Breath coming quicker both in reaction to Miaren's thrusting body, the scent of her rut unmistakable in such close confines, and the oh so very real invasion of her own flesh.  With no instructions to the contrary Fern's fingers continue to mirror Adamion's in as exact a replication as she is able.  The squirming of the other woman's hips driving her own fingers deeper, soaking her hand and wrist in her sticky cream.<br/><br/>"You're doing so good.. " whimpering, she tries to proceed, her own breath and voice finding it difficult to maintain the prescribed litany with the casual introduction of a leathern touch.  A minuscule squeak finds voice with an involuntary puckering, though not enough, not nearly enough to prevent the unlooked for and undesired insertion, pushing past the tightening ring.  The heat of the thing relaxing her twitching muscles even as she shivers, wanting nothing more than to push out the offending rod she instead focuses on resuming her ministrations on Miaren, sure if she made the attempt something far worse would replace it.<br/>