Flexy

I stretch, twist, bend. My body answers in ways that have nothing to do with gymnastics. Between my cheeks, the tight little ring shows how supple it really is. One finger first, just the tip, then a second, the muscle yielding with a slick welcome. The camera catches every detail: how the star widens, narrows, flutters, and opens again, glossy and wanting. Blonde strands fall over my face while I fuck my own ass with measured strokes, watching the shine coat my knuckles. Later the brunette joins me, smooth thighs sliding against mine. She lines up a thick toy at the same hole, eases it in until the muscle swallows it whole. A soft pop marks each thrust, the pink skin pulled snug around the shaft, then letting go again. We trade places. I lie back, knees pinned to my shoulders, and she eases two fingers inside me, twisting, stretching, making the ring bloom open for the lens. Every inch is on display: the wet shine, the faint pulse, the way my body keeps taking more without a sound.