Dessert On A Winter Day

Bailey Ryder lounges by the window, snow glazing the pane. Ice cream is her weakness—it always makes her wet. She dollops vanilla onto her thighs and her young breasts, then shucks the coral panties so nothing hides. Melt runs between her smooth lips and she spreads it with slow strokes, savoring the taste on her fingers before slipping them back inside. She works herself open, two fingers deep, the wet click and low moan filling the room. When the need sharpens she turns onto her knees, rolling back again so she can grind her palm against the drenched seam of her pussy while she squeezes her own tits. Her cries grow louder, raw. She holds her breath at the peak, body locked, every muscle strung tight, until release breaks and she melts boneless across the sheets, spooning the last sweet cream into her mouth.