Teaching Angel Piaff

Suzie moves in, hands already slick, easing her fingers past Angel Piaff's trembling lips, not her mouth. One knuckle at a time she opens that narrow cunt, watches the plush ring yield, relax, then draw her deeper. The muscles flutter, cling, then give again. It's been years since Angel pushed past three fingers, and tonight the old lesson comes rushing back. In the quiet between gasps she feels her body remember. She takes the thumb. Takes the knuckles. The whole fist slides in with a wet sigh. Wetness trickles, her thighs shake. When Suzie's wrist twists, slow, deliberate, Angel comes so hard her spine bows off the sheet, a drawn-out cry torn from her throat. Pleasure sears her nerves. The fist stays inside her, pulsing, commanding the last spasms of release before Angel sinks back, soft, open, spent.