Teaching Gitta Blond

Madison's hands are small and elegant. Gitta watches them, already imagining the stretch. She has never taken a fist before—only fingers—and Madison knows this. She smiles that quiet, knowing smile and slicks her hand with thick lube until it glistens. Every finger gleams as she curls them tight. Gitta opens for her slowly. The first two knuckles slide in with a wet sound; then the widest part pauses, stretching her, burning sweet. Madison twists her wrist a fraction, and Gitta’s breath catches. Another slow push. The rest follows, sucked inside in one deliberate motion. Madison’s knuckles are warm and hard, pressing every inner ridge, reshaping her. Gitta’s thighs shake. The fist moves once—half an inch forward, half an inch back—and everything inside her clenches around it. Pleasure surges through her, low and relentless. She’s nowhere near finished; this is only the first lesson.