Morphine - Part 5

She shoved two fingers into the redhead’s soaked cunt and smiled at how fast the fat girl opened. Her hips rocked; huge tits shook. The blonde kept her pinned with one hand flat on her collarbone, thumb brushing the base of her throat while her fingers pumped deeper, slow and deliberate, knuckle by knuckle. When she had the plumper right on the edge, she pulled her wet hand away. She buckled the thick strap-on over her hips, spat on the head, and lined up. One hard thrust buried the silicone cock to the hilt. The redhead cried out, then moaned, a low sound that vibrated in her chest. They fucked like that for a while—blonde driving, redhead squirming, the slap of skin loud in the quiet room. The blonde leaned down, caught the fat girl’s stiff nipple between her teeth, tugged, and watched her arch. Then she reached between their bodies and grabbed the little vibe waiting on the sheets. She clicked it on and pressed it to the redhead’s clit, never slowing the steady rhythm of the strap-on. The blonde’s free hand snaked between her own legs; she rubbed her bare pussy in short, frantic circles, breath stuttering against the redhead’s throat. Every time the fat girl clenched, the blonde pushed harder, riding her orgasm out with quick, brutal strokes until they both went slack, sweat-slick and panting against the tangled sheets.