Fisting Session with Angel and Suzie

They knew each other’s hands so well they didn’t call it teaching—just a long, wet afternoon fisting on the velvet sofa. Suzie’s knuckles push past Angel’s slick lips first, thumb tucked, wrist straight, the heat inside grabbing at every inch she feeds her. Angel’s belly tightens; she pushes back, greedy for more, until the broad ridge of Suzie’s fist slides in fully. A slow, deep pulse follows, the wet walls squeezing down like velvet fists of their own. Suzie feels the thick, warm grip, loves it almost as much as the slow roll she’s offering. When they switch, Angel curls four fingers in first, curls the fifth, and drives past Suzie’s open, dripping cunt. She holds still, lets the tight, hot sheath ripple along her wrist, then begins small, steady circles that draw breathy curses from both mouths. Sweat beads, muscles flex, their shared hunger driving the movement into steady, rhythmic work.