Teaching Angel Piaf

Angel Piaf leans back, legs open and waiting. Iwia settles between them, fingers slick and certain, easing each one inside with calm purpose. She works deeper, turning her wrist like she owns the movement. No fumbling, no wasted effort—just a slow, relentless press until her knuckles slide through and Angel’s breath catches hard. The blonde’s thighs shake. A soft, stunned sound slips past her lips, then another as Iwia’s hand rests fully inside her, tight heat gripping every inch. Angel clutches the sheets, body quaking, caught somewhere between shock and pleasure while Iwia stays steady, reading her every flicker and push.