Synchronized
She brought a movie. I made shrimp marinaded in beer. My girlfriend prepared the veggies. We watched the film while we ate.
“We can watch the extras,” Lay said. But then Leslie was standing naked and Layla was on her knees and my cock was hard.
Pornomania. Layla splayed on the bed, Leslie buried between her thighs, ample rump offered to me. I took my girlfriend from behind, jamming her face into Layla, the room reverberating with their lusty moans.
“I want to taste her on you,” Lay murmured breathlessly. And with me in her mouth and her hand grasping my balls and her eyes closed and her brown hair flowing she looked divine. Hungry mouth. Sounds of suction. I pulled out and kissed her.
On my knees behind Layla, my hands kneading her cheeks, my thumb pressed against her asshole, I watched her engulf me. I came in great undulating waves that went on and on, the head of my cock electric. Each waning thrust shot up my spine, lit up pleasure centers I’d forgotten about.
We tossed and turned during the night, Lay and I. She draped an arm over me; I draped a leg over her. Synchronized. She moaned and spread her legs. Half asleep, I reached over and gave her pussy a reassuring pat. She fell silent again.
The three of us crowded into the bathroom in the morning. I squeezed a line of toothpaste onto Layla’s brush. Watched each of them shower. Lay poked her wet head out from behind the curtain and licked me. Leslie propped a leg on the toilet seat and bent over. I entered her, still blinking the sleep from my eyes.
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