Olya stumbled through the doorway of the unfinished house, her short red hair disheveled and her breasts heaving with each drunken breath. The white of her wedding dress was stained with dirt and tears, a stark contrast to the dark, empty room she now found herself in.
She had fled from the fight with her groom, seeking solace in the solitude of the abandoned building site. But she was not alone for long. Two hooligans, their faces hardened by the streets and their clothes stained with grease, appeared from the shadows.
"Hey, love, you look like you could use a drink," one of them said, offering her a bottle of cheap vodka.
Olya, too drunk to refuse, took the bottle and sat down between them. As they talked, she noticed their hands slowly creeping up her legs, under her dress. She should have been alarmed, but the alcohol had numbed her senses.
"What are you doing?" she mumbled, looking up in confusion when a hand landed on her breast.
"Cheerin' each other up, love," the other hooligan said, grinning. "We've had our share of fights with our girls too."
Before she knew it, her dress was pulled down, exposing her breasts. The hooligans began to grope and squeeze them, their rough hands sending shivers down her spine. She should have pushed them away, but she was too drunk to care.
The hooligans took out their dicks and placed her hands on them, starting to masturbate with her help. Olya looked back and forth between them, each with a dick in her hand. She was in a daze, unsure of how she had ended up in this situation.
The hooligan on her left pulled her onto her back and started to fuck her, while the other shoved his dick in her mouth. Olya, now fully embracing the situation, moaned and hugged the hooligan fucking her.
The hooligans switched positions, with the one in her mouth cumming first, followed by the one in her pussy. Olya, drunk and lustful, eagerly complied when they convinced her to suck them off at the same time.
When they were done, the hooligans thanked Olya and left her, cum flowing out of her mouth and pussy. She lay there, feeling like a "dirty whore," but unable to muster up any regret. The alcohol had taken over, and she was left with only the memories of the uninvited guests.
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