Backstage with Anita Dark

Here’s Anita, my long-distance girl, looking back at me across the hotel sheets. She’s rolled onto her side, tits heavy against her arm. My hand parts her thighs and she spreads for me right away, the inside of her cunt already shining. Two fingers slide in; the wet sound snaps the quiet. She arches her back to press deeper. I curl my knuckles and she gasps, thighs trembling. My thumb drags lazy circles over her clit until she’s rocking against my palm in tight, needy thrusts. Her nipples draw tight, lipstick lips parted like she’s forgotten how to swallow. One more push of my fingers, deep as they go, and her mouth opens wider—no sound, just the pulse of her cunt squeezing down hard. Her hips stutter, every muscle locking, then release floods warm over my knuckles.