The concrete stairwell echoed with our clumsy footsteps. Aliya’s ripe ass pushed the front of her leggings, the seam wedged against her slit. Milana giggled, her hand already under my shirt, pinching a nipple. Polina locked the door below, her breasts spilling out.

“First one here’s the pussy,” Milana slurred into my neck. Her tongue was wet when she pushed me against the rail. Aliya slid her hand up Milana’s thigh, rubbing. I squeezed Aliya’s tits through her bra, feeling her areola get rigid.

Peel my jeans. Milana’s fingers swiped along my bulge. Polina arrived, moist-eyed, sliding her hand over Milana’s curve to find my prick. “We’ll take turns, baby,” Polina rasped, kneeling. She spread my legs, lips parting as she bobbed like a river sheen.

Milana stilled behind me, pressing her clit against, grinding. I felt her slickness pool against my cheek. Sloppy sounds—my shaft thick from Polina’s sucking, her spit glazing my tip.

Aliya yanked down Milana’s panties. A gust of warm pussy-soaked air. She dove with what sounded like a groan. Slurping and smacking. Milana’s hips bucked. She cried as Polina released me, turned, perched her legs on the railing.

“Your turn, doll.” Aliya’s voice was husky. She twisted, pulling me by my knot. My tongue plunged into Polina’s wet, swe