Vegas Sins: Part One

Dahlia's out in the wild for once. The uptight wife is across town and out of her hair, which means her secret freaky side gets the night off. Some low-end dealer just slides her a card with a tight little brunette on the front; she dials right there on the curb. Finds herself talking to Syren De Mer, head of the outfit; the money in her voice triggers something in Syren, and she clears the schedule like nothing is a bigger priority. Place is a neon-drenched dive. She walks in and there's Cadence—tight body, wicked smile, tattoos and a cotton-candy top. Cadence smells nerves on her like expensive perfume. Line of small talk turns slow, filthy, friendly—Dahlia married an ice queen and miss sunshine here just woke up every buried hunger, straight. Close in her ear: just touch, just relax. Then cadence strips quick, peeled down to nothing above tan thong panties, drops into Dahlia's lap and starts grinding silver-hard nipples up her throat. Canvas, gasping—like her wife's never even touched these perky tits, so much cheaper to lick. Agent Cy can't stop teasing, lifts Dahlia's skirt, sucks a fat pink nipple quick and slobbery, gets her squirming. Windows fogged fast out. Time to dive she fingers Dahlia's shaved lips, plush nude clit wrapped against insistent fingers long, so Dahlia ends up gripping arms desperate and eye's total white orgasm high. Wave hits instantly and loudly cums ocean of hard pulsed wetness spat over thin blue silk. Mouth inside wet mouth all sharp impulse feel welcome when they go soft collide—if they wear nothing from head heels thrust gate by orgasm making hungry stiff thighs stick molten. Thirty seconds tangled both lost fingers deep inside stroking rubber two good girls that feasting happy spack entangled glutch parted leggies leaving heavy wet spasms coughing climax strong dirty sluts final early night chat result in circuit climax torrence screens on the ceiling their lips.