Fisting Friends Doris and Tina

Whenever Tina lands in our country, she always makes time for Doris. They start over coffee, eyes locked, the air thick between them, until need wins out. On the couch their clothes come off quick. Tina spreads, legs wide, slick already, and Doris works two fingers in first. More lube. Another finger. Then her fist, inch by inch, knuckles pressing. Tina pants, thighs trembling. Doris pushes deeper until the whole hand disappears inside that warm, giving cunt. She moves slow at first, then faster, twisting her wrist while Tina moans and grips the cushions. Their rhythm grows wet, sharp, unstoppable. Tina comes hard, inner walls clenching down like a fist around the fist, wetness running down Doris's arm. They stay locked a moment longer, breathing heavy, sweat cooling, skin flushed, relishing every last pulse before it slips free.