“Alright, ladies,” I announced using the word in its loosest sense. I leant back in my second-hand, faux leather chair with its cigarette burns and continued, “I’ve got a proposition for you that could change the course of our firm. Hear me out.”

Lan and Nga, the two female Vietnamese accountants who were my only staff, both looked up from their phones, not their work I noted, and rolled their eyes as I was always coming up with ideas that would turn my small, outdated, underperforming Accounting firm into the next big thing. Yes, my ideas had all failed, but this one was different. Of course, I had felt the same about the last 15 ideas: all of which had been unlucky failures. Unlucky in my eyes anyway.

I was thirtyish, actually 39 so I still qualified, Aussie accountant and what I had lost in hair I had more than made up in weight, especially in my belly which now bulged over my belt. My office was situated above a Chinese-run $2 shop. However, my goal, still unrealised after 15 years, was to have my business operating in the Corporate World. Walls of ceiling-to-floor windows with views of Port Phillip Bay from so many floors up you would get a nosebleed. I would dress in Armani or Brioni suits, not my present Target one and my staff would look like Victoria’s Secret models and consist of many more than my two Vietnamese.

My Accounting practice operated in a constant state of chaos due to my inability to concentrate on one money-making venture, plus their dislike of each other. Lan, 25, was a spoilt Vietnamese princess: an outgoing, airhead wannabe beauty, whose brain was always thinking of fashion, makeup or sex. Sometimes, if I was lucky, she thought of the work I paid her to attend to. All of this was packed into a 5 ft 4 (5 ft 8 when wearing her heels), 32B 23 32 body. Nga, 35, was bespectacled, plain looking and bitter at the world as she was past the age when a Vietnamese would marry her and her scrawny 30A 22 29 body wasn’t much help for interest from any other race.

Both were always threatening to quit, but I took that with a grain of salt. Neither would get an Accounting job anywhere else. Lan’s year 12 results were so bad she ended up in the bottom-tier tertiary institution to which the government directed overseas refugees so that they were not unemployed but ‘students’, thus artificially lowering the unemployment rate which was good news for the government. Nga had arrived from Vietnam aged 30 and studied at a dodgy Indian-run course for Permanent Residence institution, just before public outcry had closed this method of mainly Indian students gaining Permanent Residence and the ability to then sponsor relatives here. As I had trouble acquiring good, or even mediocre, staff, they were the best of a bad lot.

They had fallen through the crack somehow. Vietnamese women either became surgeons, lawyers, business professionals etc. or hairdressers/beauticians. My two were glorified office clerks and, might I say, I paid them accordingly. But they knew there was no other business that would employ them as accountants, so they wouldn’t be leaving.

I outlined my latest scheme. I had heard there were a lot of North Vietnamese investors trying to get their money out of Vietnam and invest it in Australia, fearing a change in government cliques there could lose their insider contact and therefore their wealth. To achieve that they needed a facilitator here. A bit like the Nigerian prince thing, but safer. My source was impeccable: Lien at the Golden Touch massage parlour, and it had only taken me 5 sessions at my discounted rate of $140 an hour to get the full details from her.

However, there was a hitch. At our 6th session, Lien had told me Thuyen, who owned the Accounting firm down the road that was putting me out of business was also aware of this. In my opinion, Thuyen had a reputation for thinking she was the sexiest woman and greatest cougar in the world. How she managed to do any accounting with the time she spent on TikTok and OnlyFans I don’t know. Not that I looked, mind you.

So, my plan was that Nga and Lan sexfight, and the victor would represent our firm against Thuyen, whose pride would not allow her to back down. We would use some trickery I had not yet thought of and we would win. The prize for the sexfight with Thuyen would be obtaining exclusive rights to the North Vietnamese investors. See, I told you this idea was a good one.

Nga raised a tattooed eyebrow higher. “You’re joking, right,” she asked, her Vietnamese-accented English dripping with scepticism that she hoped I wouldn’t notice. Lan, seeing Nga was opposed to it, immediately chose the opposite. She leant forward. “I’ll do it,” speaking and displaying her tits through the translucent blouse she wore to successfully distract me away from her many work errors. Of course, that then meant Nga wanted to compete against Lan and she was also in.

I watched as they both readied for action. Lan unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a black 1/4 cup bra that supported and exposed her firm tits and allowed her nipples to stand free. Obviously, she had done this before in public as well as practicing in front of a mirror. She shot Nga a smug smile. “You know, Nga,” she said, as she fondled her tits, “You’re going to need more than what you have to distract Thuyen because you haven’t got beauties like these.”

“And what makes you think your plastic assets will win the day, Lan,” Nga hissed, her fingers undoing her dress? She stepped away from the pile of fabric at her feet, uncasing a body barely covered by her thong and a red, see-through bra.

My cock started to swell as the two of them finished stripping. Lan’s smug smile faded as she stepped out of her black thong and realised she had been insulted. She shot back, “Plastic? At least mine don’t look like overcooked dumplings.” Nga responded by sliding out of her red thong to reveal her shaven mound and spread apart her cunt lips. “This is what will decide who is best.”

“Alright,” I began, my voice somehow steady despite the growing stirring in my trousers. “Here’s what’s at stake.” I laid out the terms of the contest hoping they hadn’t noticed an unnamed sizable bonus and an unspecified share of the new client’s contract for the victor. I watched as their expressions grew more intense, as money talk had always been a motivator for these two.

Nga took the initiative, her hand slipping between her thighs. She started to stroke her clit, her eyes locked on Lan’s. “You know, Lan,” she hissed, “You can’t match this.”

“You think you’re so much better?” Lan hissed back. “Let’s see if you can still talk trash when I make you scream.”

In reply, Nga stepped closer, her hand working her clit in slow, deliberate circles. Lan’s eyes widened and my heart raced and pumped blood to my cock as Nga’s fingers moved faster until her breathing came in short, ragged bursts. Suddenly, she threw her head back and let out a low moan, her body shuddering. A gush of fluid spurted from her pussy, arcing through the air to splatter across Lan’s toned stomach and thighs.

“Are words the best you’ve got, Lan?” Nga taunted, “I can make myself squirt with just my fingers. Can you?” Lan’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of Nga’s hand between her legs still working her clit. She knew she had to respond with something better, something that would show me and her office workmate that she was the superior woman. She strode over to me and without a word and as quick as a cobra striking its prey, she reached down and unbuckled my belt, unzipped my trousers and sank to her knees.

I felt cool air on my cock and then the heat of her breath. Lan’s hand wrapped around it, stroking it expertly before she took it in her mouth. She looked up at me and began to blow me, her mouth working hard to accommodate my fuck meat. Her cheeks hollowed as she took me in, inch by inch, sometimes gagging and withdrawing, but always returning to her task. Finally, my entire shaft was buried in the warm, wet cavern of her mouth and throat. Her cock sucking skills told me why she always refused overtime: she was doing other things not related to accounting.

Nga watched from the side, her hand momentarily still between her legs, and swore as her efforts had not only been matched but surpassed. Lan didn’t acknowledge her, focusing solely on the task at hand. Her cheeks bulged as her throat worked hard to accept my swollen cock. I felt my balls tighten, signalling that I was going to cum soon.

Lan’s eyes watered, but she kept up her relentless rhythm. Every bob of her head sent waves of pleasure shooting through me, and the sound of her semi-gagging only drove me onward towards orgasm. Her grip on my thighs tightened and her nails dug into my flesh as she worked to take me deeper. I watched my cock, slick with her saliva, slide in and out of her mouth with each downward motion of her head.

Just when I couldn’t hold it any longer Lan’s eyes widened, as Nga’s grip on her hair pulled her mouth off my cock. Not much good to me as with a guttural groan, I shot my load, spraying it over the two. Within seconds they became a tangle of bodies, arms and legs, biting, kicking and scratching before I separated them.

“Hold on, ladies,” I said, raising my hands to prevent any more physical damage, especially to me. “Back to business. The terms of a sexfight are simple. There is one rule. You can do whatever it takes to make the other cum, but it has to be non-violent.”

As that didn’t seem enough to stop them, I quickly added, “And the winner of the SEXFIGHT not only gets the bonus but also two hours of unrestricted access to the loser’s body, right here, in front of me.”

Nga smirked, her hand stroking her pussy. “Lan, I’ll have you begging for mercy before the first hour’s up,” she hissed.

Lan’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, her own hand drifting down to caress her shaven mound. “You think you can handle me, Nga?” she replied. “I’ll show you what a real sexfighter is.”

They circled each other, glaring at each other. The prospect of not just winning the bonus but also claiming two hours of controlled pleasure from the loser had their need to win hotter than the coffee they regularly split on my desk. Nga stepped closer to Lan, her hand reaching out to cup her younger colleague’s cheek. A second later Nga’s mouth crushed into Lan’s. The kiss was the start as Lan responded and their tongues met in a battle of wills.

Nga’s hands roamed down Lan’s body, caressing her larger tits before sliding between her thighs. Lan’s knees buckled slightly at the touch, but she didn’t break the kiss. Instead, she reached behind Nga, her hands finding the older woman’s hard arse and gripping her buttocks. Their kiss grew more frenzied as their tongues sought first blood.

Lan’s fingers found and slipped between Nga’s sex lips, then teased her inner cunt. Nga’s responded as Lan’s fingers opened her sex folds and her thumb found Nga’s clit and began to manipulate it with a circular action. With a gasp, Nga’s knees buckled slightly, and she pressed against the probing fingers, her body betraying her even as she tried to maintain her self-control. Lan continued her magic, her digits moving in a steady, rhythmical motion that soon had Nga’s hips and body humping her hand. Nga’s moaning increased as Lan’s fingers slid in and out of her pussy, her thumb circling the sensitive nub of Nga’s clit while her fingers explored inside her slit Her breathing quickened and her eyes rolled back in her head as the sensations overwhelmed her. Lan’s fingers of her free hand stroked Nga’s skin adding to her arousal.

“No, Noooooo,” Nga moaned. Her legs trembled, and she reached back to grab the edge of the desk for support. Lan’s confidence grew and she quickened the pace, her thumb pressing harder against the swollen bud of nerves and feeling the pulse of Nga’s arousal throbbing through it.

As I stroked my cock, I watched Lan’s fingers disappearing into Nga’s pussy. They were slick with Nga’s juices and working hard as she clinically brought her opponent towards orgasm. Her fingers were a blur between Nga’s thighs and Nga’s small tits heaved: her nipples as hard as pebbles. The glasses she wore fogged up, reminding me of a librarian in a porno video I had seen.

Lan was winning and enjoying Nga lose control. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and a long keening wail began. Her body arched, the desk being the only thing that kept her upright. Then, with a gush of love juice that spurted around Lan’s hand, coating her fingers with sticky cum, she orgasmed. Lan withdrew her hand, a smug smile playing on her lips as she held her cum-covered fingers up for me to see.

Immediately, she brought her fingers to her mouth and licked them clean with a slow, deliberate motion, her tongue curling around each digit enjoying her ascendency. Nga’s body still trembled from the aftershocks of her first climax. “Looks like you’re going to have to do better than that, Nga,” Lan taunted, “Maybe if you actually knew how to pleasure a woman, you’d be able to keep up with me.”

Nga’s eyes snapped open, and she glared at Lan, the arousal on her face turning into a snarl of anger. “You think that’s all I’ve got?” she spat. “I’ve eaten more pussies and made them cum than you’ve had shits, you fucking whore.” She lunged at Lan, wrapping her arms around her. Lan yelped in surprise, quickly wrapped up and unable to struggle. Her body slumped as Nga took her down to the floor. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Nga hissed, “Let’s see how you go when you’re not in control.”

Lan gasped and arched her squirming body, trying to break free, but Nga’s grip was too strong, her body weight too much to shift. “I’m going to put you in your place, bitch,” Nga growled as her fingers slid into Lan’s pussy.

Nga felt good but I felt even better, knowing it was not going to be over quickly now she was fighting back. Lan’s arrogance disappeared as Nga worked over her love box, and soon she was reduced to a whimpering, writhing mass of need. Their heavy breathing, Lan’s wailing and the sound of Nga’s fingers driving into Lan’s wet cunt and the slap of skin on skin were the only sounds in the office if you don’t count my groans of arousal. It was one sided and Lan’s body writhed on the floor as Nga’s fingers played within her, each second bringing her closer to her cum.

With a huge effort, Lan managed to free herself enough to start kissing Nga. Their tongues clashed again but Nga managed to roll them into 69 with herself on top. Her tongue dived deep into Lan’s sex, exploring her inner walls and tasting Lan’s sex juices. As her tongue hammered Nga’s clit, her teeth occasionally grazed the sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Nga’s body.

Just when Lan exploded and came in Nga’s mouth my phone’s jarring ring interrupted, and we all froze. I cursed and picked it up. Thuyen’s infuriating, confident chuckle was on the other end of the call, her voice as contemptuous as ever. “I hear you’re looking to challenge me with one of your so-called accountants. My daughter, Phoung, has heard of your new approach to business negotiations. She’s insistent that she participates alongside me.”

I swallowed hard, playing for time. “Two of you? That’s Ahh, good,” I managed to say. My voice was strained and I hoped she didn’t hear the lack of confidence in it. Why don’t my plans go the way they do in my mind? Meanwhile, Lan and Nga had resumed and their bodies were again moving in unison, their tongues lost in each other’s cunt.

“Indeed,” Thuyen purred. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it work, won’t you? Surely you can afford to pay 2 workers.” Her amused put down hurt, and I felt a bead of sweat roll down my spine and a renewed hatred for the bitch who was putting me out of business.

Lan and Nga’s moans grew more desperate as they still competed locked in 69. The sight of them, despite the disturbing phone call, had me reaching for my cock. But money and the vision of my business in the corporate world took over and I stopped beating my meat. The phone call had thrown a wrench in my plans, but it also gave me a way out of paying the winner a bonus.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” I said, interrupting their passionate battle. Eventually, they both looked up at me, their mouths and faces covered in each other’s juices. “You’ve both shown what you’re capable of, but it seems the stakes have changed.”

They broke their embrace, panting heavily, and glared at me for interrupting. “What do you mean?” Lan gasped, her centrefold tits heaving and destroying my concentration.

“Thuyen has thrown a spanner into the works,” I announced. “Her daughter, Phoung, wants in on the action. You’ll both be fighting them to win the rights to the clients.”

The room grew silent for a minute as their brains ticking over slowly, then their sticky bodies separated. Lan and Nga looked at each other, the fire in their eyes still burning, but now mixed with a hint of doubt. “What does that mean for us? Do we stop?” Nga asked her hand still idly playing with her clit. There was now no doubt about the scrawny, plain-looking, bespectacled Vietnamese’s endurance or love of sex.

I took a deep breath, trying to arrange my thoughts. “Yes, you stop this. It means that instead of one of you facing Thuyen alone, you’ll both be fighting together against Thuyen and her daughter, Phoung.”

Lan and Nga exchanged a look, the fire in their eyes back. “Both of us? Me, work with this bitch that I’m easily beating “ Nga stated, pushing herself up onto her elbows, her small tits swaying as she moved.

“What do you mean, both of us against Thuyen and her daughter?” Lan demanded, her tits rising and falling with each breath. “And, by the way, it was obvious I was winning.”

“I’m not going to fight with this bitch. No way,” yelled Nga. Lan screamed,

“The same for me. I won’t be handicapped with a beginner.” Nga glared at her, wiping the last of Lan’s cum from her chin. “I’ll show you who’s the amateur.”

I pleaded, trying to keep my voice steady despite the raging boner in my pants that still wanted to see Lan and Nga continue their fight. “Phoung wants to join in, and her mother won’t budge. It’s the only way we can get the North Vietnam business and the money from new clients.”

They wanted to finish their sexfight, but then they thought of the money. Deep down they knew they had to co-operate if my business was to survive. Not that they cared about my business, but they cared about having an income and knew they were unemployable elsewhere. “Ladies, we have to accept this challenge. You’ll both be facing them together in a tag-team match for the client’s contract.”

Nga climbed to her feet, her body glistening with sweat. “You expect us to share the prize?” she hissed, her eyes narrowed and calculating. Unlike her office work, suddenly she was good at calculating figures. One divided by two is smaller.

“Yes,” I said slowly as though speaking to a brain-damaged person. “You’ll both be fighting Thuyen and her daughter. So, instead of one getting it all, you’ll both share the $5,000 bonus because you are only doing half the work.” I hoped they would not notice I had said $10,000 before.

Lan and Nga exchanged a look of pure greed, their thoughts on the same page for once. “That’s not enough,” Nga stated, her voice low and determined. “We want the full amount each.”

Lan nodded in agreement. “If we’re fighting together, we want the original offer each.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” I said, stroking my chin thoughtfully. “But you know I like you both and I’m willing to be generous. When you win, you both get $3500 and 1% of the new business.

Lan’s eyes lit up. “I like your style, boss,” she said.

“But we want more,” Nga interjected standing and facing me. Somehow, I managed to keep my eyes away from her cunt where sex juice was oozing as she still absent-mindedly played with her cunt “If we’re both fighting, we want $4,000 each, and 2% of the new business,” she demanded. “And we want to look good doing it.”

Lan, not the brightest thinker, even when compared to Nga’s low baseline took Nga’s cue and added, “Yeah, we need new dresses and stuff. Something that’ll really make us stand out. Or we can buy that but we get 3%.”

I nodded, mentally adding the costs onto what I would charge the North Vietnamese, understanding the importance of appearance in the cutthroat world of corporate sexfighting. However, even with the knowledge I could wrangle and hide the figures from the new business in my favour, the % was still too high. “Fine,” I said, opening the only modern thing in the office, the safe. It was a good safe as neither Lan nor Nga had managed to break in. “$4000 each if you win and I will buy the clothes.” Maybe they wouldn’t notice I would buy their outfits second-hand at charity thrift shops.

Their eyes lit up thinking they had won, and both nodded eagerly. “Thank you, boss,” Lan said, “You’re the best.”.

“Yeah, make us look sexy and sluttish,” Nga said thoughtfully as she sucked cum off her fingers.

“And sophisticated too,” added Lan. Nga, sexy, Lan sophisticated? Mentally I shook my head.

The next day, Lan and Nga happily strutted out of the office, looking like they had just stepped out of a low-class escort agency. I had done my shopping at the charity shops and luckily that sort of clothing didn’t have a fashion timeline or go in and out of fashion. They were both dressed in skintight outfits that left little to the imagination. I had drycleaned both outfits so any semen stains were mostly gone.

For Lan I had chosen a microscopic red dress that hugged every curve of her body like a second skin, her nipples poking out like mountain peaks. For Nga, I had gone with a black thing, I can’t call it a dress, that was more about what it didn’t cover than what it did. Her cunt was barely covered by a scrap of fabric, and her arse cheeks peeked out from under the hem of her skirt and said hello. Their lingerie was from another of my failed money-making plans.

Both were happy. Lan was pirouetting stating she looked like she was on a red carpet at the Oscars while Nga managed to say that she would let me pick her outfits every time and she would have to beat off men. As we drove to Thuyen’s house I thought, ‘Yeah, the porn Oscars and beat off men who had lost their spectacles.’ But somehow, they looked better than the massage parlour women I frequented. And my cock was swelling again.

Thuyen’s mansion loomed before us: something a villain in a Bond movie would live in. It was an architect designed architectural marvel, all sharp angles and gleaming glass, nestled in Melbourne’s most exclusive suburb, Toorak. The gates swung open after I pressed the button and presented my face to the security camera, and we drove up the winding driveway to our destiny.

Inside, Thuyen and her daughter Phoung waited for us. Predictably they were, dressed to kill in outfits that showed up my 2 employees. Luckily, my two employees didn’t see it that way as I overheard Nga whisper, “What losers. They can’t dress like women us,” and Lan’s gloating reply, “Because they’re not real women like us, and they haven’t got the boss to dress them.”

It was a battle of opposites Both Nga and Lan lived in the working-class Western suburbs, but Thuyen and her daughter were from the rich establishment inner-eastern suburbs. Think of your cable TV and “insert your city” Housewives reality show. Women with self-entitlement, attitude and egos bigger than a Negro cock.

Thuyen, at 43, had a body like Cher’s: it turned back time. Her skin was flawless, stretched taut over her muscular frame, a testament to the rigorous training regimen she maintained and her plastic surgeon husband. As an aside, so you don’t think I am a slob, I once managed 8 days straight at the gym before retiring for life satisfied with the result.

Her eyes, almond-shaped and black, pierced me with the cold, calculation of a shark sizing up a seal and deciding on one or two bites. She wore a top that could have been made from the fabric of one of my hankies, only of course cleaner. What there was of it clung to her tightly and the neckline plunged so low that her gravity-defying tits spilled out, the dark areolae standing out starkly against her smooth flesh. Her nipples were hard, jutting out like tiny spears, and the top ended just below her navel. She must have been in a hurry dressing as the top was all she wore leaving her lower half naked. Her cunt was lasered, not shaved, bare and it already glistened with a hint of moisture. A delicate chain of emeralds encircled her waist, drawing the eye to the real treasure between her legs.

Her daughter Phoung, on the other hand, was a vision of monied beauty. At 20, the medical student had the poise and confidence that only came from wealth and a privileged upbringing, though I like to think that I also had it despite my upbringing. Her hair fell in thick, inky waves down her back, and her makeup was like an advertisement in a woman’s magazine. Her outfit was simply something else: a sheer black whisp. Her ample tits were framed by a lattice of lace, her nipples standing proud and dark. Her slit skirt barely grazed the tops of her thighs, emphasising the full length of her legs, which looked like they could wrap around a man and never let go. Her cunt-hair was trimmed into the shape of a butterfly, the edges traced with silver glitter, probably real silver dust, that caught the light and made it seem like she had a living butterfly above her slit.

I had been sucker punched. Thuyen had arranged for about 20 groups of prospective investors to fly in from Vietnam and witness the contest before signing their contracts. They all smelt of wealth and I hadn’t even polished my shoes. I realised they were going to be witnesses to my demise.

But after 50 minutes, Phoung, in front of the audience of investors, was wailing as she nearly came again in the main games room which was the size of a ballroom. She was trapped in the Filipina control position with her legs over Lan’s shoulders lying on her back on the huge bed that had replaced the full-size billiard table. The nude 5ft 4, slim, Vietnamese medical student’s shins were immobilized trapped between Lan’s back and the bed head. Her pussy was therefore spread wide open before Lan’s mouth.

Lan had her cum covered face buried into Phoung’s presented cunt while her fingers had entered Phoung’s cunt from below, found and were pleasuring her G spot. Phoung shuddered: her perfect, pert tits and belly ring shook as Lan, her eyes fixed on the Dragon and some meaningless Chinese character tattooed on Phoung’s belly, dragged another cum from the defenceless Vietnamese. The character was probably misspelled I thought.

That was Phoung’s fourth orgasm and Nga and Lan only needed one more cum to eliminate Phoung from the contest and leave Thuyen alone to take on my two employees. “Lan, Don’t make her cum quick,” Nga screamed. “Give me some more recovery time before we take her mother.”

It was the moment of truth. Would Lan go for personal glory and show off and make Phoung cum quickly as I feared, or would she follow the plan I had given them? Lan hesitated as if deciding to eat or finger Phoung to another cum. To my relief and surprise, she paused for a while then ate the 20-year-old until she moaned and then lifted her head away from her cunt for a minute or so before repeating the treatment.

After about 20 minutes Nga yelled to Lan that she was ready and Lan was like Oliver Twist. She wanted more. She immediately worked two fingers into Phoung’s slit and finger fucked the Medical student while she ate her clit. Phoung came with a huge wail that I am sure the neighbours behind the swimming pool and tennis court heard. Lan screeched her triumph, grabbed Phoung’s head and hosed her pretty face and shuddering, model-like body with piss.

I was surprised at the obscenities that came from Phoung as I didn’t think they spoke like that at Melbourne’s most expensive Catholic all-girl school, Sacre Couer, the school she had attended before university, But then again so did Annie Knight of OnlyFans fame as Anniekate78 who is ‘Australia’s most promiscuous woman’ and slept with 600 men in 2024: a task she painstakingly documented in update videos after hitting her target of 365 in 2023 and who has promised to rail 1000 of whom 500 are virgins this year, so I may be wrong.

19-year-old Nguyet, Thuyen’s other daughter hissed to herself, “Fucking weak. I should be there, but the Vietnamese princess is Mum’s favourite.” She was sitting beside me ostensively to score but more importantly make sure I didn’t cheat. As her mother climbed onto the bed, I looked over her shoulder and saw Phoung lying prostrate on the floor, her belly still heaving. I almost pitied what lay ahead of Phoung when her mother caught up with her later.

Lan tagged with the refreshed Nga who entered the marked contest area to face a fired-up Thuyen. It was now my two accountants against Thuyen, though Nga had cum once. I glanced sideways at Nguyet and immediately noticed the braless swollen puffy nipples and large areola straining against her semi-sheer camisole. I must have looked old and desperate because she noticed my staring and adjusted the strap to cover up as if I was a pervert. However, in the process, she gave me a full view of her lemon-sized tits. On further thought, she probably liked showing off to the plebs, and at home let the pool cleaner/gardener hunk see what he couldn’t touch.