Anal Therapy

Mona and Tommy are stuck in the same chair, same fights, same dead end marriage. Dr. Cheri decides to cut through the bullshit. The real problem is obvious: Mona hasn’t taken it up the ass and it’s poisoning everything else. Clothes come off fast. Mona and Cheri press close, tongues tangling, hands roaming like they finally found something worth wanting. Tommy watches, cock already hard, while the two women lick and finger each other open. Then the switch flips. Tommy has them both stripped, wrists bound tight behind their backs, mouths stuffed with gags that turn every moan into a muffled growl. He works them over—slaps, grips, the whole show—until they’re bent and spread, asses presented like an offering. He fucks them hard, one after the other, driving deep into each tight hole while they strain against the ropes. Mona takes it shaking, Cheri takes it snarling; neither gets to call the shots now. Sweat, spit, the wet slap of skin—every thrust is another crack in the old dynamic. By the time he’s done, the marriage might still be fucked, but at least the tension finally has somewhere to go.