Giselle

Giselle flew over from England to take the kind of pounding she can’t get at home. The camera finds her already on all fours, fingers buried between her cheeks, spreading herself wide for the lens. She slips two fingers straight inside, knuckles disappearing as she works her own hole open. A thick metal shaft attached to the machine lines up, and she pushes back to meet it. The first slow thrust forces her open; the next slams home. The motor hums and the rod pumps harder, driving deeper with every stroke. Giselle grips the bench and takes it, breath short, body jerking. The machine never tires. She keeps pushing back for more. Her arse is already marked with sharp tan lines—sun-bed, she says. More likely left by a pair of garters she never took off. The dildo pounds without mercy. She takes every inch until the shot cuts.