Short Story: The Repair Man's Special Service

 

Shell stood in the sunny kitchen of her neat little 1950s suburban home, the late morning light streaming through the lace curtains and catching the soft waves of her honey-blonde hair. A white fabric headband held the curls back from her face, letting a few loose tendrils frame her high cheekbones and the bright red of her lipstick. She wore her favorite navy-blue button-front dress, the one with the crisp white collar that lay flat against her collarbones and the matching white cuffs that trimmed the short sleeves. The fabric hugged her narrow waist before flaring into a full, pleated skirt that swayed just above her knees. Five dark buttons ran down the bodice, each one polished and gleaming. Underneath, against her smooth skin, she wore a delicate white lace-and-satin bra, cups edged in soft scalloped lace, the satin panels smooth and slightly translucent, and matching full-back panties of the same luxurious combination, the waistband sitting low on her hips and the lace panels covering her perfect little sexy bottom completely. Harold had left three days earlier for another sales trip, peddling vacuum cleaners across the state. The house felt too quiet without him. Shell was only twenty-two, married just over a year, and still carried a shy innocence about the bedroom. She wanted more, though. She wanted to learn, to feel, to explore, but Harold’s long absences left her restless and curious in ways she wasn’t sure how to satisfy. That morning the refrigerator had gone silent. No hum, no cool air. A week’s worth of milk, meat, and vegetables sat inside, already beginning to warm. Panic fluttered in her chest. A perfect housewife would never allow food to spoil. She dialed the repair service with trembling fingers, her voice soft and polite as she explained the emergency to the lovely sounding receptionist that took her call. An hour later the doorbell rang. The man who stood on the porch was nothing like the older, stocky repair man she had expected. He was young, maybe twenty-five, with short black hair neatly combed, a clean-shaven jaw, and a lean, muscular build that filled out his work shirt and trousers. His dark eyes flicked over her for just a second longer than necessary before he smiled politely. “Mrs. Heart? I’m here about the refrigerator.” Shell was a little flustered, still taken aback at her surprise at how young and handsome he was. She stepped aside, heart thudding. “You can call me…Shell…” she stammered a bit. Had he really made her forget her own name? “Please…come in. I’m so grateful you could come quickly. My husband’s away on business and…well, I don’t want everything to spoil.” Shell simultaneously wondered why she brought up Harold in that instant, felt a little guilty about how attracted she was to the repair man, but also remembered how disappointed she was at how little attention her husband had paid to her as of late. He pulled Shell out of her thought pattern when he said, “I’m Jesse.” She had already forgotten that she had given him leave to call her familiar. Shell simply smiled, still pretty nervous, and then turned to lead Jesse into the house. He followed her into the kitchen, toolkit in hand. Even thought it was obvious where the refrigerator was, Shell still presented it with a hand gesture, immediately feeling a little silly after doing so. Jesse smile at her and then quickly set about his work. Shell hovered nearby, arms folded beneath the white collar of her dress, watching the easy way his shoulders flexed as he knelt and reached into the machine. She normally would have disappeared into the living room to let a repair man do his work in peace, but she just could not bring herself to let Jesse out of her sight. In less than twenty minutes, the refrigerator hummed back to life. Jesse straightened his shirt and pants, wiped his hands on a rag, and turned to her. “All fixed. Compressor relay was shot. Should be good now. There is no charge. We’ll bill the company under warranty for you.” Shell exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank you so much. I was so worried.” Jesse didn’t move toward the door. Shell very easily understood the confident little smirk on Jesse’s face, though she was still surprised at his boldness. He leaned a hip against the kitchen table, studying her with open appreciation. “Anything else I can do for you while I’m here? Anything at all?” The question hung in the air, warmer than it should have been. Shell felt heat her cheeks blush. Any other repair man that had been to the house, she would have been enraged by such a question, but here she was, smitten. Shell had never flirted with a man who wasn’t her husband, well, at least since she had gotten married. Yet, the lonely ache between her legs, the restless nights, the way this young handsome stranger’s gaze lingered on the curve of her waist and the soft swell of her breasts beneath the navy-blue fabric made the words slip out before she could stop them. “I…I suppose there might be,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you’re not in a hurry.” Jesse stepped closer. The scent of clean soap and faint machine oil reached her. “Oh, I’m in no hurry,” Jesse smiled. Shell swooned a bit inside at that smile and without really thinking, leaned forward towards him. Their first kiss was hesitant on her part, hungry on his. His mouth claimed hers, tongue sliding past her red-painted lips. Shell moaned into it, inexperienced but eager, her hands rising to rest against the solid wall of his chest. When he turned her around and bent her gently over the edge of the kitchen table, she didn’t resist. She only gasped as he gathered the full skirt of her navy-blue dress and pushed it up over her hips, exposing the white lace-and-satin panties that covered her round bottom. No one had ever handled her like that, not even Harold, no boy she had been with before Harold. She was instantly wet. “Pretty panties,” Jesse murmured, fingers tracing the lace edges. The word “panties” hit her ears like electricity. Harold never called them panties, but hearing Jesse say that word set her on fire. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slowly peeled the panties down her thighs, letting them drop to her ankles. Cool air kissed her bare skin. She was already slick, her folds glistening. Jesse quickly freed himself from his trousers, thick and hard, and rubbed the head of his cock along her wet slit. No one had ever teased her pussy like that, well, except for her. Shell bit her lip, nerves and need tangled together. When Jesse pushed into her, stretching her tight, unused walls, a soft cry escaped her throat. Jesse was much bigger than Harold. He filled her completely, burying himself to the hilt in one slow thrust. “Oh…oh my…” Shell whispered with a gasp, fingers curling against the tabletop. Jesse began to move, steady and deep, each stroke dragging against places inside her that made her knees weaken. The kitchen filled with the wet sounds of their joining and the soft slap of his hips against her bare sexy little bottom. Shell’s breasts pressed against the table, the buttons of her dress digging lightly into the wood. Jesse reached around, cupped one soft mound through the fabric, and she pushed back to meet every thrust. The pleasure built quickly, sharper and stronger than anything she had managed alone in her bed through those lonely nights when Harold was away. When Jesse groaned and drove deep, flooding her with thick, hot pulses of cum, the sensation tipped her over. Shell came hard around him, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching as wave after wave of bright, unfamiliar ecstasy rolled through her. “Oh, Jesse!” she cried out while he held her hips and emptied every drop into her welcoming hot wet newly awakend pussy. Jesse kept his hard cock inside Shell for a long moment, breathing hard. Then he eased out. His seed immediately began to trickle down the inside of her thighs. Shell turned, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with new hunger. Without a word she sank to her knees on the linoleum floor. She had never even contemplated the most remote possibility of doing such a thing before. Harold had asked her more than a few times over this first year of their marriage, but she just could never bring herself to even consider it with him. But with here and now with Jesse, she could feel herself craving having that big cock wet with her pussy juices and his cum in her mouth. Shell’s small fair hands with their bright red polished long nails trembled as she took his still-hard cock and guided it to her red painted lips. Shell licked experimentally at the head, tasting herself mixed with his cum, then opened her mouth and took him inside. Shell sucked carefully at first, learning the weight of him on her tongue, the way he pulsed inside her mouth. Shell’s inexperience only seemed to excite Jesse more. He stroked her hair, careful of the white headband, moaning as she grew bolder, taking him deeper, swirling her tongue, bobbing her head with growing confidence. When Jesse warned her he was close to coming again, she didn’t pull away. She looked up at him with longing eyes, sealed her sexy little red lips around him, and hungrily swallowed every thick spurt of his second load, the warm, salty flood sliding down her throat until he was spent. Afterward, Jesse helped her to her feet. Shell’s legs were unsteady. She looked at the strong body still half-dressed in front of her and decided she wasn’t finished. Shell guided him down onto the kitchen floor, straddling his hips so that her bare, cum-slick pussy rested against his reawakening cock. She expertly slid back and forth on that big cock until it was fully hard again. Shell began unbuttoning the navy-blue dress from the top. One by one the dark buttons slipped free, revealing the white lace-and-satin bra beneath. The cups were sheer enough to show the pink of her nipples. She reached behind her back, unclasped the bra, and let it fall away. Her full, soft breasts spilled free into the open air. Jesse’s hands rose immediately, cupping and kneading them, thumbs brushing the stiff peaks. Feeling that Jesse was once again fully hard, Shell lifted herself, positioned the head of his cock at her entrance, and sank down slowly until he was buried inside her again. Shell rode him with rising abandon, rolling her hips, bouncing gently, letting him suck and lick at her nipples while she braced her hands on his chest. The second orgasm built slower, deeper. When it broke, she threw her head back, blonde curls tumbling, and came with a long, shuddering moan, her pussy milking him greedily. Jesse followed soon after, adding another warm rush of cum inside her. She marveled at how after one small little load Harold was spent for the night. Jesse had so easily delivered three full loads. Shell and Jesse stayed in that position for a bit, just looking at each other, smiling. Then, Shell collapsed on the floor next to him, beautiful breasts still out, cum trailing out of her. As they both caught their breath on the cool floor, Jesse brushed a curl from Shell’s cheek. “That was a wonderful afternoon, Mrs. Heart,” he said, voice low and sincere. “If you need anything, anything at all, whenever your husband’s away, you just call. I’ll come right over.” Shell smiled, red lips with smeared lipstick still swollen from their kisses, the white collar of her dress open and her bare breasts rising and falling with each breath. For the first time in a long while the restless ache inside her felt quieted…and yet…newly awakened at the same time. “Do you have any open appointment times tomorrow?” Shell asked…

Short Story: On-Set Doppelgängers in White Lace

 

The trailers sat side by side on the dusty backlot, identical white boxes under the California sun. Inside the first, Monica Anne adjusted the long black hair that framed her fair face. She stood before the mirror in the full costume the wardrobe department had laced her into that morning. The dress was pure white, off-the-shoulder with ruffled sleeves, a layer of delicate lace cascading over the bodice. The neckline plunged, the fabric deliberately cut to lift and display the heavy swell of her large breasts, the soft upper curves pushed high by the rigid Victorian corset beneath. The corset itself was bone-stiff, ivory silk over steel, cinching her waist into a dramatic hourglass while forcing her cleavage into a prominent, almost indecent display. Under the corset she wore a fine cotton chemise, thin enough that the dark circles of her nipples pressed faintly against the fabric when she moved. White silk drawers, open at the crotch in the authentic period style, covered her hips, and sheer white stockings were gartered high on her thighs. A large feathery white headband crowned her head and a delicate white lace choker encircled her neck. The only personal touch: silver thin but large hoop earrings that caught the light when she turned. A soft knock at her trailer door. “Monica Anne? They’re ready for you on the set.” Across the way, Stephanie received the same summons. Her costume was identical. The same white ruffled Victorian gown with puffed sleeves, same dramatic cleavage, same rigid corset, chemise, open-crotched drawers, and stockings, except there was no lace choker, and her earrings were dangling silver discs, a gift from her mother. Stephanie’s long black hair was also a little puffier in front, and her feather headband was much more subtle, but the resemblance to the woman she had never met that was also being called to the set in the trailer across the way was uncanny. Two production assistants led them separately through the false-front Western town, up the wooden stairs of the saloon set, and into the second-floor bedroom. They arrived at the same moment. Monica Anne stopped short in the doorway. Stephanie did the same. For a long second they simply stared. Same height. Same black hair. Same pale skin. Same heavy, lace-framed breasts rising and falling with quickened breath. The dresses were mirror images; only the earrings, choker, and headbands differed, just slightly different enough to tell the two girls apart. “Oh my God,” Stephanie whispered. Monica Anne’s lips parted. “They said we looked alike… but this…” A quiet, almost electric recognition passed between them. Attraction, sudden and sharp, settled low in both their frames. The director’s voice cut through. “Ladies, take your places on the bed, please. Now, let’s remember that this is the first time these two characters have been alone together. There is instant attraction, but you’re both still filled with nervous energy.” Monica Anne and Stephanie sat side by side on the edge of the narrow iron-frame bed, skirts pooling around their stockinged legs. The camera rolled. The director called, “Action.” Monica Anne turned first, as the script required, voice soft and a little breathless. “You look…so pretty tonight. I keep staring.” Stephanie’s answer came lower, warmer than rehearsed. “You’re the one who’s pretty. That dress…the way it holds you.” Stephanie’s eyes dropped openly to Monica Anne’s cleavage, then lifted again, overdramatized for the cameras, but still genuine in their gaze. “I’ve wanted to touch you all evening,” Monica Anne said. The lines were supposed to stay light, teasing, leading into a careful, tasteful kiss and a fade out. A quick, but very loving scene. Instead, Monica Anne’s hand rose of its own accord and traced the lace edge of Stephanie’s bodice. Their faces were inches apart. The kiss that followed was not the subtle, sweet first kiss called for in the script. It was open-mouthed, hungry, tongues sliding together with a soft wet sound that the boom mic caught perfectly. Monica Anne made a long, soft moan into Stephanie’s mouth. Stephanie answered by cupping one of Monica’s full breasts through the ruffled fabric, squeezing, feeling the stiff peak of a nipple beneath chemise and corset. The director said nothing. No one called cut. Everyone on set was enthralled. Monica Anne and Stephanie kept kissing, harder now, hands roaming. Stephanie’s fingers found the hooks at the back of Monica’s dress and began working them free. Monica did the same, both of them suddenly frantic to get the layers off of each other. White lace peeled away. The heavy feathered headbands tumbled off their heads. Corset laces were yanked loose with impatient tugs. The rigid garments dropped, leaving them in thin chemises that clung to sweat-damp skin, nipples dark and obvious against the nearly transparent cotton. Monica Anne pushed Stephanie back onto the mattress and climbed over her, skirts still tangled around their legs. She dragged the chemise down, baring Stephanie’s large, pale breasts. The moment the cool air touched them, Monica Anne lowered her head and took one thick nipple into her mouth, sucking hard, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to make Stephanie arch and cry out. Monica Anne switched to the other breast, wet sucking sounds filling the quiet set while her hand slid between Stephanie’s thighs, finding the open crotch of the silk drawers already soaked. Stephanie’s hips jerked. The girls forgot the cameras. Forgot the crew standing frozen around the edges of the room. Monica Anne shoved the drawers aside and pressed her mouth lower, dragging her tongue up the slick seam of Stephanie’s pussy in one long, greedy lick. Stephanie’s thighs opened wider. Monica Anne sealed her lips around the swollen clit and sucked, two fingers sliding easily into the hot, clenching heat. The wet sounds of Monica Anne’s mouth and the soft, rhythmic squelch of her fingers were unmistakable. Stephanie came first, trembling, thighs locking around Monica Anne’s head as she moaned with pleasure. The second the tremors eased she flipped them, stripping Monica Anne’s remaining undergarments with shaking hands, chemise and drawers discarded. Stephanie buried her face between Monica Anne’s legs the same way, tongue plunging deep, then dragging up to flutter over the clit while she sucked one of Monica’s heavy breasts into her mouth at the same time, alternating between the stiff nipple and the dripping cunt. Monica Anne’s hands fisted in Stephanie’s black hair. “Don’t stop…please don’t stop,” Monica Anne moaned. The two girls then sixty-nined without discussion, bodies reversing so each could bury her face between the other’s thighs. Mouths worked in wet, hungry rhythm, tongues fucking deep, lips sealed around clits, fingers thrusting in tandem. The taste of each other was sharp and sweet, the sounds were filthy, slick, continuous. When Monica Anne came again, she did it with Stephanie’s tongue buried inside her and Stephanie’s own orgasm rolling through at the same moment, both of them shaking, thighs quivering, soft cries muffled against wet flesh. The two actresses stayed locked together long after the last tremor, still licking slowly, almost lazily, as if they could not bear to stop tasting. Only then did the director’s voice, faintly stunned, finally call, “Cut.” Neither girl moved right away as they both remembered they were on set, and they both came to the realization of what they had turned a cute and sweet, loving first kiss scene into. Monica Anne lifted her head just enough to meet Stephanie’s dazed, light brown eyes. Their identical black hair was ruined, mouths shiny, lipstick smeared, breasts marked with the faint red of each other’s mouths. Stephanie smiled first, small and wicked. “I think we just rewrote the scene,” Stephanie smiled. Monica Anne laughed softly against her thigh, then leaned up and kissed her again, slow and deep, the cameras still rolling even though the director had called the scene…

Short Story: Monica Anne's Pattaya Gangbang

 

Monica Anne stood in the center of the dimly lit, neon-drenched alleyway in Pattaya, the humid Thai night wrapping around her like a second skin. It was just past 2 AM, and the clubs and bars were finally winding down, their bass thumps fading into distant echoes. She wore a sparkly hot pink bikini with royal blue trim that clung to her slender yet curvy body, the tiny triangles of the top barely containing her large, full breasts, cleavage deep and glistening a little, her flat stomach smooth and toned. The hourglass of her figure was unmistakable, her hips perfectly shaped, the gap in her thighs, inviting. Long black hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders. Rectangular glasses with thin black frames sat on her nose, and a pair of large glittery royal blue mouse ears perched playfully on her head. A sparkling choker glittered at her throat. Sparkly royal blue platform high heels elongated her legs. Pink heart-shaped balloons bobbed nearby, neon signs glowed, and other young women in tiny summer dresses lingered, chatting and laughing under the warm pink-and-blue haze. Monica Anne had come to Thailand for modeling work, a few shoots along the coast, but tonight the restless energy of Pattaya had pulled her out into the streets from her lonely hotel room. Her body still hummed from the humid air and the leftover pulse of the nightlife. She was about to turn and go back to her hotel, feeling a little saddened that nothing too eventful had occurred so far on this, her last night in Thailand. But then, five very fit, very handsome young men appeared at the mouth of the alley, rounding the corner. Monica Anne had heard there was a large contingent of U.S. Navy sailors in Pattaya that weekend, but had yet to see hide nor hair of them, and while these sexy young men were in civilian clothes, it was very clear who they were. Short hair, broad builds, the easy swagger of men on shore leave. They moved with the loose confidence of guys looking for trouble or pleasure, or both. Monica Anne looked over towards the five sexy boys as they most definitely noticed her and the sexy little outfit she had put on earlier that night with the very real intention of getting noticed. The sailor that approached her first was tall, maybe six-two, with a strong jaw, close-cropped blond hair, and pale blue eyes that caught the neon. “Hi,” he said, smiling. “My name is Jake.” He had a deep voice and southern draw that was music to Monica Anne’s ears. He wore a tight black t-shirt stretched across a muscular chest and thick arms, his jeans sat low on lean hips. He looked Monica Anne up and down slowly, openly appreciative. “I’m Monica Anne,” she smiled back. “Damn,” Jake said, “you look like you stepped straight out of a fantasy.” While Monica Anne was usually pretty hardened against cheesy pick-up lines, she could tell she was blushing and looking away a little with shyness, but could also feel that unmistakable heat low in her belly. Monica Anne could tell she was already starting to secrete some wetness in her sexy little pink sparkly bikini bottoms. She breathed in his scent. He smelled clean and masculine, a hint of cologne and sea air. His body was hard, the kind of hot that made her thighs press together a little white standing there in the alleyway. Jake grinned, flirty and direct. “We’re having a little private party back at our hotel, Monica Anne. Just us. You should come. I promise it’ll be worth your while.” The other four sexy boys waited a few steps back, watching intently, waiting to see her reaction. A little unlike her, but at the same time given the five-to-one ratio, Monica Anne hesitated. She was alone, it was late, and five strangers was a lot. But Jake’s body, the way his eyes stayed on her breasts and the hot wetness already gathering between her legs, all made the decision for her. The more Jake looked her up and down, the wetter her pussy was getting. “Okay,” Monica said softly, giving in. “Lead the way.” Without another word, Jake reached down and took Monica Anne by the hand, interlacing his fingers with hers and headed in the direction Monica Anne was coming from, the other four boys following closely behind them. Fortunately, though, as her feet were getting a little tired from wearing those big sexy blue high heels all night, the boys’ hotel was only a short walk. The room Jake led her into was simple, two big beds, soft lighting, the air conditioner humming. The four boys all followed in behind them, even though there was no way all five were staying in this one room from the looks of it. The room was dimly lit, though Jake released her hand and turned on the lights as soon as they walked in. Monica Anne stopped right where Jake had released her hand. There was no one else in the room, no music, definitely no party. Just the five sexy boys and the heavy click of the door locking behind her. Jake turned and made his way back to Monica Anne after having turned on the lights, still smiling but now with a different intensity. Before Monica Anne could even ask, Jake said, “Truth is, there’s no party. It’s always been my fantasy…to be part of a full gangbang. Me and my boys, and one girl who can take it. After seeing how amazing you looked tonight, and it being so obvious that you dressed like this tonight because you were out looking for a good time, I was hoping you’d be the girl to indulge me, Monica Anne. You definitely look like you could handle us.” Monica Anne’s heart hammered faster. She’d been in a threesome with two guys while traveling for her sorority, but she’d never done anything like this before. Sure, she had seen videos of gangbangs, even masturbated to them, but just minutes ago, she had no idea she’d be entertaining such a thing in real life. She felt should have left, but instead, her nipples hardened against the sparkly bikini top and a fresh rush of wetness soaked the crotch of the bottoms. Monica Anne came to the realization that she was already too far gone, too horny, the image of all those hard bodies too vivid to refuse. Five insanely fit men, five hard cocks. She was confident she could handle it, just like Jake had said “Yes,” Monica Anne breathed out, almost panting already from the rush of what she was about to do. “I want you boys.” Instantly, they closed in around her. The first place Monica Anne looked was to Jake’s crotch, where she saw he was already tenting his jeans. “Marcus,” the next boy said, smiling as he approached her. Marcus had darker skin, shaved head, heavy shoulders and a broad chest, quiet intensity in his dark eyes. “Tyler” the next boy smiled as he approached her. Tyle was lean and athletic, messy brown hair, a cocky grin, tattoos snaking down one arm. Half way through these little quick introductions, Monica Anne was realizing quite well that these boys were out that late looking for a girl like her for this very specific reason. There was way too much method, was too much obvious rehearsal to this already. “Chris,” the next boy said. He was the stockiest, short black hair, powerful thighs, a thick neck and a deep voice. He looked like he could pick Monica Anne up and twirl her around with no effort at all. Finally, “Lucas,” the last boy said. He was olive-skinned, black hair cropped tight, sharp cheekbones, the youngest-looking of the five, to Monica Anne, the most attractive, and by the looks of the front of his jeans, already completely hard. The boys undressed her only enough to free what they needed. The sparkly hot pink bikini stayed on, the bottoms yanked to the side, the top shoved up so her large tits spilled free, the blue mouse ears still perched on her head, glasses still on, high heels still strapped to her feet. The choker glittered at her throat as they put her on her knees between the two beds. Monica Anne was puddy in their hands at this point. She resolved to let the boys lead the way. Jake’s cock was the first in her mouth, thick, veined, already leaking. Monica Anne opened wide and took him deep, tongue swirling, while Marcus stepped behind her, pulled the bikini bottoms aside, and buried his face between her cheeks, licking her dripping pussy from clit to asshole until she moaned around Jake’s shaft. Tyler and Chris stroked themselves on either side. Lucas waited his turn, eyes dark with hunger, but enjoying the scene before him as he stroked his cock. The boys moved her onto all fours on the bed. Jake stayed in her mouth while Marcus sank his thick cock into her pussy in one long thrust, stretching her open. Marcus was fucking huge. Monica Anne was spit-roasted hard, Jake fucking her face with steady strokes while Marcus pounded her from behind with his massive dick, the wet slap of skin filling the room. Monica Anne’s large breasts swung beneath her, the bikini top still pushed up. She was surprised at how quickly she came the first time, literally in less than a minute, pussy clenching hard around Marcus’s massive cock while she gagged softly on Jake, spit trailing down her chin onto the sparkling choker. The boys rotated without pause. Tyler took her mouth, long and slightly curved, while Chris, stocky and powerful, drove into her cunt with heavy, deep strokes that made her moan continuously. Marcus was huge and pounded her hard, but Chris knew how to fuck. He was playing her pussy like an instrument. Two more orgasms, right after each other. How was this even possible? How did she cum three times so quickly? Is this why the porno girls did this? Fuck, it felt so good. She was lost in it all. Tyler was still fucking Monica Anne’s sweet red lips, and Chris apparently had her on her way to a fourth orgasm when she came to the realization that Lucas was lubing his cock with his spit with the very clear intention of getting into her tight little asshole. There was no thought, only anticipation. Monica Anne took Tyler out of her mouth just long enough to look back at Chris with such lust in her eyes, then over to Lucas as she said, “Double penetrate me like the whore I am.” Without hesitation, Lucas’s cock was filling her ass, sliding in slow and steady as Chris pumped her pussy with quick thrusts. The sensation was amazing. It was like nothing Monica Anne had ever felt. Three cocks in her, all at the same time, all pumping with different speeds and intensity, but somehow still absolutely perfect. Monica Anne marveled at how it felt to have Chris’s cock and Lucas’s cock literally sliding back and forth against each other inside of her. Monica Anne came again almost immediately, body shaking, glasses slipping down her nose, high heels digging into the mattress as she pushed back onto both of them. It was a blur of passion and multiple orgasms. Monica Anne lost count. The boys all took turns plowing into her three holes. They kept her full. Jake returned to her mouth while Marcus and Tyler took turns in her pussy and ass. She was spit-roasted again, then double-penetrated again, this time Marcus in her cunt and Tyler in her ass while she sucked Chris and stroked Lucas with both hands. Monica Anne’s filthy bikini bottoms remained shoved to the side, the sparkly fabric soaked and darkened. Every thrust made her large breasts bounce, every time someone pinched or sucked a nipple, she clenched all three holes harder. Each orgasm was rolling through her longer and wetter than the last, juices running down her thighs onto the sheets, high heels still on, mouse ears having fallen off and laying on the bed. Time blurred. Orgasms ran together. The boys used every hole, switching positions constantly, her on her back with legs spread wide in the air, heels pointing at the ceiling while two cocks stretched her open; on her side in a messy sandwich; bent over the edge of the bed while one fucked her throat and another took her from behind. Her glasses fogged and slipped but somehow stayed on. The choker stayed glittering at her throat. Monica Anne had no idea if it had been twenty minutes or two hours, but in all honesty, she was pretty sure it had been hours that they boys had spent taking turns in her three holes, coming in her then resting, then coming back for more. She had no idea how many loads she had swallowed, how many loads had shot deep into her ass, how many loads had flooded her pussy. Being the cum whore she was, not a single drop escaped her mouth, but there was so much cum dripping out of her pussy and ass at the same time. As Monica Anne could tell the boys were finally winding down and she was beyond the point of exhaustion, she realized what a tangled mess it would be if her birth control didn’t do its job and she ended up with one of these boys’ baby or babies inside of her. But, then, the boys pulled her away from that thought as together they pulled her to the edge of the bed, sitting her up, sweaty, makeup smeared everywhere, bikini disheveled and even torn in some places, her ass and pussy dripping on to the bed, and then stood in a tight semicircle around her. Monica Anne spread her legs and somehow was still horny enough to reach down and vigorously stroke her clit like a porn star, taking in the sight of her sweaty, soaked body, her tattered sparkly pink bikini, and those big blue fuck me heels. Her large tits were flushed and shiny with sweat and spit. Her nipples were rock hard. All five cocks were stiff, glistening, and aimed at her face and chest. Somehow, she was still not spent, her own fingers about to give her yet another orgasm. “Fuck…I’m gonna come,” Monica Anne gasped. “Oh my God, I’m such a fucking whore.” And it was on the word whore that she came again, literally squirting a massive shot of pussy juices all over the edge of the bed, the floor, and Lucas who was stroking right in front of her. “All of you,” Monica Anne pleaded, still vigorously rubbing her clit, “come on me like I’m in a gangbang video.” The boys stroked faster. Jake came first, thick ropes of cum striping across her glasses, her open mouth, her smeared red lips, and the tops of her breasts. Marcus followed immediately, painting her cheek and the sparkling choker. Tyler aimed lower, covering her cleavage and the sparkly pink bikini top. Chris and Lucas finished together, heavy pulses landing on her tongue, her chin, and the soft undersides of her tits. Monica Anne continued playing with herself, now thrusting three fingers inside of her wet cunt feverishly as she felt the hot cum dripping down her body, coating her hard nipples, sliding between her breasts, some of it reaching the soaked crotch of her bikini. Monica Anne kept fingering, eyes rolling back, and came one last time, hard, shaking, moaning openly while the five sailors watched their combined loads drip from her face and tits. Her fingers stayed buried in her dripping pussy until the aftershocks finally faded. Monica Anne stayed there for a long moment, breathing hard, covered in their fluids, the neon night still faintly visible through the hotel curtains, the sparkly bikini and high heels still on, the taste of all five men thick on her tongue. “Fuck, boys,” she breathed out so hard as she fell back on to the bed. “That was fucking amazing…”

Short Story: Red Satin Sisters

 

Monica Anne had grown up under the California sun, her long wavy black hair always smelling faintly of ocean salt and expensive shampoo. Stephanie had arrived from New York with the same glossy black waves, the same sharp eye for cut and fabric, and the same quiet obsession with designing lingerie that felt like armor and invitation at once. In the Alpha Omega Sorority House, they had found each other almost immediately, two girls recruited the summer between their freshman and sophomore years who talked fabric weights and lace tensions the way other girls talked about boys. By the second week they were sharing a room, sketchbooks open on the same desk, red satin swatches pinned to the walls, Monica Anne and Stephanie decided a contest was the only way to settle their little disagreement over who was the better designer. That night, each girl would design and sew a complete red satin set, a bra and a thong, then model it for the other. They each felt they would clearly be the winner. They agreed on no peeking and no comparing notes. It had to be a completely blind contest. The winner would be decided by how the other reacted when the bathroom door opened and each girl revealed their design. They felt they would immediately know who won. Naturally, both girls made quick work of designing and sewing, and within a couple of hours, Monica Anne found herself locked in the shared bathroom with her finished pieces. The bra cups were structured yet soft, deep red satin that clung and lifted, pushing her large, full breasts into significant cleavage that spilled just enough over the top. The straps were delicate, the underwire precise. The matching thong was a narrow triangle of the same gleaming fabric in front, the back a thin satin string that disappeared between the firm cheeks of her ass. She stepped into it, adjusted, smoothed, and looked at herself in the mirror: fair skin glowing under the warm light, bold red lipstick already on, dramatic eye makeup making her light brown eyes look almost luminous. Large red circular earrings brushed her neck. The silver necklace with its round stones rested in the valley of her cleavage. With a smile, with as much drama as she could muster, Monica Anne opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the bedroom. Stephanie was already standing in the middle of their dimly lit room, a single candle in a brass holder throwing a soft gold glow across the muted brown walls. Stephanie wore an identical set. Same deep red satin bra molding the same generous, toned breasts into the same dramatic cleavage. Same tiny thong framing the same smooth, fair skin. Same long wavy black hair tumbling over bare shoulders. Same red lips, same dramatic eyes, same red circular earrings, same silver necklace. They stared. Monica Anne’s breath left her in a soft, shocked laugh. “You…you made the exact same thing!” Stephanie’s voice was husky. “So did you!” They stepped closer until their bodies almost touched, heads tilting toward each other the way the candlelight seemed to encourage. The satin of their bras brushed. Monica Anne felt the heat of Stephanie’s skin, smelled the faint citrus of her perfume mixed with clean girl-scent. Something settled between them, quiet, certain, inevitable. “We’re meant for this,” Monica Anne whispered. Stephanie answered by sliding a hand up Monica Anne’s side, fingers tracing the edge of her red satin bra. “Show me how much,” Stephanie smiled. Their first kiss was slow and deep, red lips parting, tongues meeting with deliberate wet heat. Monica Anne’s hands found the clasp of Stephanie’s bra and unhooked it. The cups fell away, freeing heavy, perfect breasts with tight, rose-colored nipples already hard. Stephanie did the same to Monica Anne. Soft flesh pressed together, satin sliding to the floor. They kept the thongs on for a moment longer, grinding the damp fronts against each other while their hands explored, cupping, squeezing, thumbs circling nipples until both girls were breathing hard. Monica Anne dropped to her knees first. She hooked her fingers in the sides of Stephanie’s thong and peeled it down, revealing the smooth, already glistening folds of her wet pussy. Stephanie’s scent rose rich and sweet. Monica Anne leaned in and licked a long, slow swipe from the bottom of her slit to the swollen clit, then sealed her mouth over it and sucked. Juice immediately coated Monica Anne’s tongue, warm, slippery, abundant. She pushed two fingers inside while she licked, curling them, feeling Stephanie’s walls flutter and clench. More wetness flooded out, running down Monica Anne’s chin, dripping onto her own breasts. Stephanie’s hands tangled in Monica Anne’s hair. “Fuck…your mouth…don’t stop…” Monica Anne didn’t. She ate Stephanie with a focused hunger, tongue flicking the clit in tight circles, then flat and broad, then spearing deep into the dripping hole to scoop out more of that sweet cream. Stephanie’s thighs trembled. A fresh rush of juice spilled over Monica Anne’s tongue and she moaned into the wet heat, swallowing what she could, letting the rest shine on her lips and chin. When Stephanie came, it was with a loud cry, hips jerking, pussy pulsing hard around Monica Anne’s fingers and flooding her mouth again. Monica Anne kept licking through it, gentle now, cleaning every drop until Stephanie pulled her up for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss that tasted of pure sex. They switched. Stephanie pushed Monica Anne onto the bed, yanked the matching red thong aside, and buried her face between her legs. Monica Anne was already soaked. The moment Stephanie’s tongue touched her, a thick trickle of clear juice slid out. Stephanie lapped it up greedily, humming, spreading Monica Anne’s lips with her thumbs so she could see everything, pink, swollen, shiny. Stephanie sucked the clit between her lips, flicked it hard, then drove her tongue deep inside, fucking Monica Anne with it while two fingers rubbed firm circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Monica Anne’s hips rolled, more juice pouring out, coating Stephanie’s cheeks, running down to the sheets. Stephanie drank it, chased every stream, and when Monica Anne came, she did it with a long, shuddering moan, thighs clamping around Stephanie’s head, wet pussy spasming and releasing another warm gush that Stephanie eagerly swallowed. The girls rested only long enough to fetch the toys from the bottom drawer. The double-sided dildo was thick, ridged, the same deep red as their discarded satin. They both got on their hands and knees on the bed, asses toward each other, backs arched. Monica Anne reached back and guided one end into her own dripping pussy. Stephanie did the same with the other end. They pushed until the middle of the toy pressed between their cheeks, then began to rock against each other. Every thrust forward forced the thick shaft deeper into both of them at once. Wet sounds filled the room, slick, rhythmic, filthy. Juice ran down their inner thighs in continuous shiny trails, dripping onto the sheets. They looked over their shoulders at each other, faces flushed, red lips parted, eyes locked. Monica Anne reached back and spread Stephanie’s ass cheeks so she could watch the toy disappear into her glistening hole. Stephanie then did the same. The sight made both of them clench harder. They fucked the shared cock harder, asses bumping, the double dildo pistoning in and out of two equally soaked, greedy wet pussies until both girls came again almost together, long, rolling orgasms that sent fresh floods of cream sliding down the shaft and onto the bed. They didn’t stop. Stephanie strapped on the large black dildo next. It was heavy, thick, veined, the base snug against her own still-throbbing clit. Monica Anne got on her back, legs spread wide, red lipstick smeared, eyes shining. Stephanie lined up and pushed in slowly, watching every inch stretch Monica Anne’s pink, swollen lips. When she bottomed out, Stephanie stayed there a moment, grinding, then started fucking her in deep, steady strokes. The wet slap of skin on skin was loud. Monica Anne’s juice coated the black shaft completely, frothing a little at the base with every thrust. Stephanie leaned down and kissed her while she fucked, tongues sliding, breasts pressed together. She reached between them and rubbed Monica Anne’s clit in tight circles until Monica Anne came hard around the thick black cock, walls milking it, more clear fluid squirting out around the shaft and soaking Stephanie’s thighs. The girls switched the harness. Monica Anne fucked Stephanie just as thoroughly, first on her back, then from behind, one hand on Stephanie’s hip, the other reaching around to stroke her clit. The big black cock disappeared again and again into Stephanie’s dripping cunt. Juice ran in steady rivulets down Stephanie’s legs. Monica Anne talked to her the whole time, voice soft and loving, “You’re so wet for me…look how you take my big black cock…we’re the same, baby, we’re the same.” Stephanie shuddered with a cry, pussy clamping, another rush of cream coating the toy and Monica Anne’s hand. The girls collapsed together afterward, the strap-on still half-buried, bodies sticky and shining with each other’s juices. The candle had burned lower. Their identical red satin sets lay tangled on the floor. Monica Anne traced Stephanie’s lower lip with a fingertip, then kissed her slow and deep. “I think we both won,” Monica Anne murmured, smiling. Stephanie returned the smile, legs still wrapped around her. “We were always going to,” Stephanie sighed. The girls stayed like that long into the night, kissing, touching, tasting the salt and sweetness still on each other’s skin, two girls who had designed the exact same red satin secret and then spent the night proving they belonged inside it together…

Short Story: Fiancées on Display

 

Taylor stood on the balcony in a very sexy little pink shiny nylon thong bikini, feeling the warm sun and soft tropical breeze against her back and beautiful, exposed ass cheeks as her arms stretched forward, wrapped around her fiancée Brittany’s trim little waist. Brittany, in a dark green satin cheeky bikini that was every bit as sexy, interlaced her fingers into Taylor’s then looked back over her shoulder. Brittany gave Taylor a coy little smile, but Taylor’s face remained serious and in thought. Brittany shook Taylor’s hands a little and asked with concern, “What’s wrong, baby?” Taylor looked into Brittany’s oval shaped hazel eyes, biting her bottom lip a little in thought. “What?...” Brittany asked again. “When are we going to tell your parents?” Taylor asked, trying to concentrate less on the fact that she could feel Brittany’s firm butt in that dark green satin cheeky bikini generating warmth as it pressed against the front of her own tight pink sparkly nylon bikini. Brittany smirked a little and purposely pressed her butt into Taylor a little harder. Brittany loved teasing Taylor that way. “Tell them what?” Brittany asked, still looking over her shoulder into Taylor’s beautiful, big blue eyes. “Brittany!” Taylor snapped back, laughing. “Tell your parents that we got engaged on this trip!” Brittany chuckled a bit. “Gotcha,” she said softly. “You’re the worst,” Taylor retorted, followed quickly with, “Brittany, I am serious. I want to get married and we can’t have the wedding without your parents there.” Brittany’s smile softened as she turned fully in Taylor’s arms and wrapped her own arms around Taylor, the dark green strapless bikini top straining against her sexy, perfect little breasts. Taylor could not help but look down at the sight of their beautiful breasts pressed together in those sexy little bikini tops, Brittany’s in dark green satin and her own in sexy sparkly pink nylon. Brittany noticed Taylor’s eyes trail down and looked down herself. The thin fabric of their sexy little bikini tops sexily cupped both sets of beautiful breasts and their long, straight sandy blonde hair brushed together in the warm tropical breeze, framing those sexy little breasts perfectly. Behind them, the white balcony railing overlooked palm fronds and a neighboring building, the afternoon sun painting everything in golden light. “I know, baby,” Brittany murmured, sliding her hands down from behind Taylor’s back to her hips, fingers slipping under the edge of the tight pink sparkly nylon thong bottoms. “We’ll tell them soon. Right now, I just want to enjoy this…you, me, this balcony, this hotel, this vacation.” Brittany leaned in and kissed Taylor slowly, tongues meeting in a wet, deliberate dance. Taylor’s hands rose to cup Brittany’s breasts through the green satin fabric, thumbs circling the hardening nipples until Brittany moaned into her mouth. Neither of them noticed at first that their next-door neighbors, three very sexy young girls, had stepped out onto the adjacent balcony. All three women wore skimpy bikinis of their own, a very sexy skinny blonde with long beautiful hair in a barely-there red string set, a very fit and curvy Asian girl with long black hair in a white micro bikini that left almost nothing to the imagination, and a voluptuous thick and curvy Latina with long brown hair in a black satin thong bikini that framed her very large breasts and big firm ass perfectly. Having immediately noticed Taylor and Brittany engaged in such a hot, sexy kiss when they stepped out onto their balcony, the three girls leaned against the railing facing the kissing girls, openly watching, lips parted, eyes bright with interest. Taylor and Brittany continued to kiss passionately, eyes closed, but them, as Brittany opened her eyes when she felt Taylor’s fingers slip beneath the front of her green bottoms and tease along her already slick folds, she noticed the three sets of eager eyes on them. “They’re watching us,” Brittany whispered against Taylor’s lips, her voice was thick with arousal rather than concern. Taylor opened her eyes and looked to the side, seeing their little audience for the first time.  “Then, let’s give them a little show,” she said, not exactly sure how Brittany was going to react. “OK, baby,” Brittany smirked. Taylor then watched through wide eyes as Brittany sank to her knees right there on the balcony tiles, peeling Taylor’s pink sparkly nylon bikini bottoms down her long legs until they dropped around her ankles. Taylor’s bare, sexy ass and swollen pussy came into view, pink, wet, the inner lips already shiny. Brittany didn’t waste a second. She leaned in and dragged her tongue in a long, slow lick from the bottom of Taylor’s slit all the way up to her clit, savoring the sweet-salty taste. Taylor’s head fell back, a soft cry escaping her mouth as Brittany’s tongue worked deeper. Brittany spread Taylor’s lips with her thumbs, exposing the glistening entrance, then pushed her tongue inside, fucking her with slow, deliberate strokes. The wet sounds of pussy-eating carried clearly across the short distance to the neighboring balcony. The young blonde in the red bikini had already slipped a hand between her own thighs, rubbing slow circles over her covered clit. The pretty Asian girl in the white bikini had pulled her white top aside, pinching a stiff nipple while she stared. The hot curvy Latina in the black thong bikini had pulled her top away from her gorgeous, very large breasts and was playing with them very contentedly. Both Taylor and Brittany were definitely concentrating on their love making, but were also stealing glances over to the three girls to watch them enjoying the little performance they were putting on for them. Brittany continued to lick and suck with hunger, her tongue flattening against Taylor’s clit before circling it in tight, wet spirals. Brittany moaned into the soft flesh, the vibration making Taylor’s hips jerk. Taylor’s fingers tangled in Brittany’s long, sandy blonde hair, holding her there as Brittany ate her with long, messy strokes, lips glistening, chin shining with Taylor’s arousal. “Fuck, Brittany…your tongue feels so good,” Taylor gasped, loud enough for the girls on the other balcony to hear as she rocked against Brittany’s face. Brittany pulled back just long enough to look up at Taylor, lips shiny, eyes brilliant. “You taste so fucking sweet,” Brittany called out, also ensuring the girls on the other balcony could clearly hear what she was saying. Then, Brittany dove back in, sucking Taylor’s clit between her lips while two fingers slid deep into her dripping hole, curling upward. The wet squelch of those fingers pumping in and out mixed with the soft gasps of the neighbors as all three played intently with their wet pussies. The blonde in red and the Asian girl in white were playing with their hands in their bikini bottoms, but the hot young Latina with the large breasts in the black thong had pulled her own bottoms far to the side and was fingering herself openly, eyes locked on Taylor and Brittany. Taylor’s thighs trembled. She reached down and yanked Brittany’s green satin top down, freeing her beautiful little breasts so she could pinch and roll Brittany’s hard nipples while she continued to devour her. Taylor then pulled up her pink shiny nylon bikini top, exposing her own perfect little tits, nipples hard in the breeze. Brittany stood suddenly, spun Taylor around so she faced the railing, and dropped to her knees once again, but this time, behind Taylor. Brittany spread Taylor’s cheeks and licked a slow path from her dripping pussy up to her tight little asshole, then back down, burying her face between Taylor’s thighs and eating her pussy from behind with loud, greedy sounds. Taylor gripped the white railing, knuckles white, moaning freely and quite loudly now. Brittany’s tongue plunged deep, then flicked rapidly over her clit from below. At this point, the thick Latina girl on the other balcony called out in a husky voice while rapidly fingering herself, “Don’t stop…keep eating that pretty little pussy.” Both the blonde in the red bikini and the Asian girl in the white bikini both moaned in agreement, their own fingers working faster under their bikini bottoms. Brittany then stood back up, turned Taylor back around toward her, and kissed her hard, sharing the taste of Taylor’s own cunt with her. Then, she smirked first at the girls on the other balcony, and then at Taylor as she guided Taylor down to her knees. Taylor peeled Brittany’s dark green satin cheeky bottoms the rest of the way off. Brittany’s pussy was soaked, her outer lips plump, her inner lips flushed and shiny. Taylor didn’t hesitate. She buried her face between Brittany’s thighs and began eating her with the same desperate hunger Brittany had shown her, long, flat licks, then pointed tongue fucking into her hole, then sucking hard on her clit while two fingers stretched her open. Brittany’s moans grew louder. She braced one hand on the railing and the other on Taylor’s head, grinding her wet cunt against Taylor’s eager mouth. All three of the girls on the other balcony had their bottoms pulled to the side at this point, all three fingering themselves passionately while they watched Taylor’s tongue disappear into Brittany’s wet little pussy again and again. The wet, filthy sounds of pussy-eating filled the air, soft slurps, quiet gasps, the occasional whimper when Taylor’s tongue hit just the right spot. Taylor licked deeper, faster, sucking Brittany’s clit between her lips and humming against it until Brittany’s thighs started to shake. “Baby, I’m gonna come on your tongue,” Brittany cried, almost in tears. Taylor only licked harder, fingers pumping, tongue swirling, until Brittany cried out and came hard, her pussy pulsing, flooding Taylor’s mouth with warm wetness. Taylor kept licking through every spasm, drinking Brittany’s juices down, then stood and kissed her again so Brittany could taste herself. And they weren’t finished yet. Taylor turned, planted her hands on the railing, and arched her back, presenting her still-dripping pussy. Brittany dropped behind Taylor once more and ate her from behind with long, thorough strokes, tongue and fingers working together until Taylor shattered, thighs quaking, a broken moan crying out as she came all over Brittany’s face. The girls on the other balcony watched every second, all three girls brining themselves to orgasm at the same time, their soft cries mixing with the Taylor and Brittany’s pleasure-filled moans. When the last tremors faded, Brittany rose and wrapped her arms around Taylor from behind, both of them still mostly naked, bikini tops shoved off of their perfect little breasts, bottoms discarded on the balcony floor. Taylor and Brittany and Taylor then faced each other, their breasts and still hard nipples pressed together, skin flushed, lips swollen and covered in sexy wetness from kissing and licking. The girls on the other balcony thanked Taylor and Brittany for letting them watch and slowly retreated indoors, dropping their own bikinis on their balcony floor as they headed inside, Brittany and Taylor both imaging what they were about to do. Alone again under the tropical sun, Brittany nuzzled Taylor’s neck. “Still worried about my parents?” Brittany whispered, laughing. Taylor giggled softly, breathless. “We can think about that later,” Taylor sighed. “Right now, I just want just keep tasting you.” Taylor’s hand then slid back between  Brittany’s thighs, once again slipping inside her fiancée’s beautiful wet little pussy…

Short Story: Spring Break - The Night We Ate Each Other Senseless

 

I could tell Josie wasn’t sure where to put her left hand as the girls turned around and looked over their shoulders at me while I stood there, taking their picture. But as soon as she placed it right where Angie’s right leg met her right butt check, I knew this was going to go exactly where I wanted it to go. “That’s a cute one!” I said, looking up from my phone after snapping the picture. Both Josie and Angie laughed. “You both have such pretty smiles!” I said, shaking my head, worried a bit that I was about to start dampening my own little black bikini bottoms right then and there. We had been playfully taking pictures next to the graffiti wall at the beach for just a couple of minutes but in that short time, Josie and Angie had gone from standing about a foot apart, awkwardly facing forward to quite willingly going along with my instructions to turn and show me their sexy butts while wrapping their arms around each other. I figured if I could get them this close in just a few minutes, imagine what I get them to do later that night when the three of us were in our hotel room. By the time the sun had dipped low and the three of us stumbled back into our shared hotel suite, sandy feet, salt-kissed skin, and the lingering heat of the day still clinging to us, I was soaked between my thighs. Josie, the long-haired brunette in the red string bikini, had been brushing against me all afternoon. Angie, the curvy blonde in royal blue, kept catching my eye with those knowing little smirks. The second the door clicked shut, I didn’t waste another second. I pushed Josie back against the wall and kissed her hard, tasting the faint salt on her lips. Angie pressed in behind me, her full breasts soft against my back, hands already sliding around to cup my tits through the thin fabric of my black bikini top. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting this all day,” Angie breathed against my ear, nipping at my ear lobe. We stripped off each other’s bikini tops in a tangle of strings and laughter that quickly turned into moans. Josie’s slim, toned body was all lean lines and fair skin; her small, perky breasts bounced as I yanked her top free. Angie’s heavier, soft tits spilled out of the blue triangles, nipples already hard. I dropped to my knees right there on the carpet, tugging Josie’s high-cut bottoms down her thighs. Her pussy was smooth, the outer lips plump and already glistening. I leaned in and dragged my tongue slowly up the entire length of her slit, from the tight little entrance all the way to the swollen peak of her clit. Josie gasped, fingers threading into my hair. “Oh god yes…” Josie moaned as I spread her open with both thumbs, staring at the slick, pink folds that parted so prettily. Her inner lips were delicate and shiny with arousal. I sealed my mouth over her and sucked, tongue swirling in tight circles around her clit before flattening and lapping broad, wet strokes through every fold. The taste of her was pure and salty-sweet; I moaned into her cunt and felt more of her juices flood my tongue. I pushed two fingers into her tight heat while I sucked harder on her clit, feeling the way her walls clenched and fluttered. Angie wasn’t content to watch. She dropped down behind me, yanked my little black bikini bottoms aside, and buried her face between my legs from behind. Her tongue, hot, thick, and greedy, dragged through my dripping slit. She licked me with long, thorough strokes, from my aching clit all the way back to my asshole and then forward again, over and over, until I was grinding back against her mouth. When she finally focused on my clit, she sucked it between her lips and flicked the tip of her tongue rapidly across the swollen bud while two of her fingers curled inside me. I kept eating Josie like I was starving. I licked deeper, tongue thrusting into her hole, fucking her with it while my nose pressed against her clit. Her hips jerked; she smeared her wetness all over my face. “Don’t stop…fuck, your tongue feels so good in my pussy,” Josie panted. I switched back to long, slow licks, savoring every inch: the soft outer lips, the slick inner folds, the way her clit pulsed under my tongue when I sucked it gently, then harder. Angie pulled away just long enough to drag Josie down onto the bed with us. We rearranged in a messy triangle of bare skin and hungry mouths. I ended up on my back with Josie’s thighs straddling my face, her dripping cunt hovering right above my mouth. I grabbed her ass and pulled her down, burying my face in her again. From this angle I could see everything, her pink, glistening hole, the way it winked and fluttered as I tongue-fucked it, the swollen clit begging for attention. I licked and sucked and drank every drop she gave me, moaning loudly into her pussy while Angie crawled between my spread legs. Angie’s mouth was pure sin. She spread my lips wide with her fingers and stared at my open, throbbing cunt for a long second before diving in. She licked me with filthy precision, long, flat strokes that started at my entrance and ended with a hard suck on my clit. Then she stiffened her tongue and fucked it in and out of me while her nose rubbed my clit. When she added fingers, she scissored them inside me, stretching me open so she could lick around them, tasting every part of me. The wet, filthy sounds of Angie eating my pussy filled the room. Josie ground down harder on my face, coating my chin and cheeks in her juices. I focused entirely on her clit, sucking it between my lips and lashing it with my tongue in fast, relentless flicks. Her thighs started to shake. “I’m gonna cum on your tongue…fuck, yes, eat my pussy, don’t stop,” Josie moaned as she came hard, pulsing against my mouth, a fresh gush of wetness flooding my tongue. I kept licking through it, softer now, savoring the way her clit twitched and her hole clenched over and over. The second she lifted off me, panting, I flipped Angie onto her back and shoved her thick thighs apart. Her pussy was even wetter than Josie’s, plumper outer lips, a darker pink inside, and so much cream that it coated her inner thighs. I dove in face-first, moaning at the rich, musky taste of her. I licked her slowly at first, mapping every fold with my tongue: the soft outer lips, the slick inner ones that parted so easily, the tight entrance that fluttered when I circled it. Then I sucked her clit into my mouth and worked it with firm, rhythmic pulls while two fingers pumped in and out of her soaked hole. Josie crawled over and started eating me at the same time, her tongue soft and eager. She licked me with long, loving strokes, then focused on my clit, sucking and swirling until my hips bucked. The three of us stayed locked together like that for what felt like hours, mouths and pussies trading places, tongues buried deep, fingers stretching and curling, faces shiny with each other’s juices. I came first under Josie’s mouth, thighs clamping around her head as my orgasm ripped through me in hard, pulsing waves. Angie followed seconds later, grinding her cunt against my tongue and crying out as she soaked my face. We didn’t stop. We just kept going. Josie rode Angie’s mouth while I licked Josie’s ass and pussy from behind, then Angie sat on my face while Josie ate her from the front, both of us working her clit and hole until she screamed again. By the time we finally collapsed in a sweaty, glistening pile, each of us had come multiple times, and our faces, thighs, and sheets were soaked with the evidence of how thoroughly we’d eaten each other out. The taste of their pussies still coated my tongue, and I already couldn’t wait to do it all over again…

Short Story: Sisterhood of the Night

 

The high-fashion studio in the heart of Paris buzzed with the controlled chaos of a major client shoot. Softboxes glowed, assistants darted with garment bags, and the photographer’s voice cut through the air in rapid French and English. Monica Anne and Stephanie stood center stage on a raised platform draped in black silk, the final looks of the day already clinging to their sweaty bodies. Monica Anne, the brunette, wore a deep emerald silk long party dress that plunged almost to her navel, the thin straps barely containing the full, heavy curves of her breasts. The fabric skimmed her toned waist and flared just enough over her hips to tease the long line of her thighs with every subtle shift. Just a hint of a very sexy red bra showed in the center of the dress’s open front. Her dark brown hair was braided in matching twin tails, the ends brushing the upper swells of her large, full breasts. The dress hugged every inch of her slender, athletic frame: narrow waist, gently rounded ass, long legs that seemed endless in the strappy green heels. Stephanie, the blonde, stood beside Monica Anne in the same exact dress, just in midnight-blue, her equally large breasts and sexy hips looking just as amazing, the same exact red bra showing in the plunging neckline, the same strappy heels on her feet, just in midnight-blue. Stephanie’s long golden hair was loose, but perfectly styled. “Closer,” the photographer called. “Hands on each other…playful, intimate. Sell the sisterhood of the night.” Monica Anne and Stephanie smiled at each other, then stepped in closer and closer until their bodies nearly touched. Stephanie’s fingers brushed Monica Anne’s waist as she adjusted a fold of fabric. The contact lingered a second too long, sliding just under the edge of the dress to the warm skin above Monica Anne’s hip. Monica Anne’s answering touch was “accidental” too, her palm skimming the outer curve of Stephanie’s breast as she pretended to straighten the front of her dress. The soft give of flesh under silk sent a spark straight between both their legs. Stephanie’s nipples now hardened visibly against the thin blue silk. Monica Anne’s breath quickened as she felt her red little thong already dampening. They held the pose for frame after frame, hands roaming just past professional, fingertips grazing the undersides of breasts, the small of backs, the upper slopes of asses. By the time the photographer finally called wrap, both girls were flushed, thighs pressed tightly together, the air between them thick with unspoken heat. The girls knew the client’s black limousine waited for them outside to take them to the hotel. They also knew they were supposed to go back to wardrobe to change, but Monica Anne took Stephanie’s hand and immediately headed toward the door. Stephanie wasn’t about to protest. The girls made their way out the door and right into the limo, sliding into the cool leather, still in the party dresses, makeup glowing under the soft interior lights. The partition was up. The driver already knew where they were going. Paris slid past the windows in a blur of evening lights and historic stone. Monica Anne’s knee pressed against Stephanie’s. “You look unreal in that dress,” Monica Anne murmured, voice soft. Her fingers traced idle circles on Stephanie’s bare thigh, inching higher with each pass until the tips brushed the hem. Stephanie didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned and let her own hand rest high on Monica Anne’s leg, thumb stroking the inner seam of the emerald silk. “You’re one to talk,” Stephanie whispered back. “I could feel you every time you touched me. My nipples are still hard.” Stephanie demonstrated by shifting so the stiff peaks dragged against the fabric. Monica Anne’s eyes sharpened. She leaned in until their mouths were a breath apart, but she didn’t close the distance, only let her fingers slide a fraction higher, feeling the heat radiating from Stephanie’s core. The two girls stayed like that the entire ride: flirty, handsy, thighs pressed, soft laughs and loaded glances, both growing wetter by the minute, neither quite daring to cross the final line inside the moving car. When the limo arrived at the hotel, the girls didn’t wait for the driver, opening the door for themselves and hurrying inside, holding hands once again, Monica Anne leading the way. As soon as the front desk clerk at the cute little boutique hotel saw them, he motioned for them to come over. “Mesdemoiselles,” the clerk said, smiling, “I am so sorry, but with overbooking due to a conference, we have only one suite remaining. Two queen beds, of course, but you will need to share. Your bags have been put in the room for you already.” Stephanie’s face fell for a second. The idea of having her own suite in Paris had been half the appeal of the trip. Monica Anne, however, felt a secret rush of triumph. She had been hoping for exactly this kind of proximity. Monica Anne shook Stephanie’s hand a little as she held it. “What do you say?” Monica Anne smiled. “Roomies?” Stephanie smirked, still a little disappointed. “It’s fine,” Stephanie said reluctantly, forcing a smile. “We’ll make it work.” The girls each took a key card in their free hand. They held hands the entire walk to the elevator, and once inside, Monica Anne moved their hands together to the small of Stephanie’s back, resting just above where her lower back curved into her tight, sexy ass. This put the girls close once again and while they contained themselves from touching, they were still pressing and sliding against each other in a very electric way. The elevator dinged, opened, and the girls had a short walk to their suite, still holding hands. They ducked in quickly, smiling and giggling a little. The suite was warm and intimate: soft pink walls, a carved wooden headboard, white pillows, a pink bedspread, classic lamps casting golden light. It was then that both girls realized that a single large bed dominated the space. The door clicked shut. At least their luggage was already in the room as promised, standing up right next to the bed. For a moment they simply looked at each other. “One bed. Shall we complain–“ Monica Anne began to ask to which Stephanie quickly stopped her by saying, “Fuck it, let’s just do it already,” as she reached behind her neck to unfasten the sexy satin dress. It whispered down her body and pooled around at her feet in those sexy, strappy heels, revealing exactly what she had been wearing underneath the entire shoot: a delicate red lace bra that barely contained her large, full breasts, the underwire pushing them up into deep, inviting cleavage. Matching red lace thong panties sat low on Stephanie’s hips, the thin front panel already darkened with arousal, the back disappearing between the firm cheeks of her ass. Stephanie’s fair skin glowed under the warm light, nipples visibly peaked against the sheer lace cups. Monica Anne’s breath left her in a soft moan. She unfastened the emerald dress just as quickly, letting it slide down, too. Monica Anne smirked as she revealed she was wearing the same exact red lace bra and thong, the cups straining around her own significant cleavage and large breasts, thong framing her smooth, sexy hips and the neat triangle of dark curls just visible through the sheer lace. Stephanie’s eyes widened, then squinted with pure lust. “They gave us matching underwear,” Stephanie said matter-of-factly. Monica Anne stepped forward until their bodies almost touched, the matching red lace making them look like deliberate mirrors. “I was hoping we’d end up alone,” Monica Anne admitted, voice husky, as she drank in every sexy inch of the beautiful girl standing before her. “I’ve wanted this since the first fitting for this shoot,” Monica Anne confessed. Stephanie’s reluctance melted under the heat of those words and the sight of Monica Anne’s body in that sexy red lace lingerie. Stephanie reached out, cupping one heavy breast through the red lace, thumb stroking the stiff nipple. Monica Anne’s answering touch was immediate, both hands sliding around Stephanie’s waist, pulling their hips together so their mounds pressed through the thin thongs. The girls kissed like they had been starving for it. Open-mouthed, wet, tongues sliding and tasting, soft moans spilling between them. Hands roamed freely now: over the lace-covered curves of breasts, down the smooth planes of stomachs, around to squeeze firm asses, fingers dipping under the thin straps of the thongs to stroke the hot, slick folds beneath. Monica Anne guided them toward the bed. The girls tumbled onto the pink bedspread still in the matching red lingerie, mouths never leaving each other for long. Monica Anne’s lips trailed down Stephanie’s throat, across the upper slopes of her breasts, then she tugged one cup down and sucked a pale pink nipple deep into her mouth, tongue flicking and circling. Stephanie arched, gasping, fingers buried in Monica Anne’s dark braids. The girls stripped each other slowly after that, bras unhooked and tossed aside so full, heavy breasts could press skin-to-skin, thongs peeled down long legs and flung away. Without really thinking about it, they left the strappy high heels on. Nearly completely naked at last, the girls explored every inch: mouths on nipples, tongues tracing collarbones and the soft undersides of breasts, hands spreading thighs to stroke slick, swollen cunts. Stephanie’s fingers slipped inside Monica Anne first, two long digits curling, while her thumb circled the hard clit. Monica Anne returned the favor with equal hunger, licking her way down Stephanie’s toned stomach until she could bury her face between fair thighs, tongue plunging deep, tasting Stephanie’s sweet arousal in long, greedy strokes. When Monica Anne finally pulled away, lips shiny, she reached for her little suitcase and pulled it up on to the bed. From inside she drew a thick, realistic double-sided dildo, long, veined, the same soft-firm silicone on both ends. Stephanie’s eyes lit with pure hunger. “You travel with that?” Stephanie asked, laughing a bit. “A girl needs her toys,” Monica Anne smirked back. The girls then arranged themselves on the bed on all fours, asses toward each other, knees spread wide. Monica Anne guided one end of the dildo between Stephanie’s glistening folds, then the other between her own. Slowly they pushed back, sinking the thick shafts deeper and deeper until their asses nearly touched, the toy buried to the middle in both of them. The stretch was intense, perfect. The girls began to rock, gentle at first, then harder, fucking themselves onto the shared cock, the wet sounds of their cunts filling the room. Stephanie reached back blindly; Monica Anne caught her hand and held it as they moved, both moaning loudly every time the dildo dragged over their sweet spots. The girls came almost together, bodies shaking, asses pressing tight, the dildo locked deep inside both of them while their inner walls clenched and fluttered. Monica Anne wasn’t finished. She pulled the toy free, kissed Stephanie’s trembling thighs, then retrieved a second item from her bag: a sturdy black strap-on harness and a slightly thicker, curved black dildo that locked into place. “Wow,” Stephanie said, shaking her head. “You come prepared.” Monica Anne smirked, “A girl never knows when she is going to get lucky.” Monica Anne stepped into the harness, adjusting the straps high on her hips so the cock jutted proudly from her mound. Stephanie watched with wide eyes, already reaching for her again. Monica Anne laid Stephanie on her back, spread those long fair legs, and sank the strap-on into her in one smooth thrust. Monica Anne fucked her deep and steady, leaning down so their mouths could meet in endless wet kisses, tongues sliding while their breasts rubbed together. Stephanie’s legs locked around Monica Anne’s waist; her nails scored light red lines down Monica Anne’s back. When Stephanie came the second time, harder and louder, Monica Anne slowed only long enough to switch positions. Now Stephanie wore the harness. She took Monica Anne from behind first, gripping those braided pigtails like reins while she drove the cock deep into Monica Anne’s dripping cunt. Then, Stephanie flipped Monica Anne onto her back and fucked her face-to-face, one hand between them stroking Monica Anne’s clit in tight circles. They kissed constantly, soft and deep between thrusts, hungry and open when the pleasure peaked. Monica Anne came with a loud cry, walls pulsing around the toy, and Stephanie followed soon after from the friction of the harness against her own oversensitive clit. The girls collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and sweat-damp skin. The night was still young. Monica Anne’s fingers were already drifting back between Stephanie’s thighs, and Stephanie’s mouth was finding the soft curve of Monica Anne’s breasts again. They had the entire suite, the entire night in Paris, and every hungry, exploratory impulse left to satisfy…