Natasha is a tall, shapely woman with an athletic body from her countless orgasmic lays. She has a wolfishly hungry smile almost glued to her face, long black hair framing it. She has a bust that sticks out firmly from her chest, cupped in a black bodice that’s laced together under her cleavage. Similar leather makes a thong-bottomed lower half of the costume, spaghetti-thin at her crotch and ass crack, and black knee-highs finish the deal.
Maggie has one of the biggest busts you’ve ever seen. The breasts wobble with the slightest breeze, stuffed with milk once meant for her babies and now for her victims. M.I.L.F. has short red curls, something like a milk-maid’s dress hanging around her soft, voluptuous frame. The word is she had her share of brawls in her younger days, so you know she’s nothing to ever underestimate because there’s a lot of muscle and grit beneath those curves.
“Ye’re a biggun, aintcha?” Maggie compliments you as she looks you up and down. “Gonna have a helluva time ridin’ you out.”
“I call the little one,” Natasha grins at Paul. “He looks like he won’t last long.”
You raise an eyebrow to Paul. You know you’re both worth your salt, but so are the girls. It’ll be a hard fight either way. |