Fisting Session with Daniella and Bianca

Daniella had Bianca spread on the low black couch when we started rolling. One leg over the armrest, the other hooked around her waist, Daniella worked her wrist with slow, unhurried patience while Bianca breathed through every inch. No warm-up needed. Bianca was already slick, hips rolling to meet each twist and push until Daniella’s knuckles slipped past and her whole hand moved inside. Bianca’s breath hitched, then lengthened, a long exhale brushing Daniella’s ear. She ground down against the arm, riding the stretch, knuckles sliding against her walls. Daniella curled her fingers into a firm fist and rocked it deeper, twisting gently, pulling small gasps from Bianca that she swallowed with an open-mouthed kiss. They kept the rhythm lazy. Sweat pooled at the small of Bianca’s back and dripped onto the leather. Every now and then Daniella paused, thumb grazing Bianca’s clit, teasing her with a touch she barely gave and took away. Bianca arched, pushed Daniella’s free hand onto her breast and held it there, encouraging harder squeezes until her nipple flushed pink. Daniella pulled her fist almost free, stretched the rim with deliberate slowness, then eased it back in all the way. A quiet curse slipped out of Bianca as her cunt clenched around the thick base of Daniella’s wrist. Daniella stayed buried to the forearm, tiny pulses of pressure that made Bianca tremble but didn’t push her over. It was quiet pleasure, drawn out, the kind that only happens when you know each other’s bodies and tastes so well that even the quietest moan speaks volumes. They never stopped moving, never rushed, giving us a long, sensual study in time kept only by their breathing and the soft, wet sounds that filled the room.