Ride with us

Candy Strong and I spot you from the curb. We want more than a glance tonight. She opens the door, blonde hair catching the passing headlights. Her big tits press against the seat as she leans in, eyes on you. I slide behind the wheel, heels planted, skirt riding high. Both of us smile like we already know what happens next. Candy reaches over and squeezes my thigh. The leather creaks. We’re not looking for polite small talk. We need skin, heat, noise. Two women who like their pleasure loud and fast. The car pulls away from the curb. Candy turns, kneels on the seat, mouth close to your ear. Her breath is warm. My hand stays steady on the stick. One eye on the road, one on her as she pulls her top down. Those heavy tits spill free and she doesn’t cover them. She grabs your wrist, places your palm on her breast, shows you how tight she likes the grip. Then she twists toward me, lips parting, tongue meeting mine over the center console. The engine hums. Red lights streak across her skin. She tastes like cigarettes and cherry gloss. We pull off the main strip into a dark lot. Tires crunch gravel. Candy climbs over, pulls you forward so your face is buried between those tits. I kill the engine, climb into the back, my skirt already hiked. Her jeans come down fast. She spreads for me, knees wide on the seat, and I lick once, slow, then harder, tasting how wet she already is. She moans into your mouth while my tongue works her open. Fingers curl into my hair. Her hips buck. Every sound she makes is for both of us now. Candy pushes you back, unzips you, sinks down without waiting. The car rocks. I slip behind her, one hand on her throat, the other between her legs so I can feel every inch you push inside. She rides like she wants bruises. I bite her shoulder. She grinds harder. Outside, the city hums. Inside, it’s sweat, gasps, the slap of skin. We keep you pinned between us, taking turns, tongues and fingers and slick heat until the windows fog and the night blurs. Candy comes first, loud, clenching, head thrown back. Then me, legs shaking, mouth open against her neck. We don’t stop until the car reeks of sex and every seat is warm. Only then do we light cigarettes, pass one between the three of you, and ask if you want to drive next time.