My Babysitter

Ariella caught sight of Belle Knox across the massage room and the recognition hit like warm water down the spine. Eight years later and the babysitter’s memory snapped back into place. Belle had been just a child back then. Now the girl lay bare and slick on the heated table, small breasts rising with each breath. Ariella’s hands worked the oil across taut thighs and the tension underneath could no longer be ignored. She leaned in and pressed her tongue to Belle’s smooth slit, gliding over soft folds until the young woman’s hips lifted, a small gasp escaping her. “You’ve grown up so beautifully,” Ariella murmured against her wet skin. She took long, deliberate licks, then slid two fingers inside and curled them against Belle’s slick walls. Belle’s breathing turned ragged. Ariella climbed over her, kneeled above that open mouth, and lowered her own swollen cunt onto Belle’s tongue. The older woman rocked her hips, grinding against hungry lips, leaving Belle soaked and tasting every thick drop of her desire. When Ariella came she did it with quiet force, coating Belle’s pretty face, their eighteen-year gap erased beneath the heat and the salt.