Which Outfit To Watch Me Get Fucked In?

Weekend hit and Gypsy Rose woke up dripping. She cornered her husband with the bright idea of bringing in another body to wreck her, just for kicks. He shrugged, figured his freaky-ass wife earned it, and signed right up. She tossed out Dickdealer Don like it was already decided. "Cool," said hubby. "Tell Don to come through and while he’s here, strut a couple of those new lingerie sets you bought so he gets the picture." So Don shows, settles on the couch with a beer, and Gypsy starts a one-woman fashion show. Tiny thongs, see-through bras—she bends, stretches, flashes everything while the boys sip and talk. As soon as she leaves the room, hubby leans in: "She stays soaked, man. Like nonstop dripping. You down to lay pipe?" Don just nods. Next time she steps out, it’s a bra-pantie combo, all white lace against caramel skin. She peels the bra, drops the panties, and her big tits bounce free. Don’s hand slides between her legs; two fingers knuckle-deep inside her while her husband watches with a grin. Gypsy eyes the bulge in Don’s sweats, peels it out—thick, dark, heavy. She pops it straight down her throat, cheeks hollowing. Don palms one ass cheek, two knuckles working back to front while her husband coaches her to take it deeper. She climbs on the couch, lines his fat cock up, and sinks slow. Her husband hears her gasp—“bigger than anything I’ve felt”—and sees her cream coating Don shaft every time she bottoms out. Plunge after hard plunge pushes moans into yelps, then corkscrew-shudders. Don hits a sweet spot; Gypsy gushes hot squirt down his stomach. When he’s ready, he pulls out, gives one last fist-stroke and floods her tits, warm jets puddling on her cleavage while hubby smiles and passes him a towel.