A surprise for Melissa

Becky looks down at you both, hands on her hips. Jutting proudly from her mound is a hot pink dildo. She winks and you wink back. Melissa hasn't seen Becky. This will be fun.

You crawl under Melissa, pulling her into a sixty-nine embrace. Once more she pushes her tongue into you. You bend your legs, knees in the air.

You bury your face between the legs above you, pressing your tongue into your cousin's sweet jinny. You slurp and lick, drinking deep. She tastes so sweet, her thick juices covering your mouth and chin.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Becky sneaking up. Silently, carefully, she kneels between Melissa's legs, above you. Tenderly, gingerly, she nudges forward. She mouths "Now," to you. You wrap your arms around Melissa, holding her tight, pressing your hot bodies together. You turn your attentions to Melissa's hooded clitoris, sucking it into your mouth.

Without warning, Becky thrusts forward, burying the dildo deep into your slutty cousin in a single fast thrust. Melissa yelps and jumps in surprise, your grip preventing her escape.

Mel's shocked struggles quickly turn to writhing, under the combined forces of Becky's hard thrusting and your sucking. Her head lolls between your thighs, her breath gusting along your engorged lips. You slap her arse, growling "Lick me bitch!"

She rushes to obey and you groan into her clit. Melissa's thrusts back build in speed, her grunting becoming guttural, "Fuck my cunt Becky! Fuck it!"

You feel Melissa convulse above you and intensify your ministrations. As Melissa cums, screaming, Becky pulls out and drags Melissa up. Her pussy lands on your face and you hurriedly drink down the hot juices rhythmically being squeezed from her quivering body above you. Becky holds Mel steady as her body goes limp.

The rest of your night passes in a seething mass of sliding flesh. Slick with sweat and each other's juices the three of you rub your bodies against each other, inducing yourselves into a lust fueled stupor. As the sky brightens with the false dawn, you gradually slow to a stop in a tangled, panting heap.