Two generations one cock

Helena touched her lips to Bruno’s while Ann Marie already had his cock in her hand. The two women fit together on either side of him, skin different, years apart, but the hunger in each look the same. One woman took him into her mouth, tongue slow and thick along the shaft, the other kissed her way down to his balls and stayed there. Breath hot. Swallowing quiet. Every time he pulsed, one of them murmured something low and pleased. Bruno changed grips often—palm between Ann Marie’s legs, thumb firm on her clit while she rocked against it, fingers from his other hand working inside Helena, steady and deep. Both women opened for him, lifted their hips, kept their mouths full so every moan came out muffled. He felt their thighs shake and didn’t let up, pushing his knuckles just enough to make Helena’s mouth go slack around him. Helena climbed on top first, knees bracketing his hips, sinking down slow so Ann Marie could watch her stretch and take the whole length. She rolled once, took everything, then lifted so Ann Marie could lick her own spit off his cock before he slipped into her in the same breath. They kept trading, one riding, one sucking on whatever they could reach—his nipple, his neck, each other’s mouths when the angle let them. Bruno’s hand stayed busy between whoever wasn’t on him, three fingers sunk to the last knuckle. He flipped them once Helena started to come, put Ann Marie face down, ass up, and drove into her until her voice broke. Helena stayed close, pressed kisses across the younger woman’s shoulder, held her open for him, whispered filthy praise in her ear. Bruno leaned in, bit Helena’s lower lip, still grinding hard, slick from both of them. He came deep, cock throbbing visibly with every pulse, fingers digging into their skin. They stayed folded against him afterward, lips swollen, breathing unsteady, already moving their hips again.