Get off plane

The jet’s stairs descend into the warm, humid Cancun night air, thick with salt and tropical sweetness. You step out first, stretching your legs after the long flight, your cock still half-hard from the show Claire and the girls put on for you. Behind you, Emma and Riley guide a visibly shaken Lana down the steps. The college girl’s legs are unsteady, her skirt wrinkled and her blouse barely buttoned, a sheen of sweat and cum still faintly visible on her inner thighs.

Claire stands at the top of the stairs, lips slightly swollen, giving you a professional yet filthy smile. “Safe travels, Mr. Johnson. I hope you enjoyed the service.”

You smirk and nod before turning back to your girls. A sleek black private limo waits on the tarmac, engine purring softly. The driver a tall, muscular local in a crisp uniform opens the rear door without a word, his eyes discreetly taking in the sight of the three beautiful, disheveled women.

Emma slides in first, pulling Lana in after her. Riley follows, sandwiching the younger girl between them on the wide leather seat. You take the rear-facing seat across from them, legs spread comfortably as the limo pulls away from the airport toward the exclusive private villa you rented.

The tinted windows roll up, sealing the cabin in cool, dim luxury. Almost immediately, Emma’s hand slips back under Lana’s skirt, fingers lazily stroking her still-sensitive pussy.

“Spread your legs wider, darling,” Emma purrs into Lana’s ear. “Let Ricky watch how wet you still are after what Claire did to you on the plane.”

Lana whimpers but obeys, parting her thighs. Her panties are long gone left somewhere on the jet floor leaving her smooth, puffy pussy exposed. Riley reaches over and tugs Lana’s blouse open completely, exposing her perky tits.

You watch with dark satisfaction as the city lights streak by outside.

“Tell me, Lana,” you say, voice low and commanding, “how does it feel knowing you’re going to spend the next few days getting fucked senseless in a villa with three people who own your holes?”

Lana’s breath hitches, cheeks burning crimson, but her hips twitch against Emma’s fingers