Creampie Sisters

Trinity St. Clair stares at the mirror and knows she comes up short next to Megan Rain. Megan swipes her clothes and they fit tighter, look sexier, cling the right way. She also steals boyfriends without a thought, gets them hard just by smiling. Even in her own room, finger sliding over slick folds while moans spill from her laptop, Trinity can’t catch a break. Megan slams the door open in her cheer skirt, says, "Race me—who finishes first wins." Trinity’s already wet, but Megan’s hips jerk and spasm sooner, sharper, and her wicked grin says the night’s only starting. "Pizza guy," she decides, stretching the word like taffy. "Whoever gets his load wins." Xander rings the bell two minutes later, sees two half-naked girls and smells the trouble coming off them like perfume. Bras unhooked, panties barely there, they drop to their knees for a messy duel—lips stretched, spit strings, warm tongues fighting for shaft space. Megan’s already fucking back when he finally sinks inside her; Trinity gets him next, soaking every inch, but the clock keeps ticking on every thrust. The minute the first thick spurt paints Megan’s cunt, the contest is finished, leaving Trinity glistening, jealous, and dripping onto the sheets while Xander groans like he might do it all over again.