Project Pandora: Part Four

Isadora thought she had it handled. She opened the box when she wanted, slammed it shut when she didn’t. Straight life, hush-hush, boring as hell—until the whole thing blew apart. She came out of a haze clutching her cunt, still seeing the ghost of teenage Kitty riding her tongue, only to find Julia parked at the foot of the bed, naked, eyes locked on the show. Julia fed her some tea that lit every nerve and started riding Isadora’s thigh, slick heat dragging up and down, mouth glued to hers. Isadora kissed back hard, secret out in the open, but the second her brain tried to yank the brakes she froze—until her stare dropped straight to Julia’s dripping pussy. That was it. She dove in, tongue working deep, chin shiny, sucking and licking like she’d been starving fifteen years for exactly this flavor. Julia shoved her onto her back, swung around, and the two of them twisted into every filthy sixty-nine they could lock without breaking bones—legs over shoulders, asses in the air, mouths sealed on clits while fingers disappeared knuckle-deep. They came in waves, screaming into each other, then slowed to lazy, wet kisses that said the clock could start again. Later Jenna catches the leftover tension on Isadora’s face and wants the story. Isadora spills every last detail, trusting her. Question is whether that trust’s about to bite her in the ass.