Lolly Dames

Lolly's blood ran hot the second she caught her husband sticking his dick in some floozy. Time to turn the tables. Her girlfriends whispered about a hole-in-the-wall gloryhole downtown, no names, no strings, just bare cock for the taking. She slid into the sheer anniversary lingerie she’d bought for him—tiny lace, easy access—and strutted straight to where the dicks waited anonymous and hard. Dress flipped up over her ass, she hit the floor and swallowed the first thick one greedily. Spit dripped, throat worked, eyes watered, and she used every filthy angle she could reach through that wall. When her pussy started dripping, she ripped her panties aside, shoved the fat head straight in, and bounced until the stall shook. Vibrator buzzing her clit while she hammered back against the mystery cock pushed her over the edge—once, twice, soaking herself down her own thighs. Then the begging started. Lolly panted loud enough to echo: “Fill me up. I want every drop to drip out at home.” The cock swelled, pulsed, and unloaded so deep it spilled back out in creamy strings she scooped onto two fingers. She licked them clean, pulled her dress down, and walked out already thinking of the dirty treat she’d serve warm for her cheating husband tonight.