“Yes. Yes. Yesss.”

The pussy peeled open across the slash of Arturo’s mouth.

His tongue rummaged within the labyrinthine folds of her labia.

And his phalanges pinched the wrinkle of her anus with manicured nails.

Tiny finger dipped in to the cuticle.

The duchess’s butt hustled.

Constance saw the woman shudder. The duchess uttered unintelligible sounds of rut.

“Ululululu.”

Orgasm swelled over the duchess’s flesh. Arturo’s mouth and fingers did the rest.

And the hips of that Spanish-speaking caballero continued their thrust.

Cockhead held tightly in the baroness’s yap. Balls bandying about her neck.

Arturo bent his knees.

Shifted his angle.

“Aiiiii!”

The baroness seemed to be strangled.

She gagged, clutching her throat.

Her cheeks bloated out. Then burst open.

Globules of jissom rolled over her chin.

Her stammering jaw dropped in awe.

Pullulating penis flipped from her maw.

She seized the penis with her paw.

Curds of the sweet milky goo glued her jacking hand to Arturo’s stick.

The duchess hunkered down and gave a lick.

The last pulses of jizz fizzed on the faces of the suctioning baroness and duchess.

“My,” Constance said to herself. “They’ve certainly got him in their clutches.”

She turned her head away.

Numbly strummed her fingers along the length of her strand of beads.

Scooped up a flute full of champagne from a passing tray. Walked back within the ballroom to observe the deeds of her other swain.

Sir Lance Fondulac was giving a whack to Veronica’s back crack with a riding crop. His cock was in his hand as he laid on another layer of roseate patches to Veronica’s blushing hide.

From her vantage, Constance was at first unaware of the coiled patch of hair intermingling with Veronica’s snapdragon snatch.

But as Veronica’s sap began to flow faster, Lance flagged his wanger to the point of disaster. He kicked her in the ass with his riding boot. Spurred her cheeks as he shot off.