pushed her legs back over her stomach. Then Marcela could feel the cut edges of the Kentucky Lime on the tender skin around her bottom hole. “I’m going to squeeze the fruit now, don’t freak,” said Lanasha.
She frowned and Marcela felt her bottom flooded with juice. Her asshole opened blindly for a moment and gulped some of it. She could feel the burning warmth going far inside her.
“How do you feel now?” asked Lanasha.
Marcela didn’t speak for a moment. She cleared her throat. Then she said, “How do I feel? Lanasha, frankly I need two yellow school buses of dick to drive right through me. Each filled with a whole soccer team.”
Lanasha made a satisfied chuckle. “I thought you said foot-ball,” she said.
“Okay, one football team, one soccer team.”
Lanasha rang a bell. “I think she’s ready for you, Ross,” she called.
Ross and Bono walked in. “Hot show,” said Ross. “I loved when your titties were hanging.”
Marcela began to turn slowly, smiling, and put her ass up. “You liked it when I was like this?”
“Yeah, just like that!”
Bono was standing to the side, staring at Marcela while Lanasha gently stroked his pecker. “Ross, sweetheart,” said Marcela, “where’s that nice young peeny wanger of yours? Is it still full of gobs of nice hot come?”
Ross said nothing, but Marcela watched Bono’s eyes follow something happening around back of her. Then Marcela felt two hands on her hips and a heavy, knobby pressure moving around the folds of her pussy, seeking a way in. She arched her back and suddenly, because she was so wet, a stiff immensity went deep and filled her up. She made a surprised groan and answered instinctively by slapping her ass back hard against Ross’s hips, then she pulled partway off his cock and let him slam into her again—once, twice, thrice, four times, and then she heard Ross say, in a fierce whisper, “Shit, baby, I’m coming!” She felt the thickness twitch hard inside her. “I’m sorry! Your pussy was just too hot for me.”
“That’s okay, honey, I like that you had to come right away—that’s supersexy.” Marcela turned and smiled at him reassuringly. He gave her an embarrassed shrug and grinned.
Lanasha spoke. “I think Bono’s got something all ready for you,” she said.
“Bono? You got something for me? My ass is still up. La-nasha, can you help this nice boy find his way? I’m still open for business.”
Ross slapped hands with Bono. Marcela felt Lanasha’s strong practiced hands pulling her asscheeks open, and then she felt a middle finger twiddle purposefully in her ass. And then, finally, Bono’s length of badness stuffed her gasping twat full of warm, brown dick muscle. Bono had more control. He said little, but he developed an oval rhythm, angling and slamming his smooth musclemeat in and out. He slammed fourteen strokes, and then he said, “It’s gonna pop soon!”
“Wait, stop, not quite yet,” she said, freezing. “I want to frig myself off while you’re still hard in me.”
“Okay, but if you move the tiniest bit I’ll come for sure.”
Marcela held three fingers together and circled and swizzled over her clit hood, while Lanasha’s finger darted and dithered in her ass. As she began to come, her cunt muscles tried to close around Bono’s motionless blood-pulsing truncheon. “Now!” she said. Bono pulled out almost to the helmet and slide-slammed back into her slippery salope, then out, then back in, and once more, and then five hard short strokes. “UHLLLLLLLL!” he said, followed by lots of snuffling. She felt a cold spray of sweat droplets on her back, and, inside, she again felt the long warm twitch of liberated jizm. “Oh, that’s it, fill me up with all that goodness.”
She lay panting on the massage table. Lanasha rubbed the backs of her legs with a cool washcloth.
Shandee Wears the Sponge Gloves
S handee left Dave’s arm to sleep late in the hotel room. She met Zilka for melon
She frowned and Marcela felt her bottom flooded with juice. Her asshole opened blindly for a moment and gulped some of it. She could feel the burning warmth going far inside her.
“How do you feel now?” asked Lanasha.
Marcela didn’t speak for a moment. She cleared her throat. Then she said, “How do I feel? Lanasha, frankly I need two yellow school buses of dick to drive right through me. Each filled with a whole soccer team.”
Lanasha made a satisfied chuckle. “I thought you said foot-ball,” she said.
“Okay, one football team, one soccer team.”
Lanasha rang a bell. “I think she’s ready for you, Ross,” she called.
Ross and Bono walked in. “Hot show,” said Ross. “I loved when your titties were hanging.”
Marcela began to turn slowly, smiling, and put her ass up. “You liked it when I was like this?”
“Yeah, just like that!”
Bono was standing to the side, staring at Marcela while Lanasha gently stroked his pecker. “Ross, sweetheart,” said Marcela, “where’s that nice young peeny wanger of yours? Is it still full of gobs of nice hot come?”
Ross said nothing, but Marcela watched Bono’s eyes follow something happening around back of her. Then Marcela felt two hands on her hips and a heavy, knobby pressure moving around the folds of her pussy, seeking a way in. She arched her back and suddenly, because she was so wet, a stiff immensity went deep and filled her up. She made a surprised groan and answered instinctively by slapping her ass back hard against Ross’s hips, then she pulled partway off his cock and let him slam into her again—once, twice, thrice, four times, and then she heard Ross say, in a fierce whisper, “Shit, baby, I’m coming!” She felt the thickness twitch hard inside her. “I’m sorry! Your pussy was just too hot for me.”
“That’s okay, honey, I like that you had to come right away—that’s supersexy.” Marcela turned and smiled at him reassuringly. He gave her an embarrassed shrug and grinned.
Lanasha spoke. “I think Bono’s got something all ready for you,” she said.
“Bono? You got something for me? My ass is still up. La-nasha, can you help this nice boy find his way? I’m still open for business.”
Ross slapped hands with Bono. Marcela felt Lanasha’s strong practiced hands pulling her asscheeks open, and then she felt a middle finger twiddle purposefully in her ass. And then, finally, Bono’s length of badness stuffed her gasping twat full of warm, brown dick muscle. Bono had more control. He said little, but he developed an oval rhythm, angling and slamming his smooth musclemeat in and out. He slammed fourteen strokes, and then he said, “It’s gonna pop soon!”
“Wait, stop, not quite yet,” she said, freezing. “I want to frig myself off while you’re still hard in me.”
“Okay, but if you move the tiniest bit I’ll come for sure.”
Marcela held three fingers together and circled and swizzled over her clit hood, while Lanasha’s finger darted and dithered in her ass. As she began to come, her cunt muscles tried to close around Bono’s motionless blood-pulsing truncheon. “Now!” she said. Bono pulled out almost to the helmet and slide-slammed back into her slippery salope, then out, then back in, and once more, and then five hard short strokes. “UHLLLLLLLL!” he said, followed by lots of snuffling. She felt a cold spray of sweat droplets on her back, and, inside, she again felt the long warm twitch of liberated jizm. “Oh, that’s it, fill me up with all that goodness.”
She lay panting on the massage table. Lanasha rubbed the backs of her legs with a cool washcloth.
Shandee Wears the Sponge Gloves
S handee left Dave’s arm to sleep late in the hotel room. She met Zilka for melon
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