My Sweetie Pie

Alyssa lounges in the leather chair like a spoiled brat, watching her stepmother work. Blonde. Fit. Late thirties. Christina moves like a servant at first, refilling water, offering snacks, kneeling down to press her thumbs into the arches of Alyssa's narrow feet. The young woman stretches and smiles, knees parted, cotton shorts riding high. Her pussy shows through the thin strip of fabric, shaved clean and slick at the edges. Christina's tongue touches her bottom lip. Hunger replaces obedience. Her hand slides higher. She cups the heat between Alyssa's legs, fingers pressing the damp cotton, and murmurs an invitation. The girl answers by peeling off her shorts right there in the chair. Now they move to the bed. Alyssa drops onto her back, legs open. Christina drops between them and licks once, slow, from slick entrance to swollen clit. The taste makes her groan. Alyssa grips blond hair and pulls her tighter. The older woman eats like she has been denied for months. They trade kisses, tasting each other, until Christina flips the girl onto her knees. Two fingers sink deep; her tongue works the tight ring above. Alyssa comes shaking, forehead pressed to the sheets. When Christina swings a thigh over the flushed face beneath her, Alyssa opens her mouth without being told. Hips roll, wet cunt grinding down, and Christina rides until she breaks. She comes in pulses, flooding the girl's tongue and lips, and stays there until the tremors stop.