Happy hours with Stella

Stella Delacroix hits happy hour horny and dressed to fuck. She’s sloshing margaritas, popping locks off blowjobs behind the bar, flirting like sin’s on sale. Inside an hour she’s cornered three stiff cocks, getting herself tripled over the table: one lodged balls-deep in her throat, one hammering her cunt from underneath, the third pounding her tight French ass while she squeals for more. The chick talks filthy the whole time, swearing like a sailor with vowels as round as those slamming cheeks. Dicks cycle like a conveyor belt; whichever hole gapes free gets stuffed instantly, lube glistening on thighs, spit drooling over her chin. Stella drains the first two while shaking orgasm after orgasm, only slowing when the bar door creaks and the third ruts harder. By closing time her shirt’s ruined, mascara smeared, and one asshole’s still pulsing cum down her crack. Worked up, still swaggering, she strides out cock-drunk and grinning.