Pure joy

It started as nothing more than two girls fooling around. Then the strap-on appeared. Pure Angel saw the harness snap into place and didn’t flinch. She sank back, legs open, hips tilting up in invitation. Anita Pearl had spent nights practicing on pillows, practicing the angle, the thrust, the rhythm of someone who thinks with a cock. She buckled the last strap, ran her hand down the silicone length, testing its spring. The rubber warmed under her palm, already slick from lube. She climbed over. One slow push slid the head between wet lips, then deeper, until the base pressed tight against her own clit. Pure Angel gasped at the sudden, solid intrusion and reached for Anita’s waist, nails biting skin. Their bodies found an immediate tempo—smooth, greedy, skin slapping skin. The mattress creaked beneath them, moans rolled out in sharp bursts, and sweat started to gloss their shoulders while the strap kept sliding in without mercy or pause.