Taste My Muffin

Candy Manson’s one of those girls who can bake like a champ and still look like trouble doing it. She’s stacked and shameless, knows it, flaunts it, and today she’s got fresh muffins for Brandy. Skinny girl smirks when the offering’s passed—until that damn can of Cool Whip slips. Blob lands square between Brandy’s tits, dripping down soft skin like it knows exactly where it wants to go. Both of them stare. Neither moves for a second. Then Candy grins—real slow, all teeth and zero guilt—and says fuck it. She leans in, tongue first, dragging lazy, filthy strokes up Brandy’s cleavage, gathering sweet whip and smooth tit in one go. Brandy arches back without thinking, pushing more pale flesh into Candy’s mouth. Candy hums, tastes vanilla and nipples, keeps licking—wide circles that leave the big, heavy tits glistening. She’s on a mission now, cheeks in full view of anyone lucky enough to walk in. She’s eating the mess she made, lips sealed over each stiff peak, sucking loud just because she can. Breast to mouth, mouth to breast; sloppy, wet, sweet, never stop till they’re clean. Brandy’s breathing hard, Candy’s moaning between mouthfuls, and the muffins on the tray just sit there cooling while their baker licks a whole other sort of dessert.