Ashley Martin, a 22-year-old senior from LSU, swans into the alumni party at the Marriott Hotel's Grand Ballroom uninvited, her 38DD breasts bouncing freely by way of each deliberate footstep. With her departure for a three-month European tour only 48 hours away, Ashley embraces the nightscape in her most daring party attire: hot pink fishnet stockings with diamond patterns stretching across her thick, praline thighs; black leather knee-high boots with four-inch heels; a black lingerie top; and a faded denim mini-skirt barely covering the apple cheeks of her bubble-round ass. Her witch-hazel eyes and alluring southern grace make her the center of attention as she gyrates to the DJ's pulsing bass. Her bleached-blonde hair—freshly highlighted yesterday—is wild and free around her high cheekbones and perfect white teeth, the strobe lights accentuating her smooth porcelain skin and captivating every male within a fifty-foot radius.
Laura Citron, her best friend and partner in crime, wears a leopard-print halter top that showcases her very own DD breasts. After all, it was Laura's crazy idea that two sexy seniors, home in Fort Worth for the summer, could break into an alumni party unannounced, party together all night—get Ashley laid before her European departure—then crash in private rooms. Together, they employ stripper-style moves and playful gestures, drawing a ring of nearby partygoers, especially men, who strain to hear their playful banter.
"Girl, you look like a goddess from hell! Those pink fishnets are killer!" Laura exclaims, twirling Ashley around on the dance floor and slapping her backside with a friendly girlfriend slap.
"Thanks! I could use a little adventure tonight," Ashley winks back, her witchy sex appeal drawing the lure of two slightly older men who can't resist buying her drinks.
As she bumps and grinds on the dance floor, Ashley's bracelets catch the disco light, adding an elegant touch to her gypsy-like appearance. Both girls begin teasing, cupping their breasts, and daring men to keep up with their crazy antics. As the heat of the night continues, Ashley removes her high-heeled boots and dances barefoot in her sheer fishnets, feeling the crowd's energy pulsing through her body as her soles glide along the cool granite floor.
James and Trey, two older, well-dressed guys, approach Ashley on the dance floor, their eager eyes glued to her smooth steps and slutty come-fuck-me looks. James, the taller one, takes up the rear, the two men working in tandem. Trey, the better dancer, tries to lead, as the two men sway to her Bohemian style. James leans in, his lips grazing the side of her neck: "You're hotter than gran’s gumbo!" he jokes, touching her skirt, and sweeping a hand along the arc of her ass.
"I might let you in later," Ashley replies, her voice playful, a confident smile stretching across her face. When she mentions her room with a small kitchenette, James and Trey exchange glances, their lips tight to avert a grin. Then Ashley, noticing their glances, backs away, creating more distance for dramatic effect: "It's Room 237," she shouts, cupping her hands to either side of her mouth. "That is if you're interested," she winks.
The hotel corridor is a hollow maze as Ashley staggers toward her room at 1:47 AM, her clunky high-heeled boots dangling from her fingertips, the carpet rough against her stocking-covered feet. Room 237's door clicks behind her. She peels away the sheer top from her hot, sticky skin. Her fishnets follow, then her skirt, bra, and panties, each item dropping in a crumpled trail toward the king-sized bed, where she sinks into the cool white sheets, her blonde hair in shambles and fanning across the pillow.
The triple knock jolts her out of sleep. "Shit," she whispers, jerking upright in the bed, tits jostling. Her bare, manicured feet hit the floor, stooping to scoop up the fishnets, then working frantically to tug them over her still-damp thighs. Next, a few quick snaps of her skirt. The lingerie top falls over her head—inside out—with her nipples visible through the thin, sheer fabric. Through the chained lock: James's grin, Trey's sweat-soaked shirt, and ice cubes clinking in a stolen glass. The chain slides free.
"Look what we brought," James says, lifting his glass.
In the low light of the kitchen, Trey's shadow stretches across the ceramic tile as he excuses himself to the bathroom. James's tongue tastes like whiskey and reefer, his right hand smoothing around Ashley’s breasts, drawing slow circles until her nipples harden, his breath hot against her neck, and his left hand sliding below her skirt, below the elastic waistband of her fishnets, feeling the smooth slick of her naked porcelain skin for the very first time.
The bathroom door clicks open just in time for James's hands to reach around Ashley's waist from behind, grab the bottom of her black top, and lift it clear to her shoulders in a single sweep. Then, he positions his palms to support both breasts and presents them to Trey like offerings.
"Jesus," Trey whispers, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "Those are perfect!"
"Aren't these the damn prettiest set of titties you've ever seen?" James says jokingly.
Ashley, emboldened by James's gestures and comments, steps to the center of the room and slides her palms along her hips, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her jean skirt, unsnapping the metal snaps. She then shimmies it over her hips with a slow, sensual twist, letting it fall in a limp heap at her feet, the pink fishnets hugging her thighs and calves, the diamond patterns highlighting every curve and flex of muscle as she steps out of the skirt and takes confident steps toward the bed. The sheer interwoven patterns of her stockings barely conceal the thick patch of dark hair, a sharp contrast against the pale skin of her legs. James, already sprawled on his back on the bed, watches with hungry eyes as she moves closer.
She kneels between his parted legs, her knees sinking into the mattress, and smiles a white-toothed smile at the tented bulge straining against his zipper. "Looks like you've been waiting for this opportunity all night," she exclaims, biting her lower lip. She unzips his fly, fingers deft and practiced, and tugs his jeans down just enough to free the full mast of his cock. James groans as she wraps her hand around the base, thumb swirling at the tip, the other hand braced against his inner thigh.
Ashley leans in and brushes her cheek over the circumcised head, teasing him with feather-light flicks of her tongue. She then trails the tip in slow, lazy circles across the sensitive ridges, heat rising in her cheeks as she gauges his reaction with every twitch and groan. "You like that?" she teases, her lips grazing the shaft as she speaks, her breath a warm cascade of water against his exposed skin. James can only nod, his hands gripping the sheets, knuckles pale, eyes closed.
Trey, standing across the room, observes the scene with open astonishment and barely-contained arousal, his metal belt buckle hitting the floor. He begins to stroke himself over his boxers, anticipation rising as he watches Ashley claim James's cock with her mouth and hands. Ashley glances back at Trey, catching his eye, and gives him an assuring wink as she takes James deeper into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with the sucking motion.
James's hips push up, his breath coming in short, agonizing bursts. Ashley grins around his cock, relishing the feel of power, of being the center of attention. She slides back, letting the shaft slip from her mouth with a wet pop. "Your turn!" she commands, tilting her head toward Trey, who grins back, dropping his boxers down to his ankles. He's already hard and leaking from the tip, and Ashley responds with a soft, appreciative giggle.
She shifts her weight, rolling onto her back between them, then pulls Trey down for a forceful, urgent kiss. Their tongues meet, Trey's hands busy beneath her lingerie top, squeezing her breasts and playing with her nipples through the thin fabric. James, confident now of Ashley's desire to fuck, yanks her top to her shoulders, exposing her large areolas to the cool air-conditioned air and Trey's hungry hands. The two men exchange a glance, both eager to fuck, and they both begin kissing the landscape of her body—Trey from her lips, James nuzzling at her stomach and hips, moving down to her feet, taking her stocking-swaddled toes into his mouth, and wishing for a moment that the stockings were gone.
Ashley writhes between them, her entire body electrified, then moves into the doggy position, straddling James. She lifts her ass, hooks a thumb into the web of her fishnets, and yanks a ragged hole in the crotch, exposing the dark tangles of pubic hair below. James wastes no time, lining himself up for entry, rubbing the head of his cock along her wet slit, teasing her until she tosses her head back, her blonde shoulder-length hair trailing down her back.
And while watching James moan like a girl, Trey steps out of his boxers, which are still tangled around his ankles, and climbs into bed to join the action. Ashley struggles to expand the hole in her fishnets a bit more, making it even larger, then leans forward and slowly guides James's cock to home base. "I want both of you inside of me," she begs through hot breath, eyes closed, her body bobbing up and down, taking more of his cock with every move.
Trey climbs into bed, cock in hand, and positions himself behind Ashley's apple-round ass, observing the soft soles of her feet, her toes curled against the cool sheets, and James’s shaft disappearing. He spits on his cock, rips the hole in her stockings some more, and begins to insert his cock—little by little—into her asshole, watching her back curve to accommodate both cocks, and applying more saliva as needed. Her teeth clench, and her hips roll with a practiced rhythm as Trey smacks her ass and works against the tight grip of her anal muscles until his cock is entirely inside of her. "Such a good little whore . . . goddamn, you’re good . . . FUCK!"
"Christ, you're wet," James manages through desperate breath from below as he grips Ashley's waist and thrusts his hips upward against her slow fucking. He can feel Trey's shaft above, moving against his own, but in the opposite direction.
"Keep it slow like that," Ashley whispers with eyes closed, her body steady as though fucking two guys at once was her morning coffee routine, her breasts rocking gently with each deliberate movement, her nipples rosebud peaks.
Trey finishes fast, his body straining as he grips Ashley's hips with bruising intensity, his cock pulsing deep inside. He slops out of her ass and rolls off the bed, leaving a smeared brown stain on the bleached-white sheets.
And while Trey is washing up in the bathroom, James repositions Ashley onto her back, slips her lingerie top over her head, and tosses it to the floor. He yanks her fishnets down to her hips, over her thighs, knees, and past the tips of her pretty-painted toes, seeing her barefoot and naked for the very first time. He then pushes her porcelain-white legs into a V-shape. Yet, he pauses briefly to admire her vintage naked form and pelvic tattoo before diving into her pussy again, thrusting hard and steady, his damp flesh tacky against her velvet skin, her nude white legs hugging his torso—ankles locked behind his back—and her toes coiled.
Trey returns from the bathroom, his cock hard in his hand again, and props a foot against the mattress to watch Ashley's toes make white-knuckled fists, her burgundy-painted toenails gleaming under the bright bedside lamp, as James plunges deeper, his balls slapping with each frenzied stroke, pulling out at the end with a guttural groan, and jacking cum across her stomach and onto the sheets.
Spent, James falls to his side on the mattress, rolling over the brown smudge as he struggles to catch his breath. Trey leans over the bed, and while masturbating, he takes Ashley's naked, manicured toes into his mouth, swirling his tongue between the spaces of soft flesh, tasting the salt of her sweat and the left-behind traces of nylon from the fishnets. "I like that," she whispers. "Finger me now," comes her gargled voice. And with his free hand, Trey explores her coarse mound of curly hair, sliding his fingers into her cum-slickened slit one last time. He works on her G-spot, but her body is lifeless. Eyes closed, asleep. Trey cums again, dripping his seed across her breasts, then with both hands, he smears it into her soft skin.
Minutes later, James and Trey scramble for their clothes, dressing like bandits leaving a crime scene. At the same time, Ashley lies sprawled across the tangled sheets with one arm resting over her forehead, toenails gleaming, cum glistening, the tortured fishnets surrendered on the floor, and a satisfied smile playing on her lips as both men slip out the door of room 237 without a single goodbye. In the morning, as she's packing for Europe, Ashley can feel the soreness in her ass, but James and Trey are just another memory.
