's hips, the way the dress clung to each curve. She failed. When their eyes met, Abby's confession slipped out. "I've had a crush on you since I was eighteen." Rachael smiled like a woman who knew her worth. "Then maybe it's time we did something about that." In the bedroom, clothes fell without ceremony. Abby dropped to her knees first. She spread Rachael's cheeks and ran her tongue over the tight, pink ring, slow at first, then greedy. Rachael groaned, fingers gripping the sheets. She pulled Abby up, spun her around, and returned the favor. Her wet tongue teased Abby open while her hand slipped between her thighs, stroking the swollen clit until Abby shuddered. Rachael reached for the harness. Thick, black, already slick. She strapped Abby in, then spread herself on the bed—legs open, pussy glistening. Abby climbed between those toned thighs and sank the strap deep. Rachael took every inch with a low, satisfied moan. They fucked hard. The strap slammed in and out, skin slapping, Rachael gripping Abby's ass to drive her deeper. When the blonde came, her whole body arched, nails digging into skin, a raw cry ripping from her throat. But Abby wasn't done. She flipped Rachael onto her stomach, pressed her down, and fucked her until the sheets were damp and the only sounds were panting and the wet slap of skin on skin. Maybe this arrangement was just getting started.