Sex slave: Jennifer Morante

Psychology sometimes explains affection in ways no one asked for. Kathia wanted to show Jennifer how glad she was to have a friend. It spilled over. She took hold of Jennifer in the hot flood of it. Lips pressed. Breath came quicker. Then Kathia’s mouth moved lower. Fingers hooked into fabric. She tugged. Skin met skin and slipped. Wet heat. Tongues flattened and flicked. Saliva gleamed in the light. Jennifer’s back arched when Kathia’s fingers opened her wider, dragged the moisture upward, pressed, circled, slid in. Each push filled the room with a small sound. Their hips matched until the tension crested. Jennifer shook, breathless, still smiling. For both of them it felt right, if a little too much.