As soon as the red light goes on the cam, Sally turns her pert ass towards it and abandons her sodden thong. She throws it to Kristy-Anne to sniff and lick as she spreads her ass cheeks and flips her skirt right up over her back. Kirsty-Anne chews on Sally's abandoned thong, making holes in the tiny patch of sodden fabric. Sally turns slowly towards Kristy-Anne, who cracks her whip over the perfect smoothness of Sally's rounded cheeks. Sally backs closer to the cock protruding from Kirsty-Anne's mound, turns, and straddles it, easing herself down towards it. As she dips down lower, she plays with her clit, and runs her fingers along her slit and into her dripping cunt, until she slams down onto the false cock and starts riding it into her juicy quim. Kirsty-Ann lifts Sally's camisole over her head, and as Sally raises her arms, takes it off. Sally leans closer to Kristy-Anne, and shoves her tits into the army woman's face. Sally clasps her hands behind Kirsty-Anne's head and slowly runs her hands along her crewcut nape, and the back and sides of her head. She allows her hands to slip across each bristle, which makes both these dykes more excited. Kristy-Anne uses her teeth to tug on Sally's nipple rings, pulling her nips out as long as Sally can bear. The crowd outside cheer and whistle, and as the brown-skinned, black-haired girl passes the hat around, it rapidly fills with cash.
The digicam is capturing every move. Kirsty-Anne and Sally know that to achieve their target in tips, the crowd are going to have to want to see an orgasm. Some people are starting to drift away; after all, sex is for sale all around them, and two girls and a fake cock is not the only attraction.
Kirsty-Anne lifts Sally off her appendage, unstraps her harness and abandons it into a corner close to the front of the window. It's time for Sally to be used all over her delicious body. Kristy-Anne cracks her whip and Sally drops onto all fours. Her gorgeous ass faces the crowd. Kirsty-Anne faces the crowd and straddles Sally, spreads Sally's cheeks, and displays her crack, and hole, as well as her cunt to the crowd. The tips flow into the hat. Kristy-Anne orders Sally on to the lounge to gain some height. Kirsty-Anne then kneels below and, spreading the delicious ass once more, begins to lick all around β and use her stiffened tongue to trace from clit to ass hole. Sally bucks and shudders, and throws her head around. She is so close to cumming the crowd holds its collective breath. All of a sudden, Sally explodes in a quivering release. She grunts and then lets out a deep-felt moan of pleasure. The hat is brimming over with money from the spectators. Neither is oblivious to the crowd, in fact their excitement is heightened by the audience.
Sappho appears at the window and holds up a sign. "Go. Now. You have 1 hour and 30 minutes to make your flight to - Sydney β where it's Mardi Gras time!"
Wooooooooooooh. Kirsty-Anne is going to have to wait for her turn. Frustrated, she picks up her dildo and harness, and stomps off, cracking her whip and parting the crowd as she strides off looking for a taxi to the airport. Sally scrambles into her flimsy, flirty clothes, including the sticky, skanky, holey g-string, grabs the digicam and chases after her Mistress.
If Kirsty-Anne is out of sorts now, Sally is imagining how she will be after a 24 hour flight to Sydney, crammed into an economy class seat in the plane, with little likelihood of any vigorous sex. It's been many years since the army officer has gone a day without fucking. Sally turns on the camera and records herself "Wow, Kirsty-Anne is really pissed off. I had a huge cum and she was denied one! She's well pissed off, and likely to be a hostile bitch for some time! Maybe I'll get a chance to ease her tension on the plane, maybe not!"
They arrive at the departure lounge without a minute to spare. They are last to board the plane, and every pair of eyes follows them as they walk the length of the plane to their seats in the back row. A bespectacled, middle aged woman is sitting reading in the middle seat of three. Kirsty-Anne and Sally have to occupy the seats either side of her.
The woman sneaks some glances at her row companions. An audible gasp escapes from her, and she hurriedly buries her face deeper in her book. Her dream of stretching out across three seats has been shattered by the arrival of these two rather, errr, outlandish (she thinks to herself) women. The look on her face says it all.
Before the plane has even taken off, Sally starts chatting to the woman, who is called Cheryl. She starts by asking what she is reading. A novel by Colette, she is told. "Are you Australian?" Sally asks. No, she is English. She is going to Sydney for a large family celebration. "We're going for a similar reason" Sally informs Cheryl, "a great big party!" The chit-chat continues, as Kirsty-Anne glowers, squirming in her seat, desperately trying to rub her aroused clit enough to achieve some release. It's not working. After take-off, she gets up and takes the cam to the bathroom. There she engages in some less-than-spirited masturbation, dashing her fingers in and out her cunt, as she talks to the camera she has set up on the stainless steel basin edge. "That slut Sally is engaged in trivial chit-chat with a boring English bitch, and I'm left rubbin' me nubbin here in the cramped airline toilet. Grrrrrrrrrr." Kirsty-Anne shudders a little, and is let down from a quiet and perfunctory release. At least it eases her frustration a little. But not much!
Kirsty-Anne returns to her seat, just as Sally is saying "and we managed 3510 Euros in tips!!" Mousy-woman has her legs up on the seat back in front of her, and is vigorously pushing her own fingers in and out her cunt! The book lies cover-up on Kirsty-Anne's seat. Sally winks at Kirsty-Anne, and conveys a world of meaning. Why that little slut, thinks Kirsty-Anne, as she breaks into a smile. Well, this trip might be better than she anticipated, she thinks, as she re-seats herself. Within a moment, she feels an unfamiliar hand on her flesh, covering the cutout area of her leather pants. . . and immediately a finger searching for an altogether more sensitive part . . .
In unison, Kristy-Anne and Sally yawn to camera, manage to smile and say in unison "Not a moment's sleep in a 24 hour flight!" It seems every time they tried to catch a few winks, one of the other two women roused her with renewed sex play. Tits and cunts hurt from being probed, sucked, tweaked and played with. Time to catch a short nap before taking part in the Mardi Gras Parade through the streets of Sydney and then partying the night away. Kristy-Anne and Sally are guests of honour at the head of the parade with the famous Dykes on Bikes, their legs astride throbbing Harleys, hanging on to the tits of the dyke in front.