Ass-fist fanatics

Nastie and Seren push beyond the usual. Two naked girls on silk sheets. Nastie stretches on her stomach, back arched, breathing slow. Seren drips lube across her knuckles. The liquid shines in the lamplight. Seren bends her wrist just so and presses the point of her fist to her girlfriend’s rim. She waits. The tight muscle flutters, pulls, then gives, until the whole width slips inside. Seren curls her fingers once she’s in, making her hand into a slow-moving bulb. Nastie groans, long and low. Pleasure drags the word up from her chest. With every gentle push deeper, Seren’s forearm disappears by measured inches until it stops at the wrist. Nastie reaches between her own legs, stroking slow. Her cries stutter, change pitch, become rapid shouts. Seren twists and rocks, never yanking, keeping pressure constant, like a tide coming in and out. Nastie’s cunt clenches around nothing, empty but eager, juices trailing down her inner thigh. In this rhythm the climax breaks sharp and sudden. Seren holds steady while Nastie shakes against her wrist, sweat gathering in the hollow of her back, a dark strand of hair stuck to her mouth. Two heartbeats later, Seren leans forward, tongue tracing Nastie’s spine, whispering exactly what they’ll try next.