Jailhouse pussy

Picture Mandi in a tight jailor’s uniform. The leather belt cinches her waist. She peels the top open and her breasts spill out—perfect, round, the nipples stiff. Turning, she slides the skirt up over the curve of her ass, the cheeks bare and smooth. She leans back against cold bars. Her hand drifts between her thighs and parts the shaved lips already glistening. Two fingers sink in with a soft, wet sound. She works them slow, then faster, breathing rough. Her other hand finds a thick black rod on the bench beside her. She spits on the blunt head, then presses it to her opening, inching it deep until her lips stretch tight around it. A moan slips out. She changes angle, rocking her hips so the rod rubs every swollen ridge inside her. Juices run down the shaft and drip onto the floor. She frees one slick finger from her cunt and reaches behind. The fingertip circles the tight ring of muscle until it yields. She pushes the digit through, knuckle by knuckle, stretching her ass while the rod keeps pounding her pussy. Both holes clench and flutter, greedy and greedy. She pumps both in rhythm—deeper, harder—until the bars rattle and her thighs shake.