Page 79 of Vegas Daddies

I position myself between her legs and insert my dick.

She screams just as hard, the plug just as pink as her tight, wet pussy. She shakes her ass so I slap it, my dick enlarging inside of her even more as I watch both of her cheeks recoil.

From an innocent-eyed girl who had a total body count of one, I wouldn’t expect this sort of behavior. Women sometimes shy away whenever the three of us hit the Vegas strip. As soon as we mention the “package deal,” we get a lot of backtracking and declining and sometimes a judgmental “No thank you.”

Sometimes it’s nice to sit back and admire. Being with Alice has made me appreciate her body more. It makes my dick twitch, seeing her body squirm and her pussy petals flower open. It’s a tease and it pains my balls so fucking much, but when it finally comes time to bury my dick inside of her, the wait is worth it.

I just can’t wait for the day when she can take all three of us at once.

“OH MY GOD!” she screams, clutching onto Match like her life depends on it.

My vision goes hazy when I feel her pussy walls tighten around my dick. Then they start to contort. Pulsate.

I swirl back her hair into a makeshift ponytail. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

Match scoots over to her ass. “How does the plug feel, sweetness?”

“It makes it feel even better.”

“Good.” I continue stroking her hair.

Match spanks both of her cheeks.

Then he’s dipping a finger into where we’re joined to fondle her clit.

“AH!” Alice screams.

After rinsing off, Brander runs to her aid, grabbing her breasts and pinching her nipples. “You’re such a good girl. Come for us, darling. Let yourself go. We’ve got you.”

Her walls continue to pulsate as I drive my cock deeper into her dripping wet pussy.

The corners of my vision go black.

The high-pitched singsong cry that exits her mouth does it for me.

I slam into her one more time and release.

“Doctor Miller?”

A face filters back into vision. Nurse Shelly.

Why is it her and not Alice?

The money I’d pay to be back in that shower again…

“Sorry.” I wipe my wrist over my forehead. “What were you saying?”

“An acute patient was asking for you.” She presses a folder into my chest and takes off down the hallway.

No lingering stares this time?

Her pissed-off attitude probably has something to do with me being on my phone the entire shift. I’ve been shooting messages to Alice all day, and Shelly has been at my shoulder trying to read each one. Apparently, Alice can “take care of herself,” because “she’s a big girl.”

I wedge the folder under my arm and head over to acute.

When I see the patient, the folder falls to the floor and I stop in my tracks.

It’s one of the Russians from yesterday.

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