Margaret straddled my hips before I could sit up—weight settling heavy, thighs clamping tight around me like a vice, dress riding up to expose pale skin, black lace panties already soaked dark at the crotch, the wet fabric clinging obscenely to swollen lips.
Patricia climbed beside us, fingers finally managing the zipper to open it completely—teeth rasping down in a slow, filthy drag. She tugged my pants and boxers lower over my hips in one impatient yank.
My cock still stood proud—heavy, thick, already painfully rigid and flushed a deep, angry crimson at the head. Veins stood out along the shaft like thick cords under taut skin, pulsing visibly with each heartbeat, the whole length twitching upward as blood surged through it.
It curved slightly upward, Margaret's manicured hands looked small when they wrapped around the base—fingers barely meeting, thumb smearing the leaking precum and their saliva in slow, deliberate circles.
