Backstage with Wibeke

She stands barefoot in the laundry room, arms folded, staring at the old machine that quit mid-cycle. Her robe clings to her hips, the belt slack at her waist. Two service guys roll in the heavy toolbox, shirts already tight across their shoulders. One drops to his knees, reaches behind the washer, and the hum starts again. The sound dies under her slow exhale. She shrugs the robe off one shoulder. The taller man steps close, knuckles brushing her collarbone as he slides the fabric down her arms. It pools at her feet. She sinks to the tile and opens his belt with steady fingers. He hardens fast against her tongue, thick enough to stretch her lips wide. The second man watches, palming himself, then kneels behind her. Cool lube coats her ass; his thumb presses, then two fingers sink deep. She rocks back, mouth still full, until he replaces them with the blunt head of his cock and pushes in steady. Now she is stretched on both ends. The cock in her mouth slides to her throat while the one behind works deeper, slow at first, then harder. They find a rhythm that knocks her forward onto the first shaft and back onto the second. When the guy beneath her lifts her onto his lap, the other follows, easing into her pussy. She braces on their shoulders. Two heavy cocks work inside her at once, one in her ass, the other buried to the hilt in her cunt, the slick heat of both forcing little sounds from her throat. Sweat slides down her spine. They hold her open and fuck her until her thighs shake and the second load spills hot across her lower back.