Lily LaBeau Gets Played in a Raunchy Pool Hall

Isis and JP showed up to meet Lily LaBeau and took one look at what they’d walked into. She was already shaking with need, mouth open, eyes begging before a single word left their mouths. Desperate. That suited them fine. They sized her up, called her what she was, and decided she wasn’t worth their time. Instead they tossed the whore to Bill Bailey, the real pool shark in the joint, and told him to bend her any way he liked until Sunday came twice. He started by stretching her on the felt, blonde hair fanned across the green like cheap neon. Athletic frame twisted into the rails while he worked her tight ass open, every thrust driving her hips against the table’s edge. She clawed at the pockets, breath ragged, taking the kind of deep, relentless strokes that left her shaking and slick. No mercy, no break, just the steady slap of skin and the hollow crack of balls rolling under her. By the time he finished she was wrecked, mascara smeared, knees weak, and still asking for more.