Teaching Lucy and Gina

Lucy and Gina lie face to face on rumpled sheets, legs hooked over each other's hips. No clear lead. Lucy slides four fingers into Gina first, palm flat, thumb tucked. Gina pushes back, the same way, and the wet sound fills the room when both hands sink deeper. They take turns curling, opening, but the moment turns mutual fast. Lucy's knuckles ease past Gina's slick ring; Gina answers by twisting her wrist and stretching Lucy wider. Sweat gathers in the hollow of Lucy's throat. Gina licks it away, then bites. Their hips rock together, hands buried to the wrist now. Breathing turns ragged. Every thrust meets a counter-thrust. They trade short instructions between gasps—more angle, slower, deeper—yet keep eye contact and the same filthy grin. Both girls come shaking, still locked wrist-deep inside each other, thighs trembling around the other's hand.