Strap-on sweeties

Alisa and Sasha looked almost innocent, huddled on the couch, knees brushing. Brit stepped in expecting snacks and gossip. She didn't expect Sasha to grip Alisa by the nape and pull her into a slow, open-mouthed kiss. Fingers popped buttons, slipped under lace. Tongues slid together with wet little clicks, dresses hiked, pale thighs parting. Brit watched, wet heat pooling between her legs, until Sasha crooked one finger—come here. The strap-on came out next: sleek black silicone, eight sculpted inches attached to a smooth leather harness riding low on Sasha's hips. Brit's first instinct was awe, then an itch to feel it, test its weight. Alisa tugged her closer and wrapped a hand around the shaft, stroking it like a real cock. When Sasha pushed Brit onto her back and lined the blunt head against her slick folds, nothing else mattered. She felt every deliberate inch slide in, stretch her wide, and stayed open for more while Alisa's fingers worked circles over her swollen clit. Heat. Stretch. The soft slap of hips. Brit gasped, then begged, then came with the strap buried deep and Sasha's mouth at her throat.