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Get way up there. Use that tongue. Deeper!!! Bitch!!!!!" yelled Crystal. Candy neck was straight back as Crystal look like she was sitting on her Sister face. I looked down at my wet cock. Then back at them. Candy was gripping Crystal butt cheeks. Forcing them wide open.Finally Crystal got off Candy face. She strutted over and fell face first onto the couch. She arched her huge ass back toward my cock. "Candy get over here. Spit on Buck's big cock. Then guided him into my ass. Be a good little bitch for me. Move it." said Crystal. Candy spit on my cock. Then she guided the tip of my cock into our Sister big ass. I put my hands on her big ass cheeks. Spreading them apart. The tip of my cock entered her small hole. Her ass quickly expanded as Candy forced more of my cock into Crystal ass hole. I grunted as her ass took more of my cock. I started to pound her ass, harder and faster. Crystal moaned and groaned.I watched Candy walk around and start to kiss Crystal on the couch. Both girls. The way things turned out, I never got the chance to confront Shandi, but I met someone spectacular instead! While I was still fuming and ruminating on my planned revenge, a waitress brought me over a small white envelope with a note inside. The note read: "Important you see me back stage. Dressing Room 104. Knock before entering. Yours truly, DeDe Diamonds (the third girl to your left in the kick line)." The act onstage was a kind of parody of the "Rockettes," with a little Busby Berkley thrown in, and the third "girl" from my left was a pretty, Jane-Russell lookalike I'd noticed earlier in the lingerie and swimsuit routines. She smiled and winked at me when she passed, giggling her very curvaceous ass in my direction. I couldn't help the erection that was starting to strain against my shorts. That "shemale" had a full, sensuous body and long, luscious legs. I was starting to feel less nervous about the whole "transexual" business. As the hostess had suggested,.
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I looked at her, and she must have been smiling because of the look on my face. I said, “I didn’t put it in there,” and she shrugged that shrug again.“You must have.” She moved closer, shuffling her stool nearer to mine so our knees touched. “Can you imagine where else I could have put it last week?” Her voice was low, quiet, barely a whisper. “My hand so tantalisingly close to you, I could sense how wet you were. Like you are now. Give it to me.” For a moment I had no idea what she was talking about, then pulled the small square of silk out of my bag and gave it to her. “Tell me if you want it back later.”She had, she told me, learned her trade from her Grandmother. Her mother had been the third daughter of that marriage and Clemency, coincidentally, was the third of her own Mother’s. “They say the art passes to the third daughter of the third daughter.” She laughed. “My Grandmother was truly gifted. She worked in the theatre but that has never appealed to me, I like to be close to.

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