Teaching Berinice

Berinice walks in knowing exactly what she wants. The name gets around. They watch her kneel on the padded table, skin catching the low light. A thick glass dildo waits on a towel beside her. She takes it herself first, tilting her hips until it slides into place, one slow inch after another, her labia stretched tight and glistening around the heavy shaft. Her breath hitches. She stops just short of the widest point, teasing herself, then backs off again, clit darkening and standing out hard. Blue Angel rubs lube over her knuckles while Berinice watches. She feels the gloved hand first circle, then press flat against her entrance. A gentle, persistent push and the hand begins to slide in, knuckles nudging, thumb tucked. Berinice’s thighs twitch as she stretches open. She feels every ridge of fingers, every small movement of Angel’s wrist working her wider. The stretch turns sharp and deep inside, waves of heat rolling outward. She arches to meet it. They find a rhythm: Angel holds steady while Berinice rocks down, opening to the wrist, then easing back to the last flare of knuckles, always gasping louder when she repeats it. Sweat glistens between her breasts. Wet sounds fill the room. Her clit pulses untouched; every thrust of the fist rubs her G-spot from inside. When Angel curls her fingers and turns, Berinice cries out, thighs shaking. The final time Angel pushes deep and twists, Berinice clamps around the hand, body shuddering. A long, sudden rush floods out around the wrist and drips onto the sheet, then she goes limp with her hips still twitching. Angel slips free, palms her soaked folds once more, soothing now instead of demanding. Berinice’s breathing slows to a soft, spent laugh.