I let my fingers do the fucking*

“Lie back on the bed,” I tell Anna.

The bed is mostly unmade—the sheets are still sitting neatly folded in a laundry basket in the corner of the room. Anna lays her towel out and lies down on her back. She spreads her legs wide. “Take me,” she purrs.

I give her the finger, pushing it to the last knuckle into her hot, wet tunnel. It’s a satisfying squeeze. She bites her bottom lip and squeezes her perky titties hard.

Anna whimpers a little when I start rubbing her G-spot. “Mmmmmm, lover, that feels good,” she purrs. “Finger that little pussy, just like that, just—like—that . . . Feel how hot and wet that pussy is . . .” She starts doing her Kegels, clenching and unclenching around my finger. “Feel how tight it is . . . how wet you’ve made me . . . do you like that pussy, baby? Just imagine how good it will feel wrapped around your dick . . .”

I push a second finger in. Anna moans loudly and starts frigging herself. I pump her sex with my hand, enjoying the wet friction. “Just imagine how good that pussy will feel with something longer and harder than these fingers stretching it,” I say in a low, hungry voice.

Anna arches her back and rubs harder. Her body trembles slightly. “You need this, don’t you?” I continue. “You’re so hungry—you can’t wait to have my cock pounding you. All you can hear is your pussy screaming for more.”

I fuck Anna hard with my fingers, pulling up for maximum friction on her G-spot. Her legs wave wildly in the air; she catches one of them with her free hand. Her eyes close and she moans louder. Her moan rises to a wail as an orgasm hits her like a rockslide.

Anna’s hand stills. I bend down; my free hand swipes hers out of the way as it moves to grab a tit. I pinch and roll her nipple as I give her twat a long, rough lick. She squeals and cums again. I swirl my tongue around her clit, and she squeals louder.

“Fuck,” Anna gasps, “you eat pussy, too . . .”

“I devour pussy,” I growl. I suck her button hard and deep like I’m trying to suck the coating off an M&M. Anna makes several incoherent high-pitched noises. I pull with my head and hum the bass riff to “Bring Down the Birds.” She goes completely still for a split second, then erupts. Her hips buck hard into my face; her cunt squeezes my finger like it wants to compress it into stone; she screams at the top of her lungs, high and uncontrolled. She writhes and twists on the bed, her foot flailing wildly and her free hand clawing at the towel.

When her body stills, Anna pushes my head away. “That was in-fucking-credible,” she breathes. “I need a break—I need time to recover . . .” After a moment she says decisively, “I need that cock in my mouth. Back up and give me a little room.”

“Your command is my wish.”