Nikki Brooks and Cory Chase in Tinder Date with My Two Step Moms

I step into my bedroom and there they are—Cory and Nikki—perched on the edge of my bed in silk that clings like a second skin. The moment I close the door, they pounce. They pay my phone bill, they tell me, which means they’ve seen every filthy message and photo. I swallow hard, but the heat in my face has nothing to do with shame and everything to do with how the lace stretches across their hips. Cory crosses her arms beneath her breasts. "I don’t believe that cock in the pictures was really yours. Prove it." My pulse skips, but my hands move. Belt, zipper, fabric—and my cock springs free, heavy and already twitching under their eyes. "Slow," Nikki says, voice low, smooth as cream. "Stroke yourself for us. Nice and easy. You don’t finish until we say so." Cory leans back against the pillows, spreads her thighs, and hooks one fingertip under the thin strip of silk covering her pussy. She drags it aside, exposing glistening folds, and begins to rub slow, deliberate circles over her clit. Nikki mirrors her, wide-legged, every slick sound filling the air between us. My own hand moves to their rhythm, palm sliding tight from root to head, a steady, aching tease. Cory reaches up, frees one heavy, surgically perfect breast from her lingerie, and rolls the dusky nipple between her fingers. Her other hand never slows—two fingers now dipping inside, coming out shiny before returning to her swollen clit. The wet, rhythmic sound pulls at my cock. I match it—stroke, pause, stroke—every inch of me throbbing at their command. Their pace quickens. Fingers blur. Breath comes shorter. Cory’s eyes lock on mine. "Now," she breathes, and they both gasp as pleasure hits. Permission rips through me. I give in, fist working fast, come surging in thick, hot pulses that stripe the hardwood. Their moans climb, tangle, crest—three bodies shaking, three voices spilling the same breathless sound at the exact same second.