My Babysitter

Belle Knox walks into the spa and Ariella Ferrera stops dead. The vibe hits her. They both know they've seen each other somewhere. Then it clicks. Ariella used to babysit Belle when she wore cartoon panties and had pigtails. Now the kid is stacked, shaved, and lying face-down under soft towels. Ariella’s hands start proper, then they don’t. Fingers trace the backs of Belle’s thighs, dip a little lower, linger. Belle spreads just an inch—quiet invitation. Ariella’s tongue slides straight between smooth lips, warm and sure, lapping like she’s owed. “Still like when I tucked you in,” she murmurs, voice low and filthy, “only now I get to make you wet instead.” Belle moans, hips rocking against Ariella’s mouth. The licks turn greedy, tongue circling that slick clit until Belle’s thighs shake. Then Ariella climbs over, settles her own mature, dripping cunt on Belle’s open mouth. Belle licks without hesitation—messy, eager—until Ariella comes hard, soaking the girl’s pretty, blushing face with every pulse.