French Redhead Squirts All Over The Bed

The plaid skirt was too short, the black top tight against my skin, my red hair falling around my face as I waited on the white sheets. I wore it with nothing underneath, the outfit a costume that felt silly until I heard the knock. When I opened the door to find both of them there—two shadows filling my doorway, smelling of outside air—I moved back and let them in without speaking.<br><br>They entered quiet, four hands immediately on me, mouths on my throat and collarbone. I gasped when fingers pushed under my plaid skirt, rough and urgent, finding how wet I was. Embarrassingly so. They knew. The black top was pulled up, the skirt shoved aside, my hair tangled in their fingers as they pushed me onto the mattress.<br><br>I ended up on my stomach, face down in the pillow, ass up while one drove into me from behind. The other offered himself to my mouth, and I took him because I wanted to be full everywhere. They used me like that, passing me back and forth, my schoolgirl outfit torn and

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