Teaching Carla Cox

Iwia slid two fingers into Carla's soaked cunt and found her glove already warm and ready. The brunette's knuckles sank past slick folds while her wrist turned, stretching the tight heat open. Carla took every inch without a word, hips lifting to meet the slow thrusts that came next. Fingers curled, pressed, and the first spasm hit hard, clenching around the moving hand. Another followed, then a third, each one wetter and louder than the last. The slick sound of skin on skin filled the room. Carla's breath broke into short gasps. Iwia kept the pressure firm, palm flush against her clit, driving each tremor deeper until Carla lay limp, trembling, unable to take more air than the shallow pants leaving her mouth. When her eyes finally fluttered open, they held a silent promise: next time she would wear the glove herself.