Teaching Sophie Moone

White Angel doesn't linger. She slides two slick fingers into Sophie's open pussy, then three, then a fourth, stretching the soaked cunt with steady pressure. Sophie gasps, hips lifting off the sheets, but White Angel only smiles and keeps working her hand deeper. When her knuckles slip inside, the whole fist follows in one slow push that leaves Sophie trembling. Every muscle flutters around the thick intrusion; Sophie feels each knuckle, each ridge, exactly the way White Angel promised. Her cunt is dripping down White Angel's wrist, hot and greedy. She has never been this full, and she cannot decide whether to beg or thank her for it. A silky debt paid in the same ruthless currency: a hand where she aches for it most.