Lesbian blonde loves to taste muff

Lena loves the taste of vagina in the evening.
In your surprise, you could do nothing but open your lips to her. Your
mouths touched, and the touch was electric. Her tongue slid in without
resistance, meeting yours, probing, searching. Her body pressed
against yours, and through your dress and corset you could feel hers,
hard and trim. One arm was wrapped around your waist, the other
stroking your hair. You clutched at her back, devoid of thought,
writhing in her grasp. When she finally raised her head, your eyes
were closed, panting. No mere hint of arousal now: you could feel the
moisture between your legs, demanding, begging for more. After an
instant she retrieved her crop, and led you up the staircase. You
followed behind her by one pace, meek, afraid but far too lost in
desire to resist anything. Up the stairs, down a hall, through a door,
another hall, until you were lost in the maze-like mansion, until
finally you reach a door for which she produces a key. (Who is this
woman, you think, who has keys to a house she does not live in.)