Teaching Valentina

Doris wastes no time. She slides two fingers into Valentina first, then three, working slow circles until her friend's body opens for more. Valentina's thighs shake when Doris adds her thumb. The stretch is perfect, almost cruel, and she doesn't stop until her hand disappears past the knuckles. Doris watches her friend's face—mouth slack, eyes half-lidded—as her fist moves deeper with each careful push. She crooks her fingers just enough to make Valentina keen, the sound low and filthy. Sweat beads at the small of her back. Doris presses in to the wrist and stays there, holding the pulse of it. When Valentina comes she does it around the hand inside her, clenching so hard Doris has to work to stay buried. She doesn't pull out until the tremors stop.