Cherie DeVille

Southern California’s crawling with backroom craps joints, and Mr. Kelly runs most of them. Best odds in the house sit on that felt—yet tonight the shooters can’t miss. Cherie DeVille’s slinging dice for Kelly, chips fly, and suddenly her tray’s bare. She reaches for the phone, tells the table a money drop’s coming in a couple days. Our guys aren’t waiting. They shove her to her knees right there on the sticky floor, cocks already out. One rams his dick down her throat while another yanks her thong aside and slams into her wet cunt, pounding like they own the payout. Cherie gags, drools, takes every thrust, and the boys just keep switching holes, using mouth and pussy like interest on a debt they’re collecting twice. By the time Kelly walks in with the cashbox, Cherie’s face is glazed and her cunt’s leaking down her thighs—payment in full, in advance.