Carter Cruise leans over a naked Ivy Wolfe on the rug, fingers tracing her lips while the firelight paints their skin. Ivy arches back, legs spread, as Carter’s mouth travels lower, tongue working between her thighs with slow, deliberate pressure. The two blondes shift into a grinding sixty-nine, Carter’s ass rising and falling as Ivy pulls her closer, both lost in the wet rhythm of each other’s mouths.
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