Chapter 8

Joy and I snuck down the alley behind the brothel. We weren’t exactly inconspicuous. A tall American and a gorgeous Czech. We’d play lovers if anyone happened by. Which we were, sort of. No one did. They would have almost had to bump right into us. It was dark.

The back of the Victorian mansion ended up being used as a parking lot. Three luxury cars and a couple of cheap compacts sat there. The only light came from a lighted path along the side of the brothel. But I could see a woman sitting beside what had to be the old coal shoot entrance into the basement, the pinpoint red of her cigarillo intensifying as she sucked in smoke. Even in the dark, I could tell she was a tough whore.

“Shit,” Joy whispered. “I’m not crawling.” Wearing a skirt, she made sense.

“I’ll take care of her,” I whispered back.

I walked loosely as if drunk but not completely inebriated right up to the woman. She stiffened when she saw me reach for something from the inner pocket of my black linen sports jacket while approaching her, and relaxed when she saw the rumpled pack of pall mall straights emerge.

“Got a light?” I asked. “Those fucking car lighters never seem to work, and I forgot my fucking lighter at the hotel.” My fingers pushed around the cigarettes until I found the joint hidden within. You never know if sharing some incredible big island hash buds might seal a friendship. I’ve never been a boy scout, but I like being prepared.

I had hoped not to smoke the potent weed, planning on pulling the gun from the back of my pants while she searched for a light, but voices heard coming down the side path changed the plan.

“Cool,” I said, when she stroked a kitchen match across the door I hoped to access. “You should try this. It’s a lot stronger than what you’re smoking.”

“Okay,” she said. A low, roughened voice.

I sucked in the smoke, making it obvious its purpose, while the two boisterous suits with terrible timing got in some fancy car. She had tapped out her cigarillo and accepted my joint by the time the car slowly exited. While she coughed I showed her the gun. “Open the doors,” I growled. When she made a play for her purse, I muttered, “Bad idea,” and pulled the purse away, tossing it to the ground. She tried kneeing me. I went with the flow and had her down on her knees with my arm around her throat. She soon passed out.

While Joy kicked open the latch, I went through the woman’s purse and found a nasty looking knife, shaking my head. “She’d be fast,” Joy explained.

“No lock,” I noticed.

“It’s usually not even latched,” said Joy.

We climbed down steep stairs carrying the woman between us. I pulled out a plastic tie (be prepared) to restrain her arms, securing them to the pipe under a wash basin, while Joy shoved panties into her mouth. That made me chuckle. Joy winked.

We took the old wooden steps, starting on one side of the building and ending at the other, a straight climb except for short platforms at each floor. Only windows had access to the stairs until the top from the house proper (so to speak). Joy knocked a pattern at the attic door. When it opened, I saw the knife, similar to the one the whore had.

“I knocked the code,” Joy said.

“Who knows?” Julio explained. “You could have told someone.”

“Why?” said Joy while hugging her adopted son. “You’ve really gotten paranoid.”

“Of course I have.” They kissed intensely.

“Who’s this?” came from a woman emerging from a room. Gorgeous and cute, she barely reached five feet. She looked a lot younger then I knew she was. Her dark eyes on her light skin, adorable face scrutinized me.

“This is the Private Investigator I told you about,” Julio told her. “Joe Solomon.”

“You trust him?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Joy. Julio shrugged.

Joy opened her arms to the petite beauty, and Bonnie entered them for a firm hug. “I missed you,” the young beauty murmured.

“I missed you,” the older beauty returned.

The kiss they shared shouldn’t have surprised me but it did, especially its passion. It must have surprised Bonnie as well because she said after, “That’s different.”

“It shouldn’t have been,” said Joy. “God I wish I could fuck you.”

Bonnie giggled. “That’s more like you.”

Several pops could be heard. “What was that?” asked Bonnie.

“A coup,” I said.

Scuffling happened below us. At first quiet, it got louder. Both Joy and I drew our guns. Julio had his knife again. We waited.

We heard a knock at the door opposite the one I had entered and a feminine voice shout, “Joe?”

I nodded to Julio and he opened the door, knife ready.

In walked Sonya, victory smiling on her face, followed by an elegant Mexican woman, Rodrigo’s former chauffeur, and two thick Mexican thugs carrying a small woman, a smug glare marring any beauty she might have.

“Where, boss?” one of the thugs asked Sonya in Spanish.

“Toss her on the bed,” she returned, which they did.

“What happened?” I asked.

“My girls got their revenge,” Sonya grinned. “Tied up her minions. Freaked out the only two johns left.”

“Americans?” I asked.

“Bearing guns. We pulled them out of bed naked at gunpoint. One says to the other, ‘This isn’t worth this bullshit.’ The other agreed. ‘You here after Julio?’ I asked. The tall skinny one said Dulcie had them wait a bit, that they’d get serviced for free. I asked if they got serviced and the fat sweaty one said he’d been interrupted. I gave their whores some money and whispered to tie them up on the bed but to give them a good fuck. We had their clothes and guns. It’s their money I gave the whores.”

The phone rang. Dulcie cackled. “I know who that is,” I said. “Julio, grab your knife and come with me. Who’s the best of the girls?”

“Me,” said the chauffer.

“Come with us.”

“What’s going on?” Bonnie asked.

“Let it ring,” I said. “Don’t answer it when he calls again. The third time answer it after five rings. Go grab a couple of girls and check the perimeter,” I said to the Mexican model. “Knock on the basement doors when you’re done. Toss me your keys, Joy. Come on.” I said to Julio once I caught them.

It didn’t take long for the knock on the doors to the basement. “No one?” I asked the chauffeur when I opened them. She shook her head.

I finally told Julio what I suspected when we got into the car.

“I’ll kill them,” he growled.

“You may have to,” I said.

“But how can you be sure?”

“It’s your only vulnerability besides Bonnie.”

He nodded.

“Tell me where.”

Before I took off, I saw Bonnie run to the car. The chauffeur let her into the back. “Joy gave me her gun,” she muttered.

Julio guided me. As I suspected, it wasn’t far. A small house just inside a less opulent neighborhood. I used the girls’ idea and parked a block away beside the alley entrance.

“Wait,” I said when both parents opened the door. “We need to be careful.”

“I’ll check it out,” said the chauffeur.

“Go with her,” I told Julio. “Try to keep your wits.”

He nodded.

“What do we do?” asked Bonnie after they left.

“Give them a couple minutes.”

“My mother betrayed me,” she said.

“She didn’t want you to find out,” I said. “But the girls fucked that up.”

“She finally told me she fucked Julio. I always knew she had, but neither of them admitted it.”

“How did that come up?”

“I said she’d finally fucked Julio and she said not for the first time. I told her I knew. I saw how she liked to bathe him. It became obscene when he got older.”

“He said he resisted your desire at first. That he acted uncomfortable.”

“Guilt. It’s what made his not confessing acceptable. And he did manage to keep her away from his bath after I seduced him.”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get closer.”

As we walked down the alley, the chauffeur appeared, waving at us. That worried me. I didn’t want Julio to jump the gun. He hadn’t.

I saw him beneath a window. A few feet away, a tall man lay inert, his throat cut. “Older brother,” I thought, shaking my head.

“I tied and gagged the other one in front,” the chauffeur whispered, “after kneeing him from behind and throat punching him. I don’t think I killed him. Managed to drag him behind a bush.”

“No one’s in the kitchen,” said Julio, sounding shaky.

“The kids are in the living room with the old man,” said the chauffeur. “I don’t know where the nannies are.”

“Or Jason,” Julio muttered.

“But you suspect.”

“Yeah. The nannies share a bedroom. Take shifts watching the children. Mine share another room, and the two babies share a third.”

“Access?”

“That’s the best part. The nannies’ room is closest to the kitchen.”

I nodded. “Stay with him,” I said to the chauffeur. “You’re with me,” I said to Bonnie, showing her my gun. She removed hers from the holster at her thigh, both lent to her by Sonya, and nodded.

Julio unlocked the back door with impressive care. He took off his shoes. We followed his wise precaution. He and the chauffeur walked slowly through the kitchen. His soulmate and I were a few steps behind, really just entering the house when he disappeared quickly through an open door, the chauffeur hurrying behind him. No more need for care, I followed Bonnie into the living room.

“Don’t shoot him in front of the kids,” I said.

She nodded, taking a breath. I moved past her and grabbed the gun the patriarch of the Whiteman family hadn’t quite reached. “On the floor, asshole,” I growled. When he got to his knees, I shoved him onto his face and braced his wrists with plastic ties. I looked up and saw the chauffeur shake her head.

“I’ll quadruple your pay if you let me go and hold Kyle or Julio or whoever the fuck he is,” said William Whiteman. “I just need to talk to him.”

I chuckled bitterly. “Just talk to the man who killed your sons?”

“What? No!” he groaned.

“Taking your vendetta or protection or whatever the fuck this is to Mexico was a truly bad idea,” I said. “I imagine you found no local support for your endeavors. As soon as the local police or even the federales heard Candy Box, they wanted no part of it. You’re playing a child’s game compared to the corruption you stepped into. People disappear. Not just a girl or two.”

I looked up and saw an older woman lean her head in. Her eyes were wide with trauma. I could see blood on her neck and figured it wasn’t hers.

“They’ll wash off as soon as the bathroom’s available,” the chauffeur explained. “Julio’s busy vomiting.”

“Did Jason use the opportunity of having two women tied up?” I asked.

“He started to,” said the beautiful Mexican.

“Have them wait, please. And shut the door.”

The chauffeur nodded and did as I asked.

Bonnie hugged her children. All three cried. “I need to call the brothel,” I said.

She gave me the number and I called it. “Do you understand cleaners?” I asked Sonya when she picked up.

“Yes. They are busy with my husband.”

“They?”

“A Russian and his scary Mexican wife.”

That answered my question about trust. “Have them visit, uhm...” Bonnie gave me the address, which I gave to Sonya. “I don’t think the Mexicans would accept a Russian house,” I said.

“My son,” she told me. “Well not actually my son, but officially. He inherits. He’s an arrogant bastard, but smart. He’s presently fucking his way through Spain. I guess he’ll have to end his adventures. But I’m sure he missed his girls.”

“Who were instrumental in killing his father.”

“He won’t know that. It seems Dulcie had enough of his acquisitional tactics when he went after her daughter.”

“What?” I heard shouted in Spanish.

“Shut up, cunt,” was her Spanish reply. “My boys here and my girls took care of it. Her and her cunt minions.”

“The police?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. But I’ll need Bon Bon’s help. Can I talk to her?”

I handed Bonnie the phone and heard her speak Spanish into it while I checked Julio’s carnage. Blood on the bed. Jason’s corpse on the floor. Two wide eyed older women, once pretty, but scarred by a whore’s past gazed pleadingly at me. Julio joined us looking pale. I stood in the hallway, keeping the children from seeing the bloodied women as they raced across it to enter the bathroom.

“You okay?” I asked Julio.

“No,” he admitted. “I hate killing. Even evil men.”

“Your third, I heard.”

“And fourth. I only met the older brother once. Not the greatest guy. I had nothing against him until he raised his gun at me.”

“The other kills?” I asked. “The one who threatened Bonnie?”

“The only one who didn’t make me sick.”

“But Jason killed Emily.”

“And I saw it,” he shrugged. “I loved her. She was sweeter than my Bonnie. No temper.” We shared a chuckle that had little conviction.

“We should go,” I heard behind me. “Take the children.”

“Where?” I asked. “The brothel?”

“First,” Bonnie said. “Sonya’s kind enough to let us use her home. But I’ll need to stop there. To contact the police. I’ll have to stay. Julio can accompany the kids. Why did my mother have to be such a bitch?”

“I should stay with you,” Julio argued.

“No! You need to stay with our children! And no fucking the girls! Wait for me and Joy. I’ll need you. Both of you.”

“Me too,” he said, kissing her forehead.

We went out the back door. The chauffer followed moments later. We heard the pop of a gun before she exited the house. Thick walls made it less loud than it could have been.

At the bordello, we didn’t bother hiding our presence. We parked in front of it behind a dark brown van with carpet cleaning signs on the side. Too ironic. Joy walked to the car as if she waited for us. She looked pale. Disturbed. When Bonnie exited the car, they hugged, and Joy climbed in. The chauffeur took my seat, driving the kids, Joy and Julio away.

Entering the brothel from the front brought me and Bonnie into a large room, red velvet gaudy. The inside matched the outside. A period brothel. Three women lay dead on a wooden floor in the middle. I saw a large carpet, Persian probably, rolled up and leaning against a garish crimson painted wall. One of the dead whores was the woman I had tied up. All had gunshots in their chest and head. Police would be well bribed.

“The cleaners?” I asked Sonya who had come down the overly ornate staircase.

“Attic,” she said. “Arranging things. Two assholes sharing a bed.” She handed Bonnie a small black book which Bonnie took through a door. Sonya followed her. The office I presumed.

“Where’s the asshole Americans?” I asked anyone.

“First two doors to the right on the second floor,” said a pretty Mexican whore.

I knocked politely at the first door, and saw a lean and busty black girl lifting her mouth from a long thick cock. The fat guy looked soaked in sweat. “Still at it?” I chuckled.

“He’s gifted,” she giggled.

“Untie him,” I ordered her. “Get dressed and go. Quick,” I told the man. “Before you end up dead.”

“Whiteman?” he asked, rubbing his wrists.

“One of the ones who died.”

“Fuck!”

“Friend?”

“Paycheck.”

“I know the feeling,” I said.

“You Solomon?”

“Yeah. He targeted me?”

“If you got in the way.”

“Julio?”

“Wanted him alive.”

“I got the same instructions.”

“Sounds like you took them seriously.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. Gotta check on your friend.”

“Nothing personal,” he said.

“Fuck you,” I answered back. I figured him for a cop on Whiteman’s payroll, but didn’t want to know.

I opened the other room without fanfare. The tall skinny man with the flaccid penis lay bound to the bed, unmoving. I asked the overly voluptuous blonde (Dyed. I could see the roots and the triangle of dark pubic hair.) if the man was alright.

“He say mean things,” she told me with a heavy accent. “He drink with pills. I gag him and blow him. He cum and sleep. I take off gag.”

“How many pills?”

“Three. Not too many.”

“No. Wake him.”

She smiled and straddled him, slapping him hard until he awoke. “Fucking pig,” he groaned.

“See?” she said.

“Yes,” I chuckled, removing his binding ropes. His colleague came in and helped, laughing. “Fuck you,” said the tall one...

With another guffaw, the fat man told him, “Better get your shit together. We gotta go.”

“Fucking Mexico.”

“Yeah. Any chance we get our guns?” the fat man asked me.

“No.”

“How about our wallets?”

“Downstairs,” I said, though I didn’t know. But I wasn’t leaving the two alone.

The pretty whore who had told me where to find them handed them their wallets. They objected to the lack of cash.

“You got your badges?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said the fat one.

“Credit cards?”

“Yeah.”

“Then be grateful and fuck off. Now!”

I escorted them outside around the house and to their expensive rental. Too bad expenses wouldn’t be paid. The Chinese “girl” hopped out of it and handed the fat man the keys.

“No hidden weapons?” I asked her.

She winked and shook her head.

“What part of Hawaii are you from?” I asked her, surprising her.

“Kailua. You?” Windward Oahu. More middle class communities.

“Waikiki. Born in Hawaii Kai.”

“One of those fancy houses?”

I shrugged. We watched the two corrupt assholes drive away. All kinds of corruption around me.

“Want to talk?” she asked me as we headed around front to the bordello entrance.

I watched a robust older Russian man and a tall slim Mexican lady a little younger pass us by, headed to the van. They both carried full backpacks, though the weight didn’t seem to affect them. Their grim faces never glanced at us.

“They look like a lot of fun,” I said.

“Scary fuckers,” she said.

“Talk?” I finally asked her.

“I’m not big into men except work.”

“Homesick?”

“A little.”

“Sure.”

As if timed, and it probably was, a couple police cars arrived soon after the cleaners left. Quietly. One was unmarked. It just looked like police. Two detectives emerged from it, and two uniformed cops from the other. All four veterans. They wore almost as grim expressions as the cleaners.

“You’d think a big payday would make them happier,” I said.

“What?” the Chinese girl asked.

“Nothing.”

We followed them into the bordello. The pretty Mexican whore led the oldest detective to the office door, knocking on it. Bonnie opened it. I could see Sonya in there. The whore kissed the detective and giggled. He patted her butt before disappearing inside. “The safe,” I thought.

It felt surreal talking calmly with the Chinese girl with a collection of corpses laid out before us. A few minutes later the three exited the office. The detective’s partner took pictures of Sonya and Bonnie together in front of the bodies and the older detective standing between them. Once done with that, Sonya came to me and kissed me deeply. “Let’s go,” she said.

I noticed Bonnie talking to the pretty Mexican whore who nodded. The whore then nodded to other whores, and they came to the police, pairing up. The cute Mexican went to the older detective. Bonnie came to us.

“What’s going on?” I asked them.

“We’re headed to my place,” said Sonya.

“I mean...”

“Sukie will look after things,” Bonnie explained, gesturing to the pretty whore.

“The pictures?” I persisted.

“A warning,” said Sonya.

“To future whores?”

“No.” said Bonnie.

“Unless they get in bed with the wrong people,” Sonya countered.

“I suppose,” Bonnie admitted.

“It’s to say who’s in charge now to those to whom it matters,” said Sonya. “The detectives will take pictures of the odd couple up in the attic.”

“In charge meaning you?” I asked.

“Yes. Rodrigo’s son will take over, but people who know things know that I’ll make sure nobody fucks with him and especially me, because I’ve always been the smarter one, and the one to point a finger at anyone who tries. My girls know how to get things done a lot smoother and quieter than any thugs.”

“Assassins?”

“I prefer bodyguards.”

As we headed out of the bordello to the limo, the girls following, I asked, “What about the bordello?”

“Sukie will be madam,” said Bonnie.

“Not you?” I asked as we arrived at the limo and got into the back.

“I’m not interested.”

“But she’ll still be in charge,” said Sonya. “Sukie won’t be like Dulcie. She’ll be there to watch over her ladies with care rather than a whip. Bonnie will take care of the rest, with me. We’ll be partners. I’ll actually be more hands on than her. Being madam for a day or just another whore. And we’ll look into acquiring other whorehouses in other states. Even using Rodrigo’s place. These are places to make money, to be sure, but they also provide ideal meeting places. Secure. With girls already there to suck cock and relax the gentlemen.”

“And be recorded?” I asked.

“Of course. Bonnie will look after the logistics as she has done for her mother. She will also be the liaison to the police and federales, also as she has already done.”

“More of a honey trap than a threat,” I said.

“I know how to sweet-talk,” Bonnie shrugged.

“And Julio?”

They laughed.

“Recruiter?” I asked.

“Of course,” they both said.

“And if he slips away again?” I asked.

“I’ll cut off his balls,” the black Brit offered.

“Not until he’s given me a couple more children,” Bonnie insisted.

“But if he’s unleashed to recruit?’ I reminded them.

Which gave them pause.

The voluptuous, petite Indian girl offered to keep her eyes on him.

“Not just your eyes,” Sonya giggled while Bonnie glared. Seeing the glare, Sonya shrugged. “He does require looking after.”

“Maybe I should cut off his balls,” Bonnie muttered.

I could see the girls restrain their giggles. Bonnie’s temper was obvious. Things got quiet after that. Bonnie didn’t look like she relaxed.

When we arrived at the late Rodrigo’s home, a line of servants and thugs lined up in front of the hacienda. The chauffeur approached as Sonya exited the limo. “Everything’s taken care of,” she told her boss. The line of men and women bowed. Any worry Sonya had got lost in her smile. Bonnie looked relieved as well, I think seeing the gorgeous Mexican not with her mate. She quickly passed through the line, which broke up. A servant girl went to her. “The children?” she asked Bonnie who nodded. “Follow me.”

I followed as well. We entered a large room which looked to be a place for play. A large TV had some Mexican children’s show on it. I saw game controls sitting idly on a table. The youngest, not much older than babies sat on the floor with Joy playing with toys. Julio sat between his kids on the couch facing the tv. The quiet volume and their intimate nearness spoke of bonding rather than distraction. Julio immediately got up and embraced Bonnie. Joy rose as well, looking ambivalent.

“I’ll look after them,” I told her.

She nodded and smiled and took Bonnie’s hand. “Follow me,” she said. The threesome left.

Sonya stood in the doorway. “I’ll help,” she said. She headed to the two youngest. I sat with the older children. My understanding of Spanish was rough at best. Sonya helped translate things as the children, obviously precocious, told of their lives and asked me about mine. Despite busy helping translate, Sonya rarely looked up from her charges. She even waved off the servant who had brought me to this room, sending her to get us food and drink.

Sometime later, an older servant, a careful man who must have been butler leaned over and whispered into Sonya’s ear. She nodded and whispered back. “The brothers have returned,” she explained.

“I’ll look after the kids,” I offered.

“We will help,” said the oldest child, a girl, slowly. I gave her a sour expression.

“You understand English?”

“Some,” she shrugged. I growled. She giggled, too cutely to hold a grudge, which I never really had. The kids were too adorable and too remarkably precocious and too well behaved to ever feel anything but amazement.

I noticed hesitation in the horny Russian beauty. “You like kids,” I said.

“I love their innocence,” she said.

“You hope they stay,”

She nodded, sighed and left.

I realized I had probably ended any more time with two of the most remarkable women I have ever been privileged to fuck. One with a gloriously capable mouth. The other with an impossibly tight cunt. Both stunning beauties. Both brilliant, commanding and worthy of respect. One happened to be extremely dangerous, leading a band of girl assassins and acquiring a business through assassination. Not a cartel perhaps, but of dubious legitimacy. And yet, despite that, and the fact that she had drugged me, I did not fear her. I admired her and also felt saddened by the toughness she’d acquired to survive and thrive.

After a few minutes entertaining the young children with Julio’s kids doing the better job of it, the door opened and three women entered. Two servants and the chauffeur. “Come,” the Mexican model basically ordered. I got up off the floor and obeyed. I had a feeling cumming would be happening soon for me and her.

I followed her out the back door of the huge mansion to a smaller house, watching the shifting beneath her knee length skirt of her tight little buttocks. I followed those movement up the stairs to a small bedroom where the petite, voluptuous Native American girl had been bound and blindfolded. I heard buzzing and saw a vibrator stuck up her snatch.

“Connie?” she moaned.

“Shut up, Cunt,” said Connie, Consuela I learned later. “Or I’ll leave you tied up and not touch you the rest of the night.” She spoke English I think for my benefit. “And keep that cock stuck of your cunt the whole time.”

The Indian woman wisely only nodded. But I noticed her expression of suffering when Connie let her wait, kneeling down in front of me and removing my shoes, pants and boxers. Taking hold of my half hard cock, she winked at me before her mouth made it fully hard. She helped encourage it by unbuttoning her blouse. I only saw glimpses of her small perfect breasts peeking out the opening. They needed no bra.

Once fully hard, she rolled on a condom I hadn’t seen her grab and crawled onto the bed and removed the vibrator, turning it off, and using her mouth instead.

“Mmm,” her lover moaned, but kept herself from saying words.

Nevertheless, Connie warned her, “Quiet, Cunt.”

She couldn’t really, but trying intensified her pleasure. She writhed within her restraints.

Meanwhile I climbed between Connie’s long lean legs. Her tight, perfect ass wiggled nakedly in front of me. Connie had gone commando, so to speak, under her skirt. I entered slick, blissful tightness. Slippery with an abundance of juices.

“Work makes me horny,” she moaned. I knew she didn’t mean driving.

I tried going slow, but her ass moved fast. I reached around to fondle her clit and her nipples. I found myself replacing her fingers with mine at her pussy. Hers went to work the nipple I didn’t.

The Indian came first, unable to control her keening. “Cunt,” Connie moaned. She grabbed the vibrator and shoved it up the woman’s pussy, then pulled it out, and shoved it into the lower hole. I wondered if Connie had prepared it, because the disobeying word, “Connie!” from her lover sounded like the intensifying of ecstasy rather than any discomfort.

Connie didn’t warn her. Instead the pounding and rubbing I had given the gorgeous Mexican had brought forth her own ecstasy. I fucked her harder through it, my cock demanding it. Trembling and babbling Spanish curses, she lifted her torso, grabbing my hand off her clit and bringing it to her other nipple. Her head bent back. She pulled my mouth to hers and we kissed, her tongue greeting mine with uncoordinated desperation.

Suddenly, when my balls neared release, she moved off my cock, breaking my contact with her breasts as well. Her hand pulled my cock down to her lover’s sopping cunt. “Fuck her Joe,” she ordered breathlessly.

“No,” her lover moaned.

I paused. “Her word is salchicha,” Connie told me. “Sausage.”

I nodded, understanding, and plunged into soft but buzzing pussy.

“Suck my clit, Cunt,” Connie ordered unsteadily, turning around and lowering her pussy onto the woman’s mouth. Her hand still held the vibrator. I felt the slow uneven thrusts against the bottom of my cock, adding pressure and vibrations to my already oversensitive flesh. “Fuck her like you fucked me,” Connie ordered, meaning hard and fast. I complied, wanting it anyway. Any chance of holding back ended. Seconds later I came. Thankfully the girl came with me. As did Connie. “She bites when she cums,” Connie explained later. “Luckily not too hard. Just hard enough.”