Nasty

She lies on silk sheets, honey-blonde hair spread across the pillow. Her fingers move slowly between her thighs, testing, stretching, the way a woman rehearses before the real thing begins. She slips one slick digit inside herself, then two, working both holes with practiced rhythm until her breath catches. When the man joins her, he presses against her lips first. Liz takes him deep, cheeks hollowing, spit trailing down her chin. He pulls free only to slide into her ass, slow at first, then steady, the tight ring yielding inch by inch. She moans around him when he switches back to her mouth, tasting herself. The final pull lands across her face—thick ropes striping her lips, her cheeks, her lashes—leaving her blinking through the mess with a satisfied smile.