Miss Isabelle's light green hair, tied up in neat twin buns earlier, was loosened now.
Strands slipped free with every movement until the full length flowed down her back and brushed the curve of her ass, swaying gently as she rocked above him.
A few locks clung to her damp neck and shoulders, framing her flushed face and the way her lips stayed locked to his.
I watched every second, with my thighs pressed so tightly together my clit throbbed with every heartbeat.
My panties were soaked through; the cotton clinging wetly to my folds, and the fabric outlining every swollen inch of me.
My nipples ached against the thin purple wrap, so hard they hurt with every shallow breath.
I needed, craved, to crawl forward and press my mouth to his chest, lick the salt from his skin, then lower, take him into my mouth and suck until he groaned helplessly in pleasure.
