Lesbian Retreat #02

Ariel grabs Trinity by the chin and shoves her face-down onto the mattress. She slaps the back of Trinity's thighs until the cheeks part and she can see everything pink and wet, glistening. "Lesson one," Ariel hisses. "Ask nice. Then take it." She pushes two fingers knuckle-deep, twisting, stretching. Trinity claws the sheets. Ariel's free hand yanks Trinity's hips higher so her stomach barely brushes the bed. Legs splayed wide. Nothing hidden. The bed frame rattles with every thrust. Ariel pulls out, licks her fingers, then sinks back in with three. Trinity's voice cracks when she begs to come. Ariel laughs low, pulls the fingers free again and smears the wetness across Trinity's asshole until it flutters. She presses the head of her strap-on there, slick and blunt. "Say you want it." Trinity moans the word like prayer. Ariel shoves in slow, steady, until her hips kiss Trinity's ass. Then she grabs a fistful of Trinity's hair and drives harder. Trinity reaches back, nails digging into Ariel's wrist. Ariel flips her onto her back, hooks both knees over her shoulders, folds her nearly in half. She fucks her that way until Trinity's heels drum against her spine. Sweat drips. Sheets stick. Every thrust slaps wet. Ariel leans down, bites the swell of Trinity's breast hard enough to bruise, and growls, "Good girls don't come until I say." Trinity breaks first—trembling, sobbing Ariel's name. Ariel doesn't stop. She flips Trinity face-down once more, mounts her like riding a stolen horse, one arm hooked under Trinity's throat, the other rubbing her clit raw. Trinity convulses again. This time Ariel follows, grinding deep, biting Trinity's shoulder when she comes, teeth leaving a ring of fire. They collapse, still joined, breathing like they've fought. Ariel licks sweat from Trinity's neck. "Next lesson's tomorrow," she murmurs, and Trinity already wants it.