Teaching Betty Saint

Two brunettes sprawl across the sheets like they own them. One has her fist buried to the wrist inside the other, and every thrust sends a wet slap through the quiet room. Stella works her hand in short, rolling pumps—knuckles, then palm, then the stretch and slide back out. Betty’s thighs twitch each time Stella’s wrist twists and her knuckles graze that swollen front wall. Betty’s not playing coy. She rocks down to meet every push, cunt gaping, lips stretched shiny around Stella’s knuckles. The fist pulls almost free and Betty’s hole flutters, stays open, then swallows the hand again in one greedy pull. Her breath catches hard when Stella curls her fingers against that spongy spot that makes the younger girl moan low and full. Slick trails down Betty’s ass crack and soaks the towel beneath her. The stretch sounds obscene—wet clicks and soft suction. Stella leans in, breasts brushing Betty’s inner thigh, and drives deeper until her knuckles press up against the cervix with a firm, dull nudge. Betty just spreads wider, begging without words. Every pump draws another thick gush of clear slick; it runs over Stella’s forearm and drips onto the sheets. Betty’s abs jump and flutter, her cunt spasming around the buried wrist as she rides the edge, panting, right on the brink.