Teaching Jenny Noel

Jenny slides onto the velvet couch, her body almost lost against the cushions. Her thighs part slowly. The pink folds between them glisten under the soft light—swollen, exposed, and far larger than her delicate frame suggests. One hand slips between her legs. Her fingers trace lazy circles over her clit, then sink two knuckles deep without resistance. A third finger follows. She twists her wrist and her knuckles vanish with a quiet, wet sound. Her face stays calm, almost sleepy, as her hips roll upward to meet the steady thrust of her hand. Four fingers now, spread wide inside her. The lips stretch around her hand, slick and clinging, and still she pushes deeper until her thumb brushes the opening. Her breath stays even. A faint smile touches her lips. She draws her hand out and presses both palms on the couch, spreading herself wider, as if daring anyone to doubt what they see.