Sunbathed and Sunbaited

Desiree Dulce stretches out on the lounge, skin slick with oil, nothing on but that wide-brim sunhat and black shades. Feet planted wide, knees open, cunt already wet from the sun. She hears the gate latch click and doesn’t bother looking up. “About time you got here,” she says, voice lazy and warm. “Come on, baby. Lick it.” Kenzie Taylor stops dead, borrowed casserole dish still in her hands. She watches Desiree’s thighs flex, watches the way those smooth, shaved lips glisten. Quiet laugh. She sets the dish down and steps out of her shorts. She kneels, spreads Desiree wider with both hands, and runs her tongue up the slit in one slow stroke. Desiree sighs, hips rolling forward, thinking it’s her man home from work. Kenzie works steady, lips sealed around the swollen clit, two fingers sliding inside and curling hard. Desiree’s toes curl. She reaches down, grabs Kenzie’s hair, grinds against her mouth. The tongue keeps going. Sharp sucks, deep licks, a finger pressing up against that spongy spot inside until Desiree gasps. Her pussy tightens, thighs start to shake. That’s when she finally lifts the hat. Eyes wide behind the sunglasses. She freezes mid-thrust. “You’re not—fuck!” Kenzie doesn’t stop. She locks eyes with Desiree, tongue flicking faster. “Keep your hands where they are,” she murmurs, lips shiny. “I’m not stopping. Neither are you.” Desiree’s mouth opens like she wants to argue. Nothing comes out. Her hips roll again, slow, unsure, then greedy. Kenzie smiles against her cunt and pushes three fingers in deep. Desiree bites her lip hard enough to bruise. Heat climbs fast—guilt, shock, raw need—all tangled together. She grabs the back of Kenzie’s head, pulls her in harder. Minutes later she’s on all fours, ass up, cheek pressed to the hot plastic of the lounge. Kenzie is behind her, tongue buried, fingers working her swollen clit in tight circles. Every moan Desiree tries to bite back slips out louder. Sweat rolls down her spine. Her nipples drag the towel beneath her. When Kenzie slips two slick fingers into her ass, Desiree shudders, pushes back, begs without words. They change angles—Desiree flat on her back again, thighs hooked over Kenzie’s shoulders. Sun beats down. The garden fence keeps anyone from seeing, but not from hearing. Wet sounds, skin slapping skin, her voice cracking around Kenzie’s name. She comes hard, cunt clenching, juices running down Kenzie’s wrist. Still she keeps grinding, curiosity sharper than shame. By the time Kenzie slides up, straddling her face, Desiree’s tongue is out and ready. No more hesitation—just hunger, just heat, just the two of them making the backyard theirs until the light starts to fade.