First the sisters, then their mother

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She said to me in English. “You hurt me deeply, Nick. Now I’m gonna pay you back.” And with that she pulled his impressive cock free of his fly and took the wineglass from his hand, setting it on a side table. Within seconds she’d rolled back his foreskin and wrapped her lovely pink lips around his hardening member, establishing a slow, easy rhythm as she gradually consumed more and more of him. Jean-Pierre submitted easily to the wet confines of Lindy’s heated mouth, raising his face skyward and issuing a deep whine as the girl sped her movements. Soon one of her hands was twisting around his shaft in a corkscrew motion, masturbating his full length while, alternately, she took him past her epiglottis and into her throat. I looked at her other hand, and it was busy between her creamy thighs, diddling herself with ever-more-rapid movements.

Content with my voyeuristic role, I smoked more hash and sipped wine…enough so that I was truly blitzed by the time Lindy unbuckled Jean-Pierre’s pants and they’d fallen to the floor. In seconds she’d stripped herself naked and pushed the man into a seated position in the chair in which he’d been sitting. She’d lost a good bit of her Summer tan, and now looked completely ivory…delectable as ever. As she straddled his legs and reached between her thighs to seat his black cudgel at the entrance to her pink, rose-like pussy, she looked over her shoulder at me as if to check on the state of what she hoped would be my suffering.

I just grinned and said, “You’re beautiful!” no doubt causing her some degree of angry confusion. After all, my response was supposed to be that of a jealous lover.

“Wrong thing to say, Nicky. Watch this!” she challenged, as she slid slowly down Jean-Pierre’s pole, gasping while taking all of him. “Ohh-o-o-o, Gawd,” she moaned as her hips began a rapidly-accelerating tattoo against the crotch of her African instructor. She grabbed the back of the chair on either side of his head for leverage, prompting him to try and kiss her, but she turned her head aside, muttering, “Non!” apparently intent only on fucking him. Then she turned her attention again to me. “See how I’m lovin’ that big black dick, Nicky. You could be havin’ me just like that – right now – if you’d left my mom alone!”

I was ripped to the eyes on hashish by this time, and was enjoying Lindy’s show, with my own cock uncomfortably stiff down one of my pant legs. Not only was she taking full strokes on and off Jean-Pierre, but she was also twirling her hips in a flat circle that must have driven him crazy, as her inner labia stretched out to grasp at his shiny cock, coated now with her thick, creamy, vaginal residue. Once again I muttered, “You’re beautiful!” causing her to fuck him even harder.

“No, goddammit!” she yelled, her hips a blur she was screwing so fast, then she whined, “Shit! I can’t cum! Jean-Pierre, levez!” she cried, and climbed off of him. He stood and she plopped her splayed knees onto the chair’s cushion and grabbed its back, wordlessly begging him to drill her like a dog. He quickly shed his shirt, kicked off his sandals, stepped out of his trousers, and palmed Lindy’s gorgeous white ass in his large black hands. Pulling back his foreskin to reveal his meaty, mahogany-colored glans, he sank his rod fully into her pink gash as he issued a weird, low-pitched exhalation that reminded me of an elephant snorting after a satisfying dust bath. Lindy, herself, gave vent to the cunt-busting plunge as she wailed, “Oh, Jeezus, yessss!” before resuming their carnal rhythm.

In my position on Lindy’s sofa, at this point I was seated directly across from them in my drug-induced stupor. My view was that of a thin, very dark-brown man, nearly my height of over six feet, goring a white girl with an ample prick that would be the envy of most Western Europeans. The contrast of their skins was enchanting, as was the sheer anthropological strangeness of their

coupling, and deep within my consciousness I heard a yes, as if in the future this was the way mating should be. I was drugged, of course, and such idealistic dreams were not part of Lindy’s purview. Snapping out of my reverie, I mumbled, “Is it good, Lindy?”

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