Chest still heaving. Muscles slick with sweat. His c**k resting heavy against his thigh—thick, glistening, pulsing, the kind of c**k that made all five girls keep glancing at it between moans like it was the sun and they were just trying to survive under its heat.
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t stroke it.
Didn’t even flinch.
Because this was his show now.
“Keep f*****g yourselves,” he commanded, voice low and coarse like gravel and fire. “Don’t look at me unless your fingers are buried in your p***y. Let your fingers go f*****g deeper!!
And they obeyed.
Every single one of them.
Gloria was spread eagle on her back, two fingers inside her, her other hand pinching her own n****e so hard it was purple. Her thighs were slick, her moans deep and dirty, like she was inhaling the memory of R
