two vixens on one cock sex story

The dark-tressed lovely brought her unsteady hands up to the
hasp of my belt. As she did, I dumbfoundedly noted that Lorena’s
hands were snaking around the girl, and gently kneading the
youngster’s small breasts through the satin covering.
Determinedly, Rebca unloosed my belt and pulled at the buttons
down the front, randomly brushing the side of her hand against my
fully tumescent sword. Suddenly, the loose trousers fell, baring
my ass in the back. They surely would have dropped to my ankles
but for being engaged on my pride and joy, which now was jutting
straight out.

Rebca’s hands dropped away, and she stared at the cloth covered
pole as though uncertain what her next task would be. She barely
noticed as Lorena drew the straps of her gown over her shoulders
and down her sides, pulling her willowy arms through. The small,
pear shaped breasts impetuouse poked out, the pale nipples as
hard as Lorena’s. Lorena whispered in Rebca’s ear, and then she
glanced over to the gauze-blocke vestibule. Rebca nodded, and
grasped my pants at the sides, near the front, and slowly worked
them down – past the tip of my cock – and down to the floor. The
rod bobbed in front of them, and I could have sworn I heard a
sharp drawing of breath elsewhere in the room. The two maids’
faces momentarily were frozen; Lorena’s in the open-mouthed smile
of a child who has just discovered cocoa-based candy, and Rebca’s
in an indescipherable, mesmerized stare.

I have had but a few lovers, but those in a position to know –
such as my renowned flute instructor Mademoiselle Jeara and
Countess Fedragon (more of whom I will relate later) – tell me
that the length and breadth of my jewel is rarely matched by even
the largest of grown men. It must be true, for I fairly can say
that the two young women on their knees before me were suffering
from the sort of astonishment one normally would associate with a
great surprise.

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At last it was time to leave the office and proceed to the street again. My
breathing was inconsistent and my normal walk with the perky stride was
impossible. I alternated between almost running and slowing to a very slow
pace, trying to arrive at precisely the right time. As I approached I was
disappointed to see no one there. Suddenly, a car horn broke into my thoughts
and there you were. A Black 1957 Thunderbird, with a white top. Naturally it
was in mint condition and sparkled all over. You reached over and opened the
door for me. As I climbed inside my dress raised a little to show you my left
thigh.