Fucking the rimjob slut

Izzy was getting dizzier by the second. The lack of air was one thing, and getting more scarce the more she wedged her previously pretty face into this older man's ass, but it was the envy and the heat between her own legs, too. They were practically signaling to the world that she was open for business. And apparently, someone was answering the call.

While Mina giggled and kissed, whispering things Izzy couldn't hear from behind Ward's back, she kept her friend's hand in constant motion. It was a complicated process, and it didn't leave room for her original suitor. Paul must've gotten tired of waiting for her, because he came around behind Izzy. The brunette faltered for just a second. She could feel him watching her as she debased herself to get his friend off.

"Who would've thought?" he muttered, clearly enjoying it. Well. At least Izzy could take pride that she didn't seem like an ass eater. Paul crouched down, his hand grazing her throbbing warmth through the fabric of her bodysuit for a second.

"Ah," she squealed, and felt Ward jerk for a second.

But Paul was only interested in her warmth in the abstract. His hand slid up her skirt to part her thighs with a gesture. The fingers grazed as he grabbed for the buttons under her body, snapping them free. She gasped again, and Ward twitched a little harder. It made Mina laugh out loud. Without even seeing it, she knew exactly what was going on. Izzy sank lower. Her 'friend,' such as she was, had a sense for things like that. And she knew what Paul was angling for.

He pulled back her legs so that the leather skirt wouldn't pose a problem. She felt him get down onto the ground behind her and grabbed her hips. "Wait, I–" she stammered, but with Ward's ass in her face, his hand in her hair, holding her there, it would take a miracle for her to be understood. Or maybe he did, just like Ward did, and most of all like Mina did. Those three 'got' what she wanted faster and with greater depth than she could. And as Paul aligned himself behind her, she felt the last dregs of sensibility slipping away.

"You don't want me to fuck you?" Paul grunted. It was barely a question, because he knew the answer. 'Fuck' was the magic word. Even as Ward kept pulling her into himself, she heard it crystal clear. Her body moved. She adjusted her wobbling legs so that her knees were firmly against the floor. And then she felt the tip of his cock questing up her skirt. No condom, she thought. It was too late to ask for one. She didn't want to.