When girls go bad... - part I.

She planned the soft stuff. A few gentle kisses, light stroking, two women playing coy for the lens. Instead the air thickened the second her tongue met mine. Heat flared low in her belly, and the slow rhythm fractured into something frantic. I pushed three fingers into her without preamble, felt the silk give and clench, and realized I wasn’t slowing down. She moaned into my mouth, hips tilting, greedy for the next intrusion. A silicone shaft as thick as a wrist appeared, gleaming with lube, and she opened for it in one long, trembling breath. When it finally disappeared between her thighs, her slick coated the shaft in a creamy ring, every inch taken. My knuckles followed, sliding knuckles-deep, knuckles wide, until she sobbed my name and flooded the sheet. We kept going, toys traded, fists replaced, until the camera caught nothing but open legs, open mouths, and the steady sound of skin striking skin in hard, perfect cadence.