Then she felt an entry into her p***y from the man holding her hair and he seemed determined to meet his brother’s c**k somewhere around Sappho’s mid-section as both brothers pressed home their advantage. When they started to rock, to-and-fro, Sappho knew she was being used like a rag doll and that there was more, and probably much more, to come.
When it came it arrived in jets that shot into her womb and into her gullet: she could feel the warm fluid squirming along her channels and snaking its way towards an imaginary puddle lying somewhere in the midsection of her skewered body. She was also aware of the vivid sensations of being alternately compressed and stretched as the black brothers pursued their s****l sojourn on the beautiful white woman they were squeezing between them.
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