Schoolgirls in Red Skirts

What a scene—nine thirsty brats in red plaid bending over desks and beds, lips stretched around every cock in reach, spit shining down their chins. Alexis leads the charge, sucking so hard her cheeks hollow; Anainda keeps the rhythm, tongue flicking like she’s counting strokes; Cassie gags, takes it to the back, mascara drifting down her cheeks. Dillion bends back, skirt flipped up, pussy shining; Dolly’s on all fours, begging without a word. Katrin’s riding with no patience, Kenzie moaning through a mouthful, Nancy still wearing her knee socks while some guy drills her from behind. Pigtails fly, ribbons slip, and every slick sound is louder than the next. Blouses wide open, tits bouncing, skirts hiked so high the world might see the wet spot on the wood under them. They switch partners faster than the lunch bell and nobody bothers to catch breath. If the hall monitor walks in now, hell—that’s just more meat for the girls. And they’re eating it up, eyes glassy, mouths open, holes greedy.