Wicked games

Vica Ryder slid four fingers deep, then curled her thumb under and pushed harder. Sophie took the knuckles with a shaky breath, wet and tight around the hand. She was soaked. Her hips rolled, asking for more. Both hands worked now—Vica driving steadily in, Sophie catching each thrust with soft gasps. When Sophie’s own panties were balled tight in her fist, she pressed them straight into her cunt, inch by inch, until only a strip of lace hung outside. Vica watched, mouth open, still wrist-deep in the warmth. The panties disappeared, and Sophie moaned, light and dirty. Vica flexed. Sophie clenched.