Teaching Blondy

Blondy’s clever, but she wouldn’t let anyone help. She braced herself, fingers curled, and slid her whole fist past the slick pink seam between her legs. Her cunt opened, swallowed knuckle after knuckle, until her wrist rested flush. Sweat gleamed on her thighs. Sabrina Sweet watched the neat work and shook her head, pleased. She stepped between those spread knees, angled her own hand, and pushed. Blondy gasped. Sabrina’s fist went deeper, turning as it sank, stretching the glossy sheath wider. Wet sounds thickened in the quiet. Every slow thrust sent fresh ripples through Blondy’s belly; her hips rocked without asking. The fist filled her the way only an uncompromising lover can—total, sudden, steady. Blondy whimpered once, a thread of sound that broke as Sabrina drew back and thrust again, palm flush, a small rotation that flared the opening like a blown bud. The two women locked eyes, no mercy asked, none given.