The Super-8 hotel on Freemont Road on the outskirts of Atlanta was, for a Tuesday, relatively scarce save for a few occupants, the hotel had seen its fair share of sin taking place on a daily basis, but this particular sin was in a league of its own. The activities going on in Room 313 could only be described as outright unholy. "Tits," Chloe begged, "Please," she whimpered, once again on the cusp of precipice. Through hooded eyelids, the woman watched as a hand surged forward, twisting the screw and tightening the device, eliciting a throaty, grateful moan. Chloe's lip quivered. Her entire body trembled as release ached to get out. As the clamp tightened, Chloe took in the equally naked person before her, her literal carbon copy. Darla's face remained cold and impersonal, while she gave her twin what she wanted. That was their system, ever since this thing between them started when they were seventeen. They'd given up on trying to put a label on it. T...
Комментарии
Отправить комментарий