How to Get Stronger Legs

Lydia lets her eyes crawl up Dillon's legs, thick with muscle. "How the hell do you get them like that?" she blurts. Mason and Dillon swap grins. "Simple," they tell her. "Fuck. A lot." She wants proof, not lectures. They don't make her wait. Mason pulls her top over her head, and Dillon's jeans hit the floor with a smack. He steps out of them and palms the bulge straining his shorts. The shorts follow. Mason grabs her waist, turning her so she can watch Dillon's thick cock bounce free. Her eyes drop. "Jesus." He chuckles once, low and dark, then tilts her chin up. "Close your mouth for now, open it later." Mason kneels behind her, yanking her jeans and panties down in one tug. Cool air hits wet skin. Dillon drags his fingers through her folds, finds her slick, and spreads it up over her clit. She jerks. Mason presses two fingers inside her fast and hard, testing the give. She clenches, swearing under her breath. Dillon strokes himself once, twice, then pushes the blunt head against her lips. She opens. He slides deep in one slow thrust. Mason matches pace behind her, working her open with his fingers until she's riding them, desperate. He swaps his hand for his own cock, pressing in without asking. Lydia keens around Dillon's length, spit dripping down her chin. They work her in tandem—one hard thrust after another—until the slap of skin drowns out every broken sound she makes. Sweat slides between her shoulder blades. She takes every inch. Mason fists her hair, makes her look at Dillon while both men push her over the edge again and again.