The portable disco light machine had struck me as tacky when he had pulled it out of his sex toy bag, but now, watching the multicolored lights intermittently reflect off the smudges of lip gloss on a nipple that belonged to the woman riding me while she deeply kissed the woman wearing the lip gloss, it seemed entirely correct. I watched the tangle of flesh above me for a moment longer and shifted my voyeurism to the bed parallel to ours. The disco lights were raining down on a tall, handsome man pounding a lithe woman in down-dog position whose face was buried between the legs of a buxom women doing her best in between very loud moans to blow the man straddling her. My gaze was interrupted by a finger in my mouth.
© 2024 Quinn Larrabee
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