The Bay, Continued

"Damn, Joanie, you do pick some dimes for our anniversary," the suave Mexican Marco said, his hand drifting down to tug your short black skirt up, revealing your round brown ass.

"Only the best for my husband," Joanie said, smirking. She was in her mid-40s, a MILF, so to speak. Her cock was tiny, even smaller than your remnant, and she'd had her balls removed voluntarily. You took a drink of champagne and took a step closer to her. She fished you out of your panties, rubbing her impotent flaccidness against yours. Under the influence of the champagne, you were both horny, and both unable.

Marco's thick eight incher would have to satisfy you both. He had a manscaped crotch, dark black. He'd been Joanie's long time lover, even in their idyllic youth, the moth and the flame. Joanie's dad hadn't taken it well, but after years, they'd reunited. And Joanie loved her husband so much, she let him taste a different girl's throat and ass on their anniversaries.

You and Joanie continued to frot as Marco lined up behind you. You grunted, a deep, loud noise, guttural, from your throat, as Joanie's small white dicklet rubbed against the tip of your own. She was leaking from the decadence of it all, as Marco laid the pipe to you, his prized whore. His big cock slammed in and out, your feet balancing precariously in the high heels, as your sensitive tip was assaulted by Joanie.

You and Marco came simultaneously, him into the rubber, his cock deep in your ass, and your weak mess combining with Joanie's shiny leakage. You gripped Joanie, gasping, and looked at the wall to see a handsome older man and a beautiful blonde. Wasn't that ... Carrie?