Teaching Sylvie

Months passed before Sylvi finally knocked. Barely new to porn and already needy for something rougher than fingers. We put her on her back, legs split wide, cunt glistening. One slick hand slipped past her lips first—four fingers knuckle-deep, wrist twisting slow. She hissed through her teeth, hips twitching. Then the thumb tucked, and pressure built. Knuckles stretched her open. We pushed. A wet pop and the whole fist sank inside, ring-tight at the wrist. Sylvi arched, breath punched out of her. We started gentle. Long, steady strokes so she felt each knuckle drag along her walls. Her pussy clenched in time with our rhythm, slick running down our forearm. Soon the pace picked up—short jabs, then deeper rolls, turning inside her like we owned the heat. She cried out, thighs shaking, heels digging into sheets. We gave her no mercy. Rotating, pressing the bulge of our fist against that swollen spot till she sobbed. When she came, it burst hot around our wrist, muscles fluttering like a second heartbeat. She left shaking, pussy red and puffy, and still begging to learn more.