Don't Try To Deny It

"Tina, I..." Melvin stammered, feeling her tight body rubbing against his. The feeling of Tina's pussy was different and pleasurable, tighter and wetter than Violet's but also cooler inside. It was something he wouldn't have ever thought about had the women not exchanged themselves on top of him so rapidly.

Tina's blonde curls bounced around her head, and her young face lit up with a wide, toothy smile. She leaned in much like Violet had and whispered in Melvin's ear while she rode him, her southern accent casting a seductive spell.

"Uncle Mel, them other girls got nothin' on me. We're practically family," she said, and then her tongue lashed out, flicking the Melvin's ear lobe. He shivered, running his hands along her spine. His hair began to feel sticky and wet with sweat, clinging to his forehead in matted clumps.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he closed his eyelids, lost in a whirlwind of moans and panting and sensation. When he opened his eyes again, Tasha Turner had somehow replaced Tina. When had that happened? Melvin felt drugged by the lust that the women held over him. The world had become a dream, a waking exercise into the surreal, Melvin's lovers coming and going like ghosts.

Tasha's brown skin glimmered with beads of sweat, and Melvin lapped at them with his tongue. His hands roamed up and squeezed Tasha's heaving breasts, her lips moving in and closing over his own, her sculpted face radiating her pleasure.

Then she moved her mouth to his ear and said, "You know what you really want is a lifetime supply of brown sugar. Don't try to deny it."

Melvin opened his eyes and his mouth to reply and saw that Tasha was already gone, and Bridget Briswell was riding him now, her sky blue eyes locked on his, her desperate hunger for him apparent in her look.