"Let's go bathe."
One of the three sisters proposed it casually, but her voice carried a sultry lilt, like she knew very well what such an innocent suggestion would turn into.
We were all sweaty and dirty, our skin glistening under the glow of the divine lamps. Dried streaks of semen plastered their thighs, their stomachs, their breasts. Marcelle's hair was matted to her flushed face, and the sisters smelled of me—my cum was on their lips, between their thighs, across their asses. Even I could feel the stickiness across my stomach and chest, the faint crust along my shaft.
So we agreed without hesitation.
We left the massive chamber together, the wide doors swinging shut behind us.
Marcelle walked at the front, her steps slow and unsteady. Her swollen pussy still leaked heavily, fat white globes of cum rolling down her inner thighs, dripping in wet splashes onto the marble floor with every sway of her hips.
