Teaching Blanche Bradburry

Easter draws near, and Suzie Carina and Blanche Bradburry are already forgetting the holiday. They have turned the living room into their own private arena, lips locked and hands busy. One blonde is already on all fours with her legs wide. The other drips lube over a clenched fist and presses forward. Knuckles stretch smooth pink flesh, then sink deeper with a slow, wet sound. The first girl pants, fingers digging into the rug. When the fist finally buries to the wrist, she pushes back and starts to rock, fucking herself on the hand. Meanwhile a wine bottle stands ready nearby, its neck glistening. Suzie tips it upward, sits on the glass mouth, and sinks inch by inch until her pussy lips grip the curved shoulders. Her hips roll, letting the cool glass slide in and out. Blanche watches every twitch and swell, her own cunt fluttering around the buried fist. Sweat beads on their skin; their breath mixes. Every thrust, every grind spills more lube and clear juice down trembling thighs. Nothing gentle. Just a long, unrestrained riot of stretched holes and greedy pleasure, two women taking turns until the room reeks of sex and the Easter hats lie forgotten on the floor.