Better In The Barn

They barely made it past the barn doors before Lylith slammed Missy up against the weathered stall. After the ride through dust and heat, sweat still slicked their skin and clung to the thin cotton clinging to their chests. Missy’s shirt stuck to her tits, nipples hard from wind or want, maybe both. Lylith dropped to her knees right there in the hay, yanked Missy’s denim open, and buried her tongue between the folds. Missy moaned loud, one hand grabbing a fistful of that red hair, grinding down on Lylith’s face like she wanted bruises where her cunt pressed against that tongue. Lylith pulled her own pants off with her free hand, then shoved two fingers inside her own soaked pussy, spreading the lips so the camera caught every drip. Missy came hard, biting her lip, thighs shaking, the taste of leather still on her breath. Lylith stood, pushed Missy down in the straw, climbed on top, and ground their wet cunts together until both their voices broke.