Chapter-95: the wedding night with the wedding photo shooters
Luther was already undoing his belt, his confident stance radiating pure hunger. "We got every angle. Every… glorious… detail…" He nodded toward Martin's sleeping form on the couch. "Shall we make our own feature presentation?"
Mohini's smile was all the answer they needed. They moved to the couch, and with a strength that belied his lean frame, Zeke easily lifted Martin, carrying him back to the armchair where Markus and Brutus had left him earlier.
Martin's head lolled to the side, his breathing deep and even, a perfect picture of drunken slumber. The moment Martin was settled, Luther was on the bed, his hands, cooler than Markus's, immediately cupping Mohini's melons.
He weighed them in his palms, his thumbs circling her already stiff, dark cherries. "Mmmph… so full..."
"They've been waiting for you…" Mohini purred, arching her back to push her melons more firmly into his hands. "Everyone else was just a warm up." Zeke joined them, his tall frame kneeling between her legs. He didn't rush.
His photographer's eyes scanned her body like a subject he was about to capture, absorbing every detail from her flushed face down to her slick and well used lower mouth. He leaned down, his breath ghosting over her inner thigh.
"The close up is always the best part." His tongue, slick and warm, dragged a slow, torturous line from her entrance up to her clit. Mohini's hips jerked off the bed. "Guh… Zeke..!"
His technique was different precise, almost analytical, finding a rhythm that made her see stars instantly. He lapped at her, his fingers spreading her lips wide as he focused entirely on her swollen clit.
The damp, filthy sounds of his worship were obscenely loud in the quiet room. Slurp. Schlk… While Zeke feasted, Luther continued his worship of her chest. He bent his head, drawing a pebbled cherry deep into his mouth, suckling hard. "Gllrk…"
His other hand kneaded the soft and heavy parts of her other melon, his fingers leaving faint red marks on her skin. The dual assault was overwhelming, a master class in sensation. "Which hole do you want first, gorgeous?"
Luther mumbled against her melon, his voice muffled by her flesh. "Our cameras are ready for their finale."
"My little pink hole…" Mohini gasped, her fingers tangling in Zeke's hair. "It's still stretched and damp for you. Fill it." Luther needed no further encouragement. He positioned himself behind her, his thick, rigid meat rod nudging against her back door.
Zeke shifted, moving to kneel by her head, presenting his own hard length to her lips. Mohini opened her mouth without hesitation, taking him deep and the salty taste of his pre sticky white milk with seeds coating her tongue.
Glrk... As her mouth filled, Luther pushed forward in one smooth, firm stroke, burying his entire length in her ass. The stretch was exquisite, a deep, fulfilling pressure that made her moans around Zeke's meat rod.
"Hnnnng..!" Zeke began to move, a slow, shallow thrust into her mouth, his fingers gently playing with her hair.
"That's it, sweetheart. Such a good Facking mouth..." Luther set a punishing pace from behind, his hips slapping against her generous butt cheeks with sharp, rhythmic smacks. Each drive forward made her entire body shudder, sending jolts of pleasure through her core.
The squelching sounds of her well lubricated little pink hole being taken mixed with the damp sounds from her mouth and the low groans of the men. Slosh. Splurtch... Grunt. "Look at that," Zeke groaned, his voice tight.
He was watching Luther's meat rod disappear into her body, his eyes wide with voyeuristic ecstasy. "The way you take him… Fack… your melons are jiggling so perfectly." The room became a symphony of their joining.
The creak of the bedsprings, the slick slap of skin on skin, the guttural moans and breathless curses of Mohini, Zeke and Luther continued. Mohini was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, a willing, eager participant in her own exquisite cheating.
She felt Luther's rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts becoming erratic. "I'm gonna… gonna fill that little pink hole up," he grunted, his fingers digging into her hips. His climax hit him, a series of deep, grinding thrusts as he emptied himself inside her with a guttural cry. Splurt… Gurgle.
The hot flood was her undoing. The sensation triggered her climax, a silent, shaking convulsion that squeezed around him, milking him dry. As Luther pulled out, spent, Zeke quickly took his place.
He flipped Mohini onto her back, her melons bouncing with the movement. He plunged into her dripping lower mouth without preamble, the fit exquisitely tight. He Facked her with a focused intensity, his eyes locked on her face, watching every flicker of pleasure.
"You're a Facking masterpiece," he breathed, driving into her. "This lower mouth… it is perfection." His climax built quickly, spurred by the sight of her well used body and the sounds of their frantic coupling.
With a final, deep thrust, he came, painting her inner walls with his release. Spurt. Schlorp... He collapsed beside her, breathing ragged. They lay there for a moment in a heap of sweat slicked limbs.
Then, with the practiced ease of professionals, they rose. They cleaned her meticulously with a damp cloth from the bathroom, erasing any evidence of their presence.
They moved Martin once more, arranging him back in the bed beside her, placing his arm across her stomach, mimicking a post coital cuddle. The scene was set perfectly once again. Zeke picked up his camera, snapping one last, clandestine photo of the "sleeping" newlyweds.
He winked at Mohini. "The wedding album is going to be unforgettable." They slipped out as silently as they had entered, leaving Mohini in the quiet dark. The first hints of dawn were just beginning to lighten the edges of the curtains when Martin stirred beside her.
He turned, his eyes fluttering open, a look of innocent, loving confusion on his handsome face. He smiled softly at her. "Good morning, my beautiful wife," he whispered, his voice husky with sleep.
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