Arturo Mondragon had indeed impressed the baroness. They soon had a duchess in tow as they strolled through the garden.

Constance saw from the side the size of his hard on.

He had taken the two titled mills to tangle in seclusion among the rows of roses bushes. But Constance’s view became unobstructed as she passed onto the patio.

Constance listened as Arturo said, “Blow”

“That’s right,” Constance heard the baroness whisper. “You learn English well.

Now see if you can say the word job.”

“Job.”

“Okay. This is a blowjob.”

“Angh.”

The lips of the baroness spoke, full of thick cock. “Duchess, are you hot?”

“Naturally. Am I watching?”

“You can put yourself to good use.”

“Of course. While your mouth is full, I shall continue our lesson. Arturo, you know what it means to go down? To suck?”

Constance saw Arturo stab the baroness in the neck with his twanger. His uncovered buttocks stuck out in back.

Then jacked forward.

Thorns stuck into his tightened gluteal muscles. Rosepetals caught in his moist pud.

The baroness sucked on, sloughing the top of her gown down over her arms.

Pressing her molten breasts to Arturo’s knees. Giving his halls a sensitive squeeze.

The duchess raised the hem of her dress. Her cut winked like a rosebud.

Cuntlips curled outward.

Beckoning.

Yearning.

Burning.

The duchess’s hips began to churn. She kissed along the cheeks of Arturo’s face with the pliant lips of her labia.

Mouthlips slobbered slobbering cuntlips.

Arturo’s hands crawled up the backside of the duchess’s haunch.

Fingers launched into the space between the halved melons of her ass.