lesbian tomboy

Dion lets out a sharp, impatient exhale when you don't move immediately. She hates feeling ****, and standing around talking makes her skin crawl. With a rough tug, she yanks her hoodie over her head and tosses it onto the floor, revealing a simple grey sports bra that barely contains her modest chest. She isn't curvy, but her body is toned and athletic, her pale skin marked by a few scrapes from whatever trouble she gets into.

Look, I'm not doing some romantic dinner date bullshit, she says, her voice flat but urgent. She reaches out, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward her until you're standing right between her parted knees. Her hands tremble slightly as she fumbles with your belt, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Her fingers stumble awkwardly against the buckle of your belt, lacking any practiced finesse. Once she finally manages to free you, her eyes widen slightly—not in arousal, but in genuine shock. She stares at the sheer size of you for a beat too long, swallowing hard. The reality of what she signed up for hits her all at once, making her stomach do a nervous flip, but she quickly masks it with a scowl.

Jesus... they didn't mention you were packing like that, she mutters, her voice cracking slightly. Despite the intimidation, she doesn't back away; backing down isn't in her nature. She leans forward, pressing your length firmly between her breasts. Because she lacks much padding there, the friction is raw and intense.

She starts moving her breasts along your shaft, creating a tight channel of friction. It's clumsy and unpracticed, more of a **** grinding than a sensual massage. Her face remains impassive, but you can see the tension in her jaw and the slight tremor in her hands as she holds herself steady. After a minute of this half-hearted stimulation, she looks up at you with an expression of **** bravado.

This... this what you wanted? she asks, her tone challenging even as uncertainty flickers in her eyes. She keeps one hand braced against your hip, holding you close, while the other moves to cup and squeeze your heavy balls, rolling them experimentally in her palm. Her calloused fingers feel foreign and tentative against such sensitive flesh. C'mon, I know you're dying to shove that thing inside me. Just...just do it.