P*rnstation
"But we have something better. Creamier. Want to try?"
My mouth went dry, but my pussy clenched at the implication. I looked at each of them. Dave had stopped wiping the counter, his eyes on me. Carlos set the cones down and Ben leaned against the freezer, arms crossed.
"What do you mean?" I asked, voice a little shaky but curious.
Mike stepped closer. "We mean this." He reached into a small cooler near the floor, pulled out a tub of whipped cream, the kind they used for sundaes. He popped the lid, scooped a finger full, held it up. "Open your mouth."