Bianca Hills Buggers A Guy And His Friend

Bianca’s dressed, then she isn’t. Black lace peels off one shoulder, the other follows, and both guys in the condo sit up straighter, swearing under their breath. She spins once, letting the bra drop, thong snap, and each cock punches tents straight up—two stiff salutes in the living room. Knees hit carpet. One thick head bumps her tongue, then the second, double mouthful stretching her lips. She pops free long enough for one of them to drag his mouth between her legs while the other holds her hair, hips rolling on a face that’s no longer just greeting her. Somebody’s ass finds the couch cushions, someone else’s finds a flat table. Moans sync, knuckles white, skin smacks. Bianca rides one cock reverse-cowgirl and feels the other press for the tighter spot; a short slick fist-full of lube, she sinks back, taking that second cock up the ass, setting the rhythm. Clockwise switch, counter-clockwise switch; she’s back and forth, stretching around each guy in turn while their groans tangle. One fucks, one watches, both trade places fast enough to make her head spin. Three bodies lock, knees slipping, sweat slick, the condo sofa squeaking like it’s rooting for overtime. When everybody finally shudders to a stop, Bianca stays seated, full on both fronts, tossing her damp hair back with a half-laugh at the ceiling.