Teaching Alice and Leyla

Leyla Black’s fists ached for heat. Maybe the pretty Latina simply wanted her knuckles slicked in cunt; maybe she just liked how tight muscle squeezed her wrist until the skin turned white. Either way, Alice was ready. The tall blonde waited on her elbows, knees parted, breath slow and steady. Her thighs gleamed—shaved so close she looked polished, every fold outlined in lamplight. Leyla came forward, leaned in, licked once up the length of Alice’s seam, and Alice moaned low, a deep sound from somewhere behind her ribs. She spread herself wider. Leyla balled her hand, thumb tucked, and the first two knuckles sank in. A wet, fleshy sound. Alice bit the sheet, thighs trembling as Leyla’s fingers disappeared past the second knuckle, then the third. The stretch pulled a slick line of come down Leyla’s forearm. She curled her wrist, twisted her fist inside, knuckle rubbing every spongy ridge. Alice’s belly tightened; each short, gritty moan lengthened into a purr that built the faster Leyla pumped. Another twist and the sound became louder, heavy, sloppy, every push dragging a fresh rush of wet out around the knuckles. Alice gripped her own calf, toes curling, the heat from her cunt coating Leyla’s wrist like hot lacquer. Her thighs shook again, spine arching, hips rolling into each thrust until a final gush spilled over Leyla’s forearm and onto the sheets. Alice laughed, breathless, as Leyla stilled—fist still buried to the wrist—letting the tight, twitching heat hug her hand one last time.