The cabana curtain rustled as Darius held it open, the fabric brushing against her bare shoulder. Leah stepped inside and the air hit her—thick with chlorine and sunscreen, the faint musk of male bodies already settled into the space. The sun filtered through the canvas in amber strips, striping the tile floor and the lounger where three men sat waiting.
Terrence was closest, sprawled on the edge of the lounger with that easy grin, his dark eyes tracking her from the moment she appeared. He wore board shorts and nothing else, his chest bare and brown, muscles loose and ready. Beside him, DeShawn leaned back with a bottle of water in his hand, legs spread wide, watching her with the calm patience of a man who knew his turn would come. And in the center of the lounger, Malik sat with his elbows on his knees, his hooded eyes already on her, already calculating.
No one spoke. The silence was a pressure of its own, pushing against her skin.
The curtain fell closed behind her, and the world outside—the pool, the bar, Travis on his stool—ceased to exist. There was only this cabana now. These four men. The tile cool beneath her bare feet. The absence of anything between her legs.
Darius's hand found the back of her neck before she could take another step. His grip was warm, firm, settling into the space between her spine and her skull like it belonged there. He didn't push. He just held, a quiet claim, and she felt her body respond before her mind caught up—a softening at her knees, a tilt of her head, the surrender that lived under her skin now, waiting for permission.
"You remember everyone," Darius said. Not a question.
She nodded, as much as his grip allowed. "I remember."
"Good." His thumb pressed into the muscle at the base of her skull, and she felt the tension in her shoulders begin to unspool. "We talked about this morning. How today would go."
She swallowed. "Yes."
"Tell me what you want, Leah." His voice was low against her ear, intimate, meant only for her. "Not what Travis wants. Not what I want. What do you want?"
Her breath caught. The question landed like a stone in still water, rippling through the quiet of the cabana. She felt the weight of three pairs of eyes on her, waiting, and beneath that weight, something stirred—a hunger she'd only begun to name.
"I want to be used," she said. The words came out steady, clearer than she expected. "I want to be what you need. All of you."
Darius's grip tightened, just a fraction. "Good girl."
He steered her forward, his hand a guide and a threat, and she let herself be moved. Her knees found the tile before she'd registered the decision, the cold bite of the floor against her skin pulling a sharp breath from her lungs. She knelt at the foot of the lounger, the three men arrayed before her like a tribunal, and felt the weight of her position settle into her bones.
The tile was rough beneath her knees. The fabric of her sundress pooled around her thighs, the hem riding up, exposing the pale skin above her knees. She didn't fix it. She kept her hands loose in her lap and her eyes lowered, waiting.
Darius stepped around her, his footsteps soft against the tile, and settled onto the lounger beside Malik. The shift in the cushions sent a ripple through the group, a collective leaning forward, and Leah felt the heat of their attention like a physical force—warm, hungry, focused entirely on her.
"You wanted to taste them last night," Darius said, his voice carrying through the cabana. "But there wasn't time. You had other things to learn."
She remembered. The memory flickered through her—Malik's hand on her chest, commanding her stillness. The weight of Terrence's mouth between her legs. The way she'd come apart under their hands, their voices, their control.
"Now you get to taste them," Darius continued, "one at a time." A pause. "Start with Terrence. He's been patient."
Terrence shifted on the lounger, his grin widening as he swung his legs off the edge, planting his feet on the tile on either side of her knees. His hand moved to his belt, working the buckle loose with practiced ease, and Leah watched his fingers—broad, dark against the silver buckle—and felt her mouth go dry.
Darius's hand found her neck again, his fingers curling into her hair, gripping at the roots. The pressure was a reminder, an anchor, pulling her attention back to him.
"You take direction from me," he said, his voice low, the words brushing against her ear. "You look at me when I'm speaking. You don't move until I say. You don't speak unless I ask. Do you understand?"
She nodded, the motion pulling against his grip. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Darius."
"Good." His grip softened, his thumb stroking the curve of her skull. "Now show Terrence your mouth."
Leah turned her head, her hair sliding through Darius's fingers, and faced Terrence. He'd freed his cock from his board shorts, already hard, the dark head glistening in the amber light of the cabana. He stroked himself once, slow, a show of what was coming, and his grin softened into something hungrier.
"Come here, pretty girl," he said.
She crawled forward, her knees scraping against the tile, and settled between his spread legs. The heat of him reached her before she touched him—the warmth of his skin, the salt-sweat smell of him, the sheer physical presence of a man waiting to be taken into her mouth.
She looked up at him, her hands resting on his thighs, and let him see the want in her eyes.
"You're gonna make me wait?" he asked, but his voice was rough, the joke thin over the need.
She leaned in and took him into her mouth.
The weight of him on her tongue was familiar and new—the same salt, the same heat, but different, belonging to a different man with a different rhythm. She let her lips close around him, let her tongue trace the length of him, and heard his breath hiss through his teeth.
"Fuck," he muttered. "Yeah. Just like that."
Darius's hand was still in her hair, not directing, just present, a wire connecting her to his control. She felt him watching, felt Malik and DeShawn watching, felt the weight of their attention settle into her skin like a second layer.
She took Terrence deeper, her throat working around him, and felt his hand come up to cradle the back of her head. He didn't push—not yet—but the pressure was there, a promise waiting to be kept.
"Look at her," DeShawn said, his voice low and appreciative. "She's a natural."
"She's well-trained," Malik corrected, and the word landed like a stroke, sending heat pooling low in her belly.
She pulled back, her lips dragging wet and slow along his shaft, and looked up at Malik. "I learned from the best," she said.
Malik's lips curved, a shadow of a smile. "Keep going. I'll decide when you're ready to speak."
She dropped her gaze and took Terrence back into her mouth, deeper this time, letting him feel her throat relax around him. His hand tightened in her hair, and she felt a low groan vibrate through his thighs.
"Shit," he breathed. "She's good at this."
"She had practice last night," Darius said, his voice dry. "Lots of practice."
Leah felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she didn't stop. She worked him with her tongue, with her lips, with the rhythm she'd learned across too many men to count, and felt him growing harder, thicker, closer.
Terrence's hips rocked forward, a small, involuntary push, and she felt the head of his cock press against the back of her throat. She didn't gag. She opened. She took him.
"Look at that," DeShawn said. "She's not even choking."
"She's learning," Malik said, and there was approval in his voice, the kind that made her want to earn more.
Darius's grip tightened in her hair, pulling her off Terrence with a wet sound, a string of spit connecting her lips to his cock. She gasped, her mouth empty, her breath ragged, and looked up at him.
"Not yet," Darius said, his voice calm. "You don't get to make him come yet. Not until I say."
She nodded, her lips slick, her chest heaving. "Yes, Darius."
"Good girl." His hand smoothed down her hair, a pet, a reward. "DeShawn's been patient too. Show him the same respect."
DeShawn was already shifting forward, his cock hard and waiting, and Leah turned to him without hesitation. He was thicker than Terrence, a little longer, and the first taste of him was salt and skin and the faint bitterness of pre-cum. She closed her eyes and let herself feel, let her mouth learn him, let her hands find his thighs and grip as she took him deep.
He groaned, a low sound that vibrated through the quiet. "Yeah. That's right. Use that pretty mouth."
She hollowed her cheeks and pulled back, slow, letting him feel every inch of the slide, and heard his breath catch.
"She's making a competition of it," Terrence said, his voice thick with want. "Trying to see who she can make come first."
"Let her try," Malik said. "She'll learn the same lesson she learned last night. We control when she gets what she wants."
Leah's thighs pressed together beneath the sundress, the ache between them sharp and insistent. She wanted to touch herself. She wanted to feel a hand—any hand—between her legs. But she didn't move. She kept her hands on DeShawn's thighs, her mouth working his cock, her mind focused on the rhythm she'd been told to hold.
DeShawn's hand found her hair, not gripping, just resting, and she felt the weight of his want in the tremor of his fingers. He was close. She could taste it in the change of his pulse, the way his hips began to rock against her mouth.
"Enough," Darius said.
She pulled off immediately, her mouth leaving DeShawn with a wet pop, a line of spit connecting his cock to her lower lip. DeShawn's hand tightened in her hair, a protest he didn't voice, and she watched his chest rise and fall with the effort of holding back.
"On your knees," Darius said. "Face me."
She turned, the tile biting into her knees, and faced the lounger where Darius sat between Malik and the empty space where Terrence had been. Malik was watching her with those hooded eyes, his hands clasped loose in his lap, and she could see the outline of his erection through his shorts, a promise waiting to be kept.
Darius leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes holding hers. "You did good last night, Leah. Better than good. You took more than most women could, and you came back for more."
She didn't speak. She waited.
"But last night was Travis's show. Tonight is mine." He reached out, his fingers finding her chin, tilting her face up. "You belong to me in this cabana. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Darius."
"And when we're done here, you belong to Malik. And Terrence. And DeShawn. And then maybe I'll take you again myself. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Darius."
"Good." His thumb brushed across her lower lip, smearing the spit there. "Now crawl to Malik. Show him what you learned."
She moved on her hands and knees across the tile, the rough surface scraping her palms, her sundress riding up her thighs. Malik watched her approach, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes tracking her like a man watching prey that had already been caught.
She settled between his knees and looked up at him, waiting.
"You've had a lot to learn," Malik said, his voice low and measured. "But you're a fast learner. I'll give you that."
"Thank you."
His hand came up, cupping her jaw, his thumb pressing against the corner of her mouth. "Open."
She opened, and he slid his thumb inside, pressing down on her tongue, feeling the wet heat of her mouth. She held still, her eyes on his, and let him explore, let him take what he wanted from the simple act of her submission.
"Good," he said, pulling his thumb free, a trail of spit stretching and breaking. "Now show me your throat."
She tilted her head back, baring the vulnerable column of her neck, and heard the rustle of fabric as Malik freed his cock. She didn't look. She kept her eyes on the canvas ceiling, on the amber light filtering through, on the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.
His hand found her hair, gripping at the roots, and he guided her forward with a pressure that was undeniable. She opened her mouth and took him, let him slide deep, let him fill her throat until she felt the stretch, the pressure, the need to breathe.
"Breathe through your nose," he said, calm, patient. "You can take it."
She did. She focused on the rhythm—inhale through her nose, relax her throat, let him move—and felt the world narrow to the sensation of his cock in her mouth, the grip of his hand in her hair, the weight of his presence above her.
"She's going to come before anyone fucks her," Terrence said, a laugh in his voice. "Look at her. She's dripping."
"She'll wait," Malik said. "Won't you, Leah?"
She couldn't answer. She hummed around his cock, a vibration that made him groan, and felt his hips twitch in response.
"That's her answer," DeShawn said. "She'll wait."
Malik held her there, deep in his throat, for a long moment. The pressure built—the need to breathe, the ache in her knees, the heat pooling between her thighs—and then he pulled out, slow, letting her feel every inch of the slide.
She gasped, sucking air, her lips slick and swollen. Her hands gripped her own thighs, nails digging into the fabric of her sundress, as she fought the urge to touch herself.
"Not yet," Malik said, reading her thought. "You don't come until we're inside you."
She nodded, her breath ragged. "Yes, Malik."
"Good girl." He leaned back, his cock still hard, still glistening. "Now stand up. Take off the dress."
She rose on unsteady legs, her knees protesting the change in angle, and reached for the hem of her sundress. The fabric lifted over her head, catching on her hair for a moment before falling away, and she stood naked before them, the air cool against her heated skin.
Four pairs of eyes traveled over her body—her breasts, her waist, the soft curve of her hips, the dark triangle between her legs where she knew they could see how wet she was. She didn't cover herself. She let them look, let them take their fill, and felt the hunger in their gazes like a caress.
"Beautiful," Terrence said, the word simple and honest.
"Come here," Darius said, his voice rough. "I want you on my cock."
She moved to Darius on unsteady legs, her thighs slick with her own wetness, the air cool against her naked skin. He reached for her before she could kneel, his hands finding her hips, pulling her forward until her knees hit the lounger on either side of him. The canvas dipped beneath their combined weight, and she felt his cock against her stomach—hard, ready, the heat of him a promise against her skin.
"Look at them," Darius said, his voice low, his hands guiding her hips. "Look at them watch you."
She turned her head. Malik was leaning back, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slow and lazy. Terrence had his legs spread wide, his eyes fixed on where her body met Darius's, his hand working himself in a steady, hungry rhythm. DeShawn had moved closer, standing now, his cock jutting out from his body, his gaze traveling over her curves like he was memorizing them.
She felt the weight of their attention settle into her skin, and she arched her back, offering herself to the room. Her fingers found Darius's shoulders, gripping as she positioned herself over him, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.
"That's it," Darius breathed. "Show them how much you want it."
She sank down. The stretch was perfect—a slow, slick, overwhelming fullness that pulled a moan from her throat. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and she felt herself open for him, felt her body accept him inch by inch until he was seated deep inside her.
She was full. She was home.
"Fuck," Terrence muttered. "Look at that. She's dripping around him."
Leah opened her eyes and began to move. She rose on her knees, letting him almost slip out, then sank back down, a long, slow, deliberate slide that made her breath catch. Her hands moved from Darius's shoulders to her own breasts, cupping them, offering them to the room.
"You like watching?" she asked, her voice rough, the question aimed at all of them.
"We love watching," Malik said, his voice flat, but his eyes burned. "Keep going."
She rode him faster, her hips finding a rhythm that made the canvas creak beneath them. The sounds of her body—skin slapping skin, the wet slide of his cock inside her—filled the cabana, and she let them fill her, let the sounds be the only thing she heard. She arched her back, her hair falling over her shoulders, and looked at DeShawn, at Terrence, at Malik, each in turn, making sure they saw her face, saw the pleasure twisting through her features.
"You're putting on a show," Darius said, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her pace. "That's it. Let them see what a good whore looks like."
The word landed like a caress, and she felt her thighs tighten around him, felt her body clench in response. "Yes," she breathed. "I'm your whore. I'm everyone's whore."
"Say it again," Malik said, his voice hard.
She turned to face him, her hips still moving, her breath ragged. "I'm your whore, Malik. I'm Terrence's whore. I'm DeShawn's whore." She looked down at Darius, her eyes finding his. "I'm Darius's whore. I’m a hungry little slut for your big black cocks.”
Darius's hands tightened on her hips, and she felt his cock twitch inside her. He was close. She could feel it in the way his breathing changed, the way his rhythm faltered.
"Not yet," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She rose off him, his cock sliding out of her with a wet sound, and watched his face twist with the effort of holding back.
She turned, her knees finding the lounger, and crawled toward Malik. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending singing with the need to be filled, but she wanted him first. She wanted to feel him lose control.
She settled over his hips, her knees on either side of his thighs, and reached down to guide his cock to her entrance. She was so wet she could feel it dripping down her inner thigh, and she saw Malik's eyes drop to where her hand held him, watched his jaw tighten.
"You think you're in charge now?" Malik asked, his voice low, dangerous.
"I think I want to feel you inside me," she said, and sank onto him.
He was thicker than Darius, and the stretch was different—deeper, fuller, pressing against parts of her that made her gasp. She paused, letting her body adjust, and looked into his eyes. "Fuck, Malik. You feel so good. Your dick is so thick it’s spitting me in half.”
His hands found her hips, not guiding, just holding, and she began to move. She rode him slow at first, letting him feel every inch of the slide, letting herself feel the way he filled her. The room was quiet except for the wet sound of her body and the ragged breathing of the men watching.
She looked down at him, her hair falling around her face, and saw his composure crack. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight, his hands gripping her hips like he was holding onto his control by the thinnest thread.
"You like this," she said, her voice a whisper. "You like watching me lose control."
"I like watching you take what you need," he said, his voice rough. "Now take it."
She rode him harder, faster, the rhythm building into something desperate. She could feel her orgasm approaching, a pressure coiling low in her belly, and she didn't try to stop it. She let it build, let it grow, let it consume her.
"Look at her," Terrence said, his voice thick with wonder. "She's going to come on his cock."
Leah's head fell back, her body tensing, the pleasure cresting and breaking over her like a wave. She cried out, a sharp, broken sound, and felt Malik's hands tighten on her hips as she clenched around him, her body milking him in long, pulsing waves.
"Fuck," Malik breathed, and she felt his hips buck, felt him come inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her.
She collapsed forward, her forehead resting against his, her breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the heat of their skin, the mingled wetness between her thighs.
Malik's hand came up, cupping her jaw, tilting her face to meet his. "Good girl," he said, his voice low, and she felt the words settle into her bones.
She slid off him, his cum leaking out of her, and turned to Terrence. He was already reaching for her, his hands finding her waist and pulling her onto the lounger beside him. She didn't wait for direction. She straddled him, guided his cock to her entrance, and sank onto him with a moan of pure need.
He was thinner, longer, and the angle was different. She leaned forward, her hands on his chest, and rode him like she was starving for it. Her hips moved in tight circles, grinding against him, and she felt the pleasure building again, a familiar wave that she was learning to ride.
"You're so wet," Terrence gasped. "I can feel you dripping around me."
She looked down at him, her hair falling around her face, and grinned. "You feel so good inside me. God how long is your dick?I love being filled by all of you." “Ten big black inches baby, and you’re taking every bit of it so well.” he responded.
DeShawn moved closer, his cock inches from her face, and she opened her mouth without being asked. She took him deep, her tongue working the length of him as she continued to ride Terrence, her body moving in a rhythm that was pure instinct.
She was lost. She was everything. She was a vessel for their pleasure, and she loved it.
Terrence's hands found her hips, guiding her pace, and she felt his cock twitch inside her. He was close. She pulled her mouth off DeShawn, a string of spit connecting her lips to his cock, and looked down at Terrence.
"Come inside me," she said, her voice a command. "Fill me up."
He groaned, his hips bucking, and she felt him come, felt the heat of his release flooding into her. She rode him through it, milking every drop, and when he was done, she slid off him and turned to DeShawn.
He was already hard, his cock glistening with her spit, and she lay back on the lounger, spreading her legs wide. "Fuck me," she said. "I need to feel you inside me."
He didn't hesitate. He positioned himself between her thighs, his cock pressing against her entrance, and pushed into her with a single, smooth thrust. She gasped at the fullness, at the stretch, at the way her body welcomed him.
"Look at you," he said, his voice rough, his hands gripping her hips. "You're so full of cum you're dripping onto the couch."
She didn't care. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper, her hands finding his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. "Fuck me," she repeated. "Fuck me like I'm your whore."
He did. He fucked her hard, his hips slapping against hers, the sound of their bodies filling the cabana. She let her head fall back, her eyes closing, and let herself feel everything—the fullness of his cock inside her, the heat of the cum still leaking out of her, the weight of the eyes watching her.
She came again, a sharp, sudden climax that took her by surprise, her body clenching around him with a force that made him groan. "Fuck, Leah. You're so tight."
She didn't answer. She was beyond words, beyond thought, lost in the endless loop of pleasure and need. She felt him grow harder inside her, felt his rhythm falter, and she knew he was close.
"Come inside me," she whispered. "Fill me up with your cum. I want to feel it dripping out of me for the rest of the night."
He came with a low groan, his body shuddering as he emptied into her, and she held him there, her legs wrapped around him, her body accepting everything he had to give.
DeShawn pulled out slowly, his cock sliding free with a wet sound, and she felt the first trickle of his cum mixing with the others, warm and thick against her thighs. She lay still for a moment, her chest heaving, her body humming with the aftershocks of three orgasms and the weight of four loads inside her.
Darius stood, his shadow falling over her. "Not done yet."
She opened her eyes. He was looking down at her, his cock still half-hard, glistening with her wetness. "I promised you something last night," he said. "Something you haven't had yet today."
She knew what he meant. Her ass. The memory of his cock pushing into her from behind, the stretch, the burn, the way he'd filled her completely. She'd been thinking about it all day.
"I want it," she said, her voice hoarse. "I want all of you. That way too."
Darius's mouth curved, a slow, satisfied smile. "Good. But we're doing this right. Everyone gets a turn." He looked at Malik. "You first. You earned it."
Malik stood, his cum still wet on her thighs from where it had leaked out of her. He moved behind her, his hands finding her hips, and she felt the head of his cock press against her ass. She tensed, remembering the stretch, and felt his hand on her lower back, pressing her down onto the lounger.
"Breathe," he said. "You know how this works."
She nodded, her face pressed into the canvas, and forced herself to relax. His cock pushed against her, the pressure building, and then he was inside her, the stretch sharp and overwhelming. She gasped, her fingers gripping the canvas, and felt him pause.
"You okay?"
"Yes," she breathed. "Don't stop."
He pushed deeper, inch by inch, until he was seated fully inside her. The fullness was different here—deeper, more intense, pressing against places that made her see stars. She felt him move, slow at first, letting her adjust, and then faster, his hips slapping against her ass.
"Look at them watch," Malik said, his voice rough. "They're all watching me fuck your ass."
She turned her head. Terrence was stroking himself, his eyes fixed on where Malik's cock disappeared into her body. DeShawn had moved closer, his hand wrapped around his own cock, watching with hungry intensity. Darius stood behind Malik, his hands on his hips, his eyes dark and satisfied.
She was a spectacle. She was theirs.
Malik fucked her harder, his rhythm building, and she felt the pleasure coil in her belly, different from before—deeper, more intense, a wave that was building and building. "I'm going to come," she gasped. "Malik, I'm going to—"
"Come," he said. "Come on my cock."
She did. The orgasm ripped through her, her body clenching around him, and she heard herself cry out, a sound that was half-pleasure, half-pain. Malik groaned, his hips bucking, and she felt him come inside her ass, hot and pulsing, filling her in a way that made her feel completely owned.
He pulled out, and she felt the emptiness, the ache, the cum leaking out of her. She didn't move. She lay there, her face pressed into the canvas, her body trembling, waiting for the next one.
Terrence was next. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips, and pushed into her ass with a single, smooth thrust. She moaned at the stretch, at the fullness, at the way her body accepted him without resistance. He fucked her fast, his rhythm desperate, and she felt him come within minutes, his cum adding to the pool already inside her.
DeShawn followed, slower, deeper, taking his time. He fucked her ass with a steady, deliberate rhythm, his hands gripping her hips so hard she knew there would be bruises. She came again, a sharp, sudden climax that made her see white, and he came right after, his body shuddering as he emptied into her.
And then Darius.
He knelt behind her, his hands finding her hips, and she felt his cock press against her already-used ass. The sensitivity was overwhelming, the stretch a burning pleasure, and she gasped as he pushed inside her.
"You've been so good," he said, his voice low, his hips moving in slow, deep thrusts. "Taking all of us. Letting us use you."
"I love it," she breathed. "I love being your whore."
"I know." He fucked her harder, his rhythm building, and she felt the pleasure coiling again, insistent and overwhelming. "Come with me, Leah. Come on my cock one more time."
She did. The orgasm crashed over her, her body clenching around him, and she felt him come, felt his cock pulsing inside her, filling her completely. She collapsed onto the lounger, her body spent, her mind floating somewhere above the cabana.
Darius pulled out, and she felt the cum leak out of her, warm and thick, a river of it running down her thighs. She didn't move. She couldn't. She was theirs, completely and utterly, and she had never felt more alive.
She felt a hand on her hair, stroking gently. "You did good," Malik said, his voice soft, almost tender. "Rest now."
She closed her eyes, the sound of their breathing filling the cabana, and let herself drift. She was full of them. She was marked by them. And she knew, with a certainty that settled into her bones, that she would do it all again the moment they asked.
“I think I need a drink.” she said. She pried herself from the lounger and crawled over to her ruined dress and slipped it back on. “Be back in a minute boys.” She flashed them a submissive smile. She caught a glimpse of herself in the cabana mirror. Her hai was a mess, one dress strap hung loose down her shoulder and her dress was stained with cum from six different men in the last twenty four hours. She smirked at the ruined visage of herself and stepped out of the curtains and headed to the bar.
As she walked to the bar she noticed the same woman who caught her yesterday being towed away by the guys half naked and being groped. She locked eyes with her again, and she glanced back to the cabana Leah had come out of. The men had their shorts back on and had opened the curtains and lounged inside. The woman noticed how used Leah looked, the hair, swollen lips, the ruined mascara and the tear trails down her cheeeks. Her mouth dropped in shock, and maybe something else. Just a flicker before she hid it away but Leah caught it. Jealousy. Leah sauntered over to the woman, leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Don’t act so shocked love, I saw the look in your eyes. You’d do it to if you could.” The woman flushed red and balked for a moment. “My husband is right next to me!” she said. Leah took him in overweight with a beer belly and balding. Snoring on the lounger next to the woman passed out drunk. Leah looked back at the woman, she was tall and lean with a runners build, early fifties but she wore the time well. She had small full breasts and a round ass with long lithe legs. A devilish idea formed in her mind. The boys would be so happy with me if I brought them another plaything she thought. “Leah” she introduced herself. The woman stayed silent for a moment,”Megan.” she said finally. Leah leaned down close to Megans lips, so close she could smell the seed and scent of cock on her lips. “Look Megan, from the looks of it, you could sneak away for an hour or so and you’re hubby over there would be none the wiser. Looks like he’s going to be useless for awhile. Now honey, i’ve only milked two rounds from those men so far today, and I know from personal experience, they have a lot more than that in them. I’m going to the bar to grab a drink and my husband, I want you to come with me when I walk back. Follow me into that cabana and you’re going to be fucked like you’ve never been in your entire life.” Megan stared mouth agape and Leah gave her a small kiss on her lips, letting her taste the men on her. Megan shuddered and gasped. “God what the hell am I doing?”she asked herself. “Ok, i’ll come with you when you come back.” Leah smiled and simply said “Good.”