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Polet No Panties Under Her Blue Skirt porn pic gallery
The late afternoon sun slanted through half-closed blinds, striping the wooden desk in golden bars. She sauntered in wearing nothing but that short pleated skirt and a thin white blouse tied loosely at the waist no bra, no panties, just smooth, sun-kissed skin waiting to be discovered. Without a word she turned her back to the mirror above the dresser, planted her palms flat on the desk’s edge, and bent forward slowly. The skirt rode up inch by teasing inch until it bunched uselessly at her waist, revealing the full, rounded curves of her ass firm from endless gym sessions, pale where the bikini line used to be. She arched her back a fraction more, letting the cool air brush between her thighs, accentuating the inviting gap and the subtle sheen already gathering there. Straightening only long enough to shrug off the blouse and let the skirt drop to her ankles, she stepped free, completely bare now. Long legs parted as she perched on the edge of the desk, one heel hooked over the drawer pull for balance. Her reflection stared back blonde waves framing flushed cheeks, full lips parted in anticipation. Fingers trailed down her flat stomach first, circling her navel before dipping lower. She spread herself open with two fingers, exposing the slick pink folds to her own gaze in the mirror. No hesitation. She rubbed slow, deliberate circles over her clit, watching intently as it swelled under the touch. Her other hand cupped a breast, thumb flicking the stiff nipple in time with the strokes below. Breath quickened. Hips rocked forward instinctively, chasing more friction. She slid two fingers inside, curling them against that sensitive front wall while her palm ground against her clit. The wet sounds grew louder, obscene in the quiet room. Through the mirror her eyes locked on an imaginary viewer smoky, daring, utterly shameless as if daring them to look away while she fucked herself toward the edge. Her thighs began to shake. A low, throaty moan escaped as the orgasm crashed over her back bowing, toes curling, inner walls clenching hard around her fingers in pulsing waves. She kept moving through it, drawing out every tremor until she slumped back against the desk, chest heaving, a satisfied, wicked little smile playing on her lips. Still watching herself in the mirror, she slowly withdrew her glistening fingers and brought them to her mouth, tasting herself with lazy licks. The message was clear: this was only the beginning.
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