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Both naked.
Still.
Mannequin-like.
Their eyes closed.
Their tongues touching, positioned, angling for her clit, for her opening.
Sheets of aqua-blue water began sliding down the sides of the cylinder, giving the illusions of a waterfall, as it slowly spun around.
Suddenly, the men in the encasements began thrusting simultaneously in sync to the slow, seductive beat of the music. They slow-fucked.
“Mm . . . mm . . . mm . . .”
The mesmerizing beauty on the pedestal captivated the audience.
Her two lovers, precipitously, began stroking her clit with their tongues and then sucking her like she was a sweet juicy fruit.
The rotating pedestal slowed.
Large green sea turtles could be seen gracefully swimming around the large glass encasements, as the human statues got lost in the throes of passion.
In. Out. In. Out.
Slow, deep thrusts in rhythmic motion.
In. Out. In. Out.
And then they froze, again.
Now the females began thrusting, slowly sliding their pussies back and forth over each man’s shaft, as he stood motionless. Up. Back. Up. Back. Up. Back.
The female statues froze again as the exotic beauty’s face suddenly appeared on the large screens, ensnaring her audience.
Applause erupted. Men whistled.
And LaQuandra looked around trying to understand what the hell they were all clapping for. The woman’s face was vaguely familiar to her, yet she couldn’t place where’d she’d seen it. And, honestly, she didn’t care. What she cared about was how this show of sorts had somehow managed to have her panties a soggy mess.
“Goddamn she’s fine,” Roselle murmured.
Yes, God, she was, Brenda admitted inwardly. She felt her inner walls tighten and a tiny drop of warm heat trickle out of her.
She’d seen that face before. That body. That ass. Those beautiful breasts.
She and Roselle . . . they both had. And they had the videos—every last one of them.
Krista shifted in her seat. A hand went up to her neck. She felt herself growing warm. This is getting ridiculous, Krista thought as she glanced over at Kendall who seemed to be spellbound.
The music looped to the beginning again.
“Mm . . . mm . . . mm . . .”
And the men in the background, with their hard-bodies, chiseled pecs, and ridged six-packs began thrusting again.
Slowly.
In.
