Better Earn That A

Cherie slams Ivy against the chalkboard. The girl stumbles, breath rushing out of her in a shaky gasp. Ivy’s cheeks are flushed. Her panties are soaked—cream leaking from between swollen lips—because she can’t drag her eyes off Cherie’s hard nipples pressing through silk. “You smug little cunt,” Cherie hisses, teeth clenched. Ivy answers with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that tastes like cheap cherry lip gloss and recklessness. Tongues push and fight. Ivy grinds her dripping crotch against the older woman’s thigh, legs shaking. When Cherie finally jerks Ivy’s short plaid skirt up, the soaked lace of those panties clings. With a quick, sharp rip, fabric yields. Cherie drags two fingers through slick folds—sticky strings snapping between her knuckles—then drives them knuckle-deep. Ivy lets out a low, broken moan, hips bucking forward, greedy. They don’t make it to the desk. Cherie drops to her knees in the middle of the empty classroom and buries her tongue where it counts. Her mouth is sloppy, starved; each obscene slurp echoes off tile and glass. Ivy’s thighs tremble around her head. She cums hard, once, twice, sweet gush of girl-cum glazing Cherie’s lips. Ivy collapses onto the floor, fingers already clawing at Cherie’s blouse, popping buttons. Bare tits spill free. Ivy latches on, sucking greedily while her fingers fumble under Cherie’s pencil skirt. Two knuckles deep, she pumps her stepmother until Cherie’s breath rasps against Ivy’s hairline. Cherie rides those fingers like she owns them—slick, squeezing, greedy. When Cherie grabs a fistful of Ivy’s hair and yanks her down, the younger girl obeys instantly, dragging her eager tongue across swollen, flushed clit. Cherie’s thighs tighten. A tremor rattles through her, pussy fluttering, a fresh rush of cream coating Ivy’s chin.