Mirror magic

Aliza stares between her open thighs. Pink folds glisten under the bedside lamp, and her fingers move in slow circles over the slick heat. She loses track of time, soft strokes turning her cunt wetter with each pass. A key turns. Gwen steps inside. The sudden click of the latch pulls Aliza’s eyes up. She doesn’t stop. Two fingers dip between her lips and spread them, showing everything. Gwen closes the door behind her. The lock snaps shut. Without a word, she drops to her knees at the foot of the bed. Close enough for her breath to tickle the thin strip of hair just above Aliza’s mound. She leans in until the scent hits her—sharp, sweet, unmistakable—and her own cunt tightens in answer.