A Christmas Orgy 2

You dropped to your knees. She stepped closer, thighs brushing your cheeks, stockings catching the glow. Her hand gripped the shaft, guiding you forward until her mouth sealed around the head. Tongue swirled once, twice. Then she took more. A slow glide of her throat met the thick inch she pulled. Hot breath hit the skin right where spit met skin. Behind her, another girl dropped to all fours. The third one straddled her back and aimed a candy-cane glass plug at her hole, twisting it until the rim slipped in with a soft pop. A wet smack followed her suck. She gagged, eyes tearing, mascara running down one side. You looked up. Her eyes were pure trouble, yet her throat kept working. One hand reached back to spread herself open, fingers splayed. The plug flashed red stripes. She pulled off you just long enough to pant "keep going," then took you deeper. Each swallow tugged, stroked, squeezed. Her soft cries hit the base of your cock like fists. Close to the window, pale moonlight rimmed a running strand from her lower lip to her breast. Someone turned the lights a blood-red. Now everything looked warm, wet, and messy. She kept swallowing. You didn't breathe much. You watched her throat bob and felt the plug twist again—slow, grinding. Santa's little sluts had plans, and they were writing them all over your skin.