Carter Loves Dakota

I’ve always been the girl they toss around. Cute. Quiet. Easy to fold. But lately I’ve been sitting with a different heat under my skin—the wish to be the one who gives the orders. Tonight I find her smaller, softer, eyes big when I tell her to undress. Steam curls off the bathwater as I pull her in after me. Her nipples are barely a mouthful, and I take them anyway, sucking until the skin swells and she whimpers. My palms slide around, filling with the swell of her ass, thumbs stroking heat between the cheeks while I taste the water on her skin. I sink against the cool rim and spread my legs. “Now you,” I say. Two small fingers slip inside me, and a sharp little tongue finds my asshole next, circling until the filth of it makes my clit twitch. Good girl. She works me until I’m slick, then the narrow toy first, teasing, then the thick one I favor when I need to stretch and melt. Her wrists strain to hold the rhythm. When my first orgasm hits, hot and loud, I let the steam swallow every sound. Her turn. I keep it light at first—one finger, gentle pressure at her rim, slow licks across her tight ring until she rocks back. The tiny toy slides in, then another, stretching that untouched hole wider each time. Her breath shakes; so does mine. I trade the slim plug for the heavy length she’ll never forget and drive it deep, slow strokes giving way to rough. She claws at my wrist, pleading and shaking, until the muscles around the toy flutter hard and her voice breaks with every clench. The innocent body shudders through her own ruin, legs trembling, face buried against my thigh. I stroke her damp hair and smile.