The Con-Artist's Surprise

Skylar Madison fucked up. Now she's stuck in a swank Caribbean hotel suite after bullshitting some suit about partnership. No partnership was ever in the cards. Her so-called investor sends over a surprise anyway. Lauren Phillips appears at the door. Within seconds she's peeling off her clothes, announcing the "special massage." Skylar bolts into the bathroom, heart hammering. This guy knows she only fucks women. The ultimatum drops hard and clean: ride Lauren or buy her own return ticket. She drops her dress right there. They hit the bed. Lauren straddles her, pours oil down her spine. Soon those hands slide lower, gripping Skylar's ass like it already belongs to her. They trade stories of past conquests, the words getting filthy fast. Skylar's hips roll, greedy. She flips onto her back and Lauren climbs on, working both heavy tits, pinching nipples hard. Skylar's cunt throbs. Lauren slides down between her thighs and starts licking like she means to break her. The orgasm slams through Skylar like a fist. Lauren doesn't give her time to breathe. She swings around, plants her slick pussy on Skylar's and grinds, clit to clit, both of them locked in the same hot, shaking finish.