House Arrest

Riley Anne's dying of boredom, trapped under house arrest. When her girlfriend rings, boredom flips to fire. She slips a hand between her legs and starts working her perfect little pussy like it owes her. She needs the distraction; this is it. Then Reagan Foxx walks in. Riley's eyes stay shut, fingers never slowing. Reagan takes her time, watching. Every stroke. Every soft gasp. Her step-daughter looks downright edible, and Reagan's mouth waters. She lets her presence known by touch. Fingertips brush Riley's nipples, then her tongue follows. Wet. Hot. The shock rockets straight to Riley's core. She keeps the phone to her ear, voice shaky but still lying. On the other end, her girlfriend knows nothing. Reagan gives the nipple a soft bite, a silent dare to keep talking. Riley tries. Sentences break into moans while Reagan's mouth slides lower and seals over her clit. The wet, filthy sound of tongue on pussy fills the room. Riley's hips buck; she grinds against Reagan's face, against the rules, against everything. "Want me to stop?" Reagan whispers. Riley's answer is instant. "Don't you fucking dare." Clothes hit the floor. Reagan takes over, telling Riley exactly what filthy things to say to her oblivious lover. Riley repeats every word, voice cracking with heat. Her pussy drips down Reagan's chin, hungry and shameless. The phone leaves Riley's hand. "Gotta go," Reagan says. "She'll call you later." Then she straddles Riley's face and drops that soaked cunt onto waiting lips. Riley eats like she's been starving for it. Reagan rides, hips rolling slow, breath hissing through her teeth, taking what she's wanted since the moment she heard her step-daughter moaning on the phone.