Easy to turn on

Michelle and Ary didn't need much. A little lace, the hum of the warehouse—empty, echo-y—and they were on each other. Ary wore a thin white bodysuit sheer enough to show the tight rose of her nipples, heels still on. Michelle’s black slip barely reached the tops of her thighs, blond hair loose. They sank onto the concrete like they’d been holding back all week. Ary tugged the crotch of Michelle’s thong aside and sank two fingers straight in, wrist turning slow and firm. Michelle’s breath hitched; she widened her knees and opened her mouth for Ary’s tongue. They kissed sloppily while Ary’s hand worked, every wet push drawing fresh cream over her knuckles. Then Michelle slid down, nipped Ary’s thigh once, and pressed her face between the girl’s spread legs. The pale bodysuit peeled aside like paper. Michelle licked flat and slow, nose brushing the small strip of Ary’s landing strip, then flicked quick circles over her clit until the redhead’s heels drummed the floor. Glass followed: a thick crystal cock, warmed by hands and spit. Michelle eased it between Ary’s folds until the flared base locked tight inside. Her own thighs shook. She straddled Ary’s face, facing the toy, and lowered her cunt onto it in steady rolls of her hips, impaling herself in time with each thrust she gave her partner. Wet sounds echoed off metal and brick—skin smacking, glass gliding, two desperate moans. Ary’s mouth never left Michelle’s ass; she gripped both cheeks, tongue working tight circles around the tight knot, while her fingers stayed buried, rubbing Michelle’s G-spot from the front. Michelle came first, head tipping back, cunt clenching in long, milking waves around the toy. She stayed seated until Ary pushed up with another orgasm, juice dripping down the glass in strings. They kept rocking—slower now, riding the last tremors together—heels abandoned, the long quiet warehouse filled only with heavy breathing.