Pitching And Pounding

Britney Dutch looked like she’d been built from midnight and mischief. She hit the bedroom already wet, she stripped fast, and the boys followed like they smelled trouble. FrancisX got behind her first, thick cock sliding straight into her ass like it belonged there. Zack popped into her pussy right after. They synced up quick, cock in deep on every stroke, her voice running nonstop between groans and sharp little laughs. One of them talked sweet, the other went dirty, Britney took both and teased right back. Sweat ran. The bed squeaked every time the pair shoved in together. FrancisX gripped her hips like handles. Zack’s palm slapped her tit. She braced herself, clenching hard around both shafts, loving every shameless inch. When they started thrusting in tandem—slow, then filthy fast—she dissolved into breathless little giggles. Her legs shook. Someone slapped her ass and she twitched. Cocks pumped deeper, balls brushing close. The slaps turned wetter, messier. She arched, felt both men swell at once, and the three of them crashed together in sticky release, sticky heat flooding her front and back like somebody missed the stop sign. She came grinning, wetter than the sheets.