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Chapter 1

“You’re hired,” I heard my husband Harry say. I looked at the woman in front of me, a young girl who was 20 years old, with dark skin, beautiful chocolate-brown eyes, and a smile that warmed the room. I couldn’t help but feel excited. I mean, this babysitter would be perfect for our daughter.

“I agree. You’ll be perfect for when we’re out at work,” I said. My husband and I ran an investment business together, a practice that brought us to where we were today. The young woman, a girl named Angelina, smiled.

“Thank you. I’m glad to be working for you,” the timid woman said.

God, she was gorgeous. Young, curvy in all the right places, with a plump ass that I just wanted to spank. Sure, she did have on a simple suit, but man it hugged her figure, and I could tell that she did have quite the body. I could see my husband staring glances at her too.

My husband did know I was bisexual, but I never acted on them. It’s something that I kept to myself, saving it for porn most of the time. But right then and there, I got riled up seeing her like this.

My husband finished the final touches with Angelina, and she was sent home. She’d be here first thing Monday to take care of the kid, and I was excited for that.

“You like her a lot it seems,” I said, playing it coyly.

“Look who’s talking,” he said with a smirk.

I tried to hide the ever-creeping flush on my face.

Monday came fast, and soon, both he and I went off to work. Of course, I could see him texting her from time to time, asking how the child was, making sure she was fine, and giving little compliments. I could see the anticipation in his eyes when he spoke to me. He wanted her. I mean, she was an attractive as hell woman, and I couldn’t agree more. But, I didn’t want him to know yet. My husband thinks that I don’t know this yet.

When we got home, he immediately went over to the study to speak to her, complimenting her and how she was taking care of Lily. I looked at my daughter, and she seemed fine. Of course, there was that burning desire to be in that office right now, to be touching that plump ass and eating out that delectable pussy she had underneath.

About a week passed, and things only grew hotter. My husband would accidentally touch her butt, and I couldn’t help but smile. He would turn away, trying to hide the look of lust, and after she left, I could always see him awkwardly touching his pants, trying to quell that erection. I immediately grinned, seeing him get all hot and bothered like this.

One night, about two weeks after Angelina started, my husband was meeting with Angelina to talk schedules.

“You two can get started. I’ll be over there in a second,” I said.

Lily was put to sleep a while ago, and I saw both of them look at me with a funny glance. However, they followed my instructions, but instead of heading to the office, I saw them go to the bedroom. Luckily, I was just about finished washing dishes, and I made sure that I had my special surprise on. I tiptoed over to where the room was, and I could hear my husband fumbling about.

“You can sit here if you’d like,” he said.

“Okay,” Angelina said. I imagined she was right next to him.

He was discussing something, but I could tell from the way Angelina kept cutting him off that she had other plans. Suddenly, there was the sound of a thud, a slight muffling sound, and then silence.

I knew what was happening. I opened the door, seeing Angelina’s lips on my husband’s, and he was kissing her back. I should’ve been pissed, I should’ve been so goddamn angry at my husband,

But instead, I smiled.

“There you are. I was wondering what you two were up to,” I said.

“I can explain Ginny, I swear!” he said.

I laughed, standing against the doorframe and looking at them.

“No need to explain. I was thinking the same thing. Don’t worry, she’s long asleep,” I told them.

I walked over to Angelina after closing the door, smiling at her as I pulled her chin up, looking at her beautiful chocolate brown eyes and grinning.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. I know my husband has had a thing for you, and the truth is, I do too,” I said to her.

Suddenly, I pushed my lips to her own, kissing them passionately. She immediately kissed me back, and I knew, this was about to turn into a night neither of us would forget.

The engine cut with a final, guttural cough, the silence of the parking lot pressing in around the battered sedan like a velvet curtain. National City had a way of swallowing you whole in its forgotten corners, and this particular stretch of asphalt behind Cheetah’s was no exception. The air hung heavy with the scent of exhaust and stale perfume, a faint bass thump vibrating through the soles of my shoes even before we reached the entrance. I glanced at my friends, their faces illuminated in the erratic glow of a flickering neon sign that promised "LIVE NUDE" in tired pink letters, and felt a thrill that was equal parts terror and exhilaration.

We pushed through the strings of clacking plastic beads, the sound a cheap imitation of tropical paradise, and stepped into a world that felt both alien and intimately familiar. The interior of Cheetah’s was a study in shadow and garish light. Red velvet booths lined the walls, their surfaces worn smooth by countless anonymous bodies. The air was thick with the smell of spilled beer, cheap whiskey, and the cloying sweetness of a dozen different perfumes clashing in the humid atmosphere. A long, chrome-trimmed stage dominated the center of the room, its surface reflecting the swirling spotlights in hypnotic patterns. The crowd was a mix of lonely men in ill-fitting suits and groups of women like us, their laughter sharp and bright against the murmur of conversation and the thrum of the sound system.

We found seats along the edge of the stage, the plastic chairs cool against the backs of our thighs. The first few dancers were a blur of peroxide and silicone, their movements practiced and detached, their eyes scanning the crowd for the flash of a twenty-dollar bill. They were beautiful in a manufactured way, all sharp angles and rehearsed smiles, but they left me cold. I sipped my drink, the ice clinking against the glass, and felt the initial excitement begin to wane. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe the fantasy was always better than the reality.

Then she walked out.

The music shifted, the generic pop beat giving way to something slower, more primal, a bass line that seemed to pulse directly from the floorboards into my bones. And there she was. Lena. The name would echo in my mind for weeks afterward, a single syllable that held the weight of an entire universe. She was dressed in a costume that straddled the line between cheesy and breathtaking—a leopard-print bandeau top that barely contained her full, natural breasts, and hot pants that hugged the curve of her hips like a second skin. Her skin was a deep, sun-kissed bronze, glowing under the lights as if she’d just stepped out of a jungle clearing. Her hair was a cascade of gleaming black waves, thick and wild, falling past her shoulders. But it was her eyes that captured me first—dark green, intelligent, and alive with a fire that seemed to burn just for me.

She didn’t just dance; she inhabited the music. Her body was a language all its own, a series of fluid, serpentine movements that spoke of untamed grace. She slithered along the stage, her hips swaying in a rhythm that felt ancient and sacred. When she passed our section, her gaze locked with mine, and for a heartbeat, the entire club vanished. There was only the intensity of her stare, a silent communication that bypassed all rational thought and struck directly at something deeper, something more primal. She crawled back across the stage, her hands pressing flat against the polished wood, her back arched in a perfect, predatory curve. She toyed with the waistband of her shorts, thumbs hooked inside, and with a slow, deliberate motion, slid them down her long, toned legs. Beneath, she wore simple black cotton panties, a stark contrast to the glittering artifice around her. And in that moment, I knew. I knew that I wanted her, not just as a spectacle, but as a presence. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow: I preferred her with the shorts on. I wanted the mystery, the suggestion, the woman beneath the costume.

When her song ended, she collected her tips with a practiced grace, her smile genuine as she took the wad of dollars I held out. Her fingers brushed mine, a fleeting contact that sent a jolt straight up my arm.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice a low, smoky contralto that vibrated in the air between us. “I’m Lena.”

“Hi,” I managed, my own voice sounding thin and reedy. “I really like your outfit.”

“Me too,” she giggled, the sound warm and real. She gave me a smile that reached her eyes before waving her fingers and gliding off the stage, leaving me staring after her with my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Oooooh, you like her. You should get a lap dance.” My friend Sarah was practically bouncing in her seat, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Yeah, get a lap dance! Get a lap dance!” The others joined in, their chorus a playful torment that made my cheeks burn.

“Maybe,” I mumbled, my gaze still fixed on the doorway through which Lena had disappeared.

“No, no, you should get one. She’s totally hot.” Sarah leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, it’s your first time here. Don’t wimp out now.”

“I know, I know, but let me think about it, OK?” I pleaded, but I could see the determination in their faces. They were going to drag me over to her if I didn’t act soon. I needed a moment to breathe, to collect myself. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” I announced, pushing my chair back and standing up on slightly unsteady legs.

The hallway leading to the restrooms was dimly lit, the walls lined with framed posters of past dancers, their smiles frozen in time. I pushed open the door to the women’s room and stopped dead. There, perched on the edge of the sink counter, was Lena. She was chatting casually with another woman, her legs crossed, one foot swinging idly. The room smelled of disinfectant and hairspray, but it was her scent that dominated—the sweet, musky aroma of her skin, mixed with something like coconut and vanilla.

“Oh, hi,” I stammered, my voice echoing in the tiled space. “Is this your dressing room?”

She laughed, a rich, throaty sound that filled the small room. “No, but it’s almost the same quality.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and I felt my nervousness melt into a strange, comfortable warmth. I smiled back and slipped into a stall, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the lock. When I emerged, she was still there, watching me as I washed my hands.

She admired my purse, a vintage leather bag I’d found at a thrift store. “That’s gorgeous,” she said, her gaze appreciative. “Where’d you get it?”

I told her about it, the story of my find spilling out of me in a nervous rush. Then I pulled out my sparkly lip gloss, a tube of iridescent red that caught the light. She asked to try it, and I held it out, watching as she dipped a slender finger into the goo and smoothed it over her full lips. The intimacy of the act, the simple sharing of a beauty product, felt more profound than any conversation I’d had in weeks.

We talked a bit more about makeup, about the trials of finding the right shade of foundation, about the way certain colors made us feel powerful. Then, casually, as if she were asking about the weather, she said, “Did you want to get a lap dance?”

The question hung in the air, charged and electric. Did I? The thought had been a constant undercurrent since I’d first seen her on stage. Now, faced with her directness, there was no room for hesitation.

“Yes,” I said, the word leaving my lips before I could second-guess it. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” she replied, her smile widening. “Just give me a few more minutes and I’ll come get you.”

I practically floated out of the bathroom and back to my friends, my steps light, my head dizzy with anticipation. I was going to get a lap dance, and I had arranged it myself. There was a giddy sense of accomplishment in that, a private victory that made me want to gloat. I sat down, trying to keep my expression neutral, but the corners of my mouth kept twitching upward.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the back, her eyes scanning the crowd until they found me. She beckoned with a subtle curl of her finger, and I stood, following her as if pulled by an invisible string. She led me to the other side of the stage, to a secluded alcove against a wall where I’d seen other dancers pressed up against older men, their bodies moving in slow, sensual rhythms. She gestured to a plastic-covered couch, its surface slick and cool, and I sat. Then she pulled a chair from nearby and placed it a few feet in front of me.

“So people can’t look up your skirt,” she explained, her tone matter-of-fact but kind. I smiled my thanks, a gesture of consideration that had never occurred to me. I handed her a few larger bills, and we made small talk for a minute or two, her laughter easy and genuine. Then a song she liked came on, something with a heavy, pulsing beat that seemed to sync with my own heartbeat.

And then, quite suddenly, it started.

She pushed me, not hard, but with enough force to tilt my head back against the wall, the rest of my body pressed against the sticky plastic. My legs fell slightly apart, and she stepped between them, her presence immediate and overwhelming. She leaned forward, pressing her entire body along the length of mine, from her chest to her thighs. I could feel every curve, every indentation, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin fabric of my clothes. She smelled like sweat and lotion and some undefinable sweetness, and I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with her scent. Even her sweat smelled good, like baby powder and warm skin. Her soft hair brushed against my face and shoulders, a silken caress that made me shiver. Her breasts, firm and full, pressed up against mine, and I felt my nipples harden in response.

Then I felt her thigh against my hand. She had climbed up onto the couch with me, one knee on the cushion beside my hip, the other foot planted firmly on the floor. This was not what I had expected. I’d seen movies, read stories, but the reality was far more intense. I thought I knew the rules—no touching, keep your hands to yourself. But what if they were touching you? What about her hand, now gliding along mine, her fingers lacing with my own? The outside of her smooth thigh brushed against my arm, her slightly damp skin setting mine on fire. The look she gave me was priceless: as her body moved downwards, crouching near my stomach, I looked down and her hooded eyes were fixed on me, her face a vision of pure lust, her mouth slightly open. It was a practised look, I knew, but it felt as real as any look I’d ever received, and it entered me, warming me from the inside out.

I thought I knew what I was getting into; I’d read all the feminist arguments, the sex worker manifestos. This was just a job, and I was a paying customer: one song, one lap, one transaction. But all of that background disappeared, likewise my friends, my family, National City, everyone else in the club. It was just me and her, never mind the music; it was that look as she slid between my open legs. I swallowed heavily, my throat tight. I couldn’t move, and I didn’t want to, ever again. I just wanted to sit here and let her brush herself against me again and again as I kept getting wetter, the dampness between my thighs growing undeniable.

And then her hand reached up, delicately turning the chain of my necklace around my neck, her fingers brushing the cool metal of the Christian cross. It was the sweetest gesture, something only another femme would notice or care about, a moment of tenderness in the midst of raw sensuality. She gave me a little smile as she did it, and I gave her one back, a silent acknowledgment of the connection passing between us.

The song was almost over, and she gave it her all. Her body pushed hard against mine, pressing my chest, stomach, thighs, grinding down with a rhythm that was both punishing and exquisite. She was working me so good that a huge bouncer walked over and glanced at us suspiciously, his arms crossed over his chest. But she turned around and gave him a look that told him to move along, a silent command that he obeyed without question. I liked knowing that whatever she was doing with me was enough out of the norm to warrant the bouncer’s attention. I felt ravished in a way I’d never felt before; it was pure sexual desire, concentrated into whatever messages her skin and her eyes could send me in the course of that five-minute song.

When the song ended, I gave her a generous tip, my hands shaking slightly as I handed over the bills. She sat with me for a little while, her body still close to mine, and took my hand in hers. Her touch was delicate and soft, and I reveled in it, the tenderness of her grip a stark contrast to the intensity of the dance. It was tender and sensitive, and I needed this, needed to hear her sweet voice tell me about her career as a barista, her friendship with a famous musician, her upcoming trip to New York. I needed to hear whatever it is she wanted to tell me, true or not. My head knew certain things; this was a strip club, that was a lap dance, this was her job. But inside, inside, I knew something else. I knew that we had just exchanged something special. It wasn’t sex or passion or lust per se; it was more than, and less than, each of those things. It was contact, attention, and adoration. Call me crazy, but I think it went both ways.

After we talked, I went back to my friends, but I felt a bit odd, suspended between two worlds. I knew they had been watching, but did they see what really happened?

“That was some lap dance,” Sarah said, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, that was really amazing for your first time,” another friend, Maggie added, her voice tinged with envy.

“She gave you her real name? That’s a big stripper no-no,” the Ruby observed, leaning in with interest.

“I think she liked you,” Sarah concluded, and I nodded, responding minimally, still in my own world.

For the rest of the trip, wherever I was, whatever I was doing, part of me was still sitting on that plastic-covered couch, looking down at her, breathing her scent, reveling in her look. The memory was a live wire, humming with a current that kept me awake at night, my body aching with a need that was both specific and vague.

I haven’t gone to any more strip clubs since, or gotten any more dances. How could they ever live up to her? I don’t know if I want to find out. The experience had been a revelation, a door opened into a part of myself I hadn’t known existed, and I was terrified that another encounter would either tarnish the memory or prove it to be a fluke. So I hold it close, that night at Cheetah’s, the feel of Lena’s skin against mine, the look in her eyes, the way her touch had made me feel seen and desired in a way that was both professional and profoundly personal. It was a transaction, yes, but it was also a gift, and I treasure it like a secret, a spark of wild, untamed beauty in the midst of a mundane world.

After watching the display that Susan and Daphne had performed in front of him, Harry's cock was raging, a throbbing, veined monument to his renewed lust. He grabbed Daphne's hand and pulled her to the edge of the bed, his movements urgent and possessive. He sat first, positioning himself between the bed and her, his cock pointing at the ceiling like a battering ram, waiting for her pussy to receive him once more.

Daphne squatted herself on top of Harry's lap, her pussy plain for Susan to see and film with the cellphone. She began stroking his cock, her fingers gliding over the slick, heated skin, corroborating how hard he was for her. "Here goes Round 2," she said, smiling, impressed by how hard and horny Harry was.

"Uh..Daphnee.. what about the rubber...?" Harry questioned, his voice full of hesitancy. The thought of cumming inside her again, knowing she had a boyfriend only the two of them knew about, gnawed at his conscience.

"A little late for thinking that, don't you think?" Daphne teased, her voice a low purr. "You already came inside me once. What difference does it make if I get another creampie?" She was really excited to feel his raw cock inside her once more, and she wouldn't sacrifice that amazing feeling for something as silly as a condom.

Wow! All that white stuff is his cum..? He really came a lot inside her...huh? Susan thought as she witnessed Daphne's pussy leak a small amount of Harry's cum onto his lap. She was surprised because she thought that after the strenuous efforts she had made to clean Daphne's pussy of Harry's cum, she still managed to leak even more onto his lap.

While she was thinking this, Daphne lifted her hips to place her pussy on top of Harry's cockhead. She squatted, moaning as he slowly but surely began penetrating her, his cock parting her lips with such ease that it was a testament to how much pleasure he had already given her. She was leaking a river from her pussy, her juices coating his shaft.

"Aaaah...AAAAAH," Daphne moaned as she was penetrated by his gigantic cock. It was so much that her legs failed her for a second, forcing her to place her hands on top of Harry's knees to avoid falling off the bed and off his cock. She quickly regained her bearing, refusing to be defeated so easily by this amazing cock. She pushed Harry onto the bed and began riding him in the reverse cowgirl position, her back to him, her legs spread open so Susan could see exactly where Harry was penetrating her.

She bounced on top of his cock like a whore, like a slut possessed by a lust demon, trying to experience as much pleasure as possible. Her ass slapped against his thighs with wet, rhythmic smacks, the sound of their fucking filling the room.

I can see it all clearly....the place where they have become one...wow..it is even foaming a little... Susan was amazed. She was witnessing an intimate moment between the couple and was seeing how Daphne's face twisted with all the wicked pleasure that Harry's cock was making her experience. She was riding him, her pussy splashing her love juices mixed with the remnants of the previous creampie. She was impaling herself on that cock, making it kiss her womb with each and every one of her squats and thrusts.

"Come closer Susan! Film it up close. AAAAAH! Aaaah! Your cock is poking me in different spots all at the same time!" an eager Daphne yelled, her voice a desperate, pleasured cry.

Susan approached even more to the bed. She was so close she could smell the musty essence coming from their genitals, the smell of Daphne's pussy juice and Harry's semen and balls. She was watching as Harry's balls rippled with every impact from Daphne's bouncing and was mesmerized.

Damn! She is really close...she is watching us become one, my entire balls are exposed to her gaze too...oddly enough, that only makes me want to put on a good show for Susan! Harry thought as he made his best effort to fuck Daphne and slap his balls against her ass. Daphne was enjoying even more all the effort that Harry was doing, her pussy leaking like a broken faucet, her mouth incapable of containing all the moans that came from such a hard fuck.

As she was getting the fuck of her life, Daphne reclined herself so she was leaning against Harry's chest and whispered in his ear to provoke him. "You know...I had sex with my boyfriend last night..aaaah....Aaaaaah... Aaaaaah...but it felt like nothing compared to your massive cock! Aaaaaah!" she said, a teasing and mischievous smile playing on her lips as she looked into Harry's face, waiting for his reaction.

Harry's eyes blinked with anger and determination. The thought of her with another man, even her boyfriend, ignited a possessive fire in his gut. He grabbed her by her waist and started to absolutely demolish her with his cock.

He started thrusting into her with all the might of his hips, pounding her pussy like it owed him money to the mob. He was lifting her so high from the bed that his 10-inch cock almost left her pussy with each thrust, just to slam his cock deep into her again, punching her womb like a punching bag. His thrusts were making Daphne go crazy, her nipples razor-sharp with all the stimulus, pointing out like pleasure antennas.

"HYAA?! W-w-wait don't thrust like this! Aaaah! Aaaah! I am gonna cum if you thrust so hard inside of meeee!" Daphne moaned like a cheap whore, her pussy in paradise, experiencing pleasure that dwarfed anything she had ever felt before.

She fucked her boyfriend while I was abstaining from even touching myself for a week at her request??! That's not fair! I am gonna teach her cunt a lesson! an angry Harry thought as he continued to fuck her, his pace relentless, his anger and jealousy fueling his lust.

"Aaaah! Ah! Ah! You are thrusting from below!" Daphne continued moaning as Harry fucked her, the angle of their position providing him a unique opportunity to drive her pussy mad. He was thrusting not only against her womb, that sensitive spot that made her see stars, but each and every time his cock almost left her, he punched her G-spot with the head of his cock, a relentless, rhythmic assault that was driving her crazy. No one had ever so consistently fucked her G-spot before, and her body was responding with a cascade of involuntary spasms.

She looks like she's having an orgasm each time he thrusts....our sex is nothing like this...it almost makes it look like we are dead fish in comparison...and Daphnee gets to have sex like this every day.... Susan's thoughts were filled with a jealousy she couldn't recognize, a bitter envy that coiled in her gut as she observed Daphne get the fucking of her life, convulsing from all the pleasure she was feeling.

While she was thinking this, Daphne's body rippled from her sixth orgasm of the day, a powerful, full-body convulsion that made her lose all strength as she collapsed against Harry's chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Daphne I am gonna cum as hard as I can!" Harry warned, his voice a strained growl. He started to cum deep inside her, painting her baby room white with all the semen he poured into her. His cock twitched with each spurt, a powerful, pulsing release that seemed to go on forever. Her pussy, still twitching from her previous orgasms, almost made her cum once more from feeling Harry's hot seed deep inside her, but she barely managed to avoid it.

Simultaneously, Susan, who was watching the events unfold, couldn't help but think all this was incredibly hot. He is cumming inside her!.... Oh no.... I am getting wet just from thinking about it... Susan was so hot and bothered she couldn't hide the fact that she was rubbing her thighs together in an effort to stimulate her pussy, maybe even cum. It was impossible not to do it; she was witnessing probably the hottest porn scene of her life. Watching Harry cum inside Daphne, his twitching cock, she reflected, Wow...his entire cock throbs when he cums...and his balls tightened while he does....

Harry was really proud of all the cum he had poured inside Daphne's pussy. After he finished, he released his cock from inside her, watching as his cum started to leak out. Feeling bold, he grabbed her by her ass and spread her pussy lips to show a flustered Susan the result of his work. The cum leaked out like a river, the amount impressive considering it was his second cumshot of the day, staining the bed and the floor with his pearly release.

Daphne quickly recovered from this orgasm, getting up and attacking Harry's cock, which was fresh with the taste of both of them. She began kissing and licking his cockhead with passion, licking all remnants of their passion. She was cleaning him completely, and he was enjoying it, at least for the first bit.

"Aaaw thanks for making me feel good!" Daphne was not talking to Harry; she was directing all her attention and love to his cock, as she continued to lick all of him, sucking him and specifically focusing on his glands, all while also using her right hand to massage his balls, coaxing him to produce even more cum.

"Ah!..Daphneee....AHH... Wait...I just came! AAAAH! Nooo!" Harry was moaning, shuddering from all the pleasure. He couldn't even control his limbs right now because of what Daphne was doing to him. He was hard, even though he had just came, because he was too horny from the abstinence and the situation, but he was still too sensitive from his last cumshot to receive such an amazing blowjob.

And an amazing blowjob it was. She focused on his glands with her mouth and tongue, her right hand stroking him, her left massaging his testicles to stimulate him beyond his limits. From time to time she would alternate, sucking his balls while her left hand focused on his glands. Harry was a mess, panting and moaning without control, as Daphne took this opportunity to level the playing field.

Daphne was licking Harry's balls with a passion that was making him moan like crazy. She was not just licking him; she was sucking his balls one by one and then both at the same time. The stimulation made Harry's cock harden even more, ready to continue fucking, his cock leaking precum onto Daphne's forehead.

No way! She is licking his balls too?! His cock is bouncing so much! thought Susan with surprise.

Daphne was enjoying herself, licking his cock and stroking him with her left hand. While Harry was distracted by the pleasure, she took that moment to grab both of his legs and lift them, and started to rim Harry's asshole. She licked his asshole, tasting all she could, and penetrated him with her tongue, trying to bring him as much pleasure as she could. Harry was moaning, Daphne's tongue felt amazing as she licked his innards with passion. She was eating him out, while his cock leaked precum like crazy.

"Hmm! There is still a lot of cum in there... Just like last time, your cock is really amazing! It is still so hard after cumming twice..." said Daphne as she licked his ass, his balls, and ended on his glands. She continued stroking him to draw out more precum for her to lick.

"Okay, okay! Stop! Stop touching it! I am still sensitive and your licking didn't help..." muttered Harry, his voice a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation.

Oh! So it feels good to have his balls licked huh? pondered Susan, watching the pleasure plain on Harry's face, a new piece of knowledge settling into her horny, conflicted mind.

Daphne smiled teasingly towards Harry, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Be honest...you are getting turned on from being watched by Susan, right?!"

Hearing Daphne's words, Harry's cock twitched unconsciously with desire, a visible, involuntary spasm that betrayed his arousal.

"Ooooh! What an honest reaction!" Daphne cooed, her voice dripping with playful malice. "Come closer Susan! This guy is about to cum! And from what I have seen, when you are closer he gets even hornier and cums much more!"

Susan's eyes widened, a bewildered expression crossing her face as Daphne continued to stroke Harry's cock with increasing speed. Daphne was positioned behind him, out of the line of fire, her hand working his shaft while she kissed and nibbled at his neck, making him shudder with pleasure. Susan didn't know it, but Daphne had an evil plan brewing in her mind: she was going to make Harry give the oblivious girl an enormous facial.

Susan, hypnotized by Harry's big, hard cock, approached, filming really close. She was so close that she could smell the faint, musky scent emanating from his shaft. Daphne's hand couldn't even close around his cock completely, given how thick it was, but she continued stroking it towards Susan, aiming it like a weapon.

Compared to last week when we had sex, it feels really different. Being a spectator is so intense, Susan thought as she watched Daphne stroking Harry's cock and glands with all the effort of her hand, his cock flinging precum everywhere, glistening in the dim light of the hotel room.

"Don't hold back. Aim your cock at Susan and cum as hard as you can!" Daphne whispered into Harry's ear, her voice a hot, conspiratorial breath. She was really aiming his cock towards Susan, having made sure that Susan was close enough that when he came, she would be completely drenched in his cum.

Oh god! Aaaah.... Susan is staring at me... Susan is going to watch me cum!!! Aaaah... Harry's thoughts were a frantic, horny mess. He was so aroused by the thought of cumming onto Susan that he was moaning, his control slipping away.

"I am cumming....!" he yelled, his voice a raw, desperate cry.

"Yes! Do it! 3......2.....1....Shoot!" Daphne whispered, her voice a countdown to detonation.

The command triggered an explosive release. Harry started cumming like crazy, his mind going white with pleasure as his body was struck by a lightning bolt of ecstasy. His cock went wild, Daphne stroking him harder and faster as he came. A veritable river poured out of his cock, showering Susan's face, hair, shirt, and hands with his cum. It was so much that even Daphne was surprised by the sheer volume of semen spurting from his cock. She couldn't control the cock anymore; it was bucking and twitching in her grip, stream after stream of cum arcing from the head.

His cum is shooting everywhere! Susan thought, watching Harry cum with tremendous force, her eyes wide behind the camera lens.

"Ugh! Huh! ugh!" Harry moaned, continuing to cum his heart out. "Ohhh! I CAN'T STOP CUMMING!"

"Kyaaa! Eh! Huh? Eeeeeeeeh! Hey!" Susan finally noticed as she felt the cum reach her face. She was completely drenched in Harry's cum. Before, she hadn't noticed because it was landing on her shirt, her hair, and her hands, but when the last thick rope of it landed on her face, reaching her right eye and her open mouth, she finally registered what had happened. She let out a scream of surprise and a little disgust from being cum over.

"Uh...sorry, I didn't mean to...." Harry muttered, his voice weak and apologetic as he looked at the grimace on Susan's face.

"KYYAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Susan's scream echoed through the room, a mix of shock, embarrassment, and a strange, undeniable thrill that she couldn't quite name.

The air at the train station was thick with the smell of diesel fumes and the distant, echoing announcements of arrivals and departures. Harry stood near the main entrance, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his posture tense with a week’s worth of pent-up anticipation. He checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, his eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

Daphnee should be here anytime now…. he mumbled under his breath, his gaze sweeping across the platform. The week had been an eternity of blue balls and frustrated jerking sessions, each one a pale imitation of the real thing. He had followed her request to the letter, saving every drop, his libido skyrocketing to a point where even the slightest brush of fabric against his cock was enough to make him hard. The bulge in his pants was undeniable, a half-erect tent that strained against the denim, a testament to his eagerness.

It’s been a week since we swapped partners. Today I am meeting Daphnee for one reason…SEX!! Finally, it is our first time seeing each other as sex friends, since that day, and per her request I have been saving my cum for today!! My libido is at its peak, I have prepared a bunch of rubbers! I am already half erect too! His thoughts were a chaotic storm of lust and anticipation, each one fueling the fire in his groin.

“HUH? You…” a quiet voice came from behind him, startling him from his reverie.

Harry spun around, his heart leaping into his throat, and there she was. Susan.

She was dressed in a white blouse that clung to her curves, the fabric straining against her full breasts, and a blue long skirt that failed to hide the incredible outline of her enormous ass. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, but her face was anything but neat. It was a mask of cold annoyance, her eyes glaring at him with a contempt that cut through the air like a knife.

“Huh? What are you doing here?” Harry yelled, the words escaping him before he could stop them. The embarrassment was instant, a hot flush creeping up his neck as flashes of their last encounter flooded his mind—the feel of her bare pussy, the way she had begged for his cum, the secret creampie he had given her right in front of her boyfriend.

Susan’s expression darkened. “I don’t have to answer to you…” she spat, her voice dripping with disdain.

Damn! That’s cold! She still hates me a bit for what happened last week, huh… Harry’s thoughts were a jumble of guilt and defensiveness. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was cut off by a sudden, forceful impact from behind.

“Daphnee!” he gasped, the air rushing from his lungs as he felt two arms wrap around his waist, a chin resting on his shoulder.

“Sorry for the wait!!!!” Daphne’s voice was a songful, bubbly sound, a stark contrast to Susan’s icy tone. She squeezed him tighter, her body pressing against his back, her breasts squishing against him.

Oooooh! We are just sex friends, but you are treating me like we are a couple! Hey, new hairstyle! Harry reflected as he turned his head to look at her. Daphne’s face was radiant, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Her hair, usually long and free, was now intricately woven into a Dutch braid crown, making her look both orderly and breathtakingly beautiful. She was blushing, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and mischief, already thinking about the fucking and orgasms to come.

“You are early, aren’t you?!” Daphne said, her smile wicked, her tone suggesting he was eager to see her.

“I just reached actually!!!” Harry said rapidly, trying to sound nonchalant, to hide the fact that he had been there for twenty minutes already.

“Daphnee… What is going on? You said you wanted to hang out with me today…” Susan’s voice cut through the moment, cold and sharp. She was looking at Daphne, her annoyance palpable.

Daphne’s eyes widened, her gaze flicking from Harry to Susan and back again. “Eeeeeh? Both of you are here…?” she mumbled, her voice losing its bubbly edge as she finally seemed to register Susan’s presence.

“Huh? Susan… did Daphnee asked you out for today too?” Harry reflected, his mind racing. The pieces were clicking into place, and he didn’t like the picture they were forming.

Daphne let out a small, guilty sound, bumping the side of her head with her palm. “Oppsieeee…. Looks like I forgot and made an appointment with both of you!” she said, her voice laced with a regret that felt entirely too performative. She looked at Susan, her eyes wide and innocent, but there was a glint of something else there, something calculating.

Yep… She did this on purpose! Harry realized, a cold knot forming in his stomach. Looks like these two girls became friends since that day, and she was meeting today with Daphnee to talk about her situation and what she felt last time… Even with what happened last time they became fast friends… Daphnee sure is scary…

He remembered the texts from Daphne, the casual updates about Neville. From what I heard from Daphnee through her text messages, Neville was able to get hard after that, but he kept wanting us to swing again, which of course Susan objected to… She was feeling too guilty from what had happened last time.

And now, here they were. The three of them, at a train station, a week after the event that had shattered their friendships and created new, tangled bonds. Daphne’s “mistake” was no accident. It was a test, a game, and Harry had a sinking feeling that he was just a pawn in it.

Susan’s glare was now directed at both of them, her arms crossed over her chest, her posture defensive. The air was thick with unspoken words, with the memory of sweat and skin and the taste of forbidden pleasure. The train station, once a simple meeting point, was now a stage for whatever twisted game Daphne had decided to play.

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The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic from the street below. Neville sat on the couch, his posture relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension radiating from Susan as she stood by the window, her arms crossed over her chest.

“No way! I mean your ED is cured, right?” Susan’s voice was sharp, laced with an annoyance she could barely contain. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t see the point of doing it again with those two. It was intense, and later I felt guilty for cheating on you, even when we both were fucking them. It is not the same for me…” Her voice dropped to a murmur on the last part, too quiet for Neville to catch, but her mind was screaming with the memories.

Harry’s gigantic cock stretching me, the feeling of his creampie flooding my womb, the way Daphnee’s tongue fucked my pussy and ass… The thoughts were involuntary, vivid, and they sent a flush of heat through her body. She felt herself getting hot and bothered, her pussy growing wet, and she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, trying to quell the sensation.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Neville’s voice, calm and persistent. “I know I am cured, but it is fun…”

“Not for me!” Susan cut him off, her voice firm and final, ending that line of conversation definitively. She turned back to the window, her reflection staring back at her, a mask of frustration and hidden desire.

The present rushed back in, a wave of cold reality crashing over her. She was back at the train station, standing with Harry and Daphne, the memory of her conversation with Neville fresh in her mind. She glared at Harry, her eyes filled with a hateful resentment for his role in the swinging, for the things they had done that were sinful, that had shattered her sense of morality.

“Hey… don’t you think you are being kinda rude to my boyfriend?” Daphne’s voice cut through the air, harsh and confrontational. She was hugging Harry’s side, her eyes glinting with a malicious light as she looked accusingly at Susan. “Regardless of what happened in the end, we only did it to help out you and your boyfriend’s ED problem…. I think you are being ungrateful… Harry let his friend, your boyfriend, have sex with me too, and he got to cum every time, it was all fair and square!” Her voice was harsh, but she kept it calm, a controlled anger that was more effective than shouting.

Susan’s demeanor shifted under the weight of Daphne’s words. The resentment, the anger, it all seemed to deflate, replaced by a wave of shame. She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “UH…. You are right… I am sorry that was unbecoming of me. Uh… I hope we will still get along, Harry,” she said, a cute, forced smile now on her face as she looked at him.

“It is fine. Let’s be friends, Susan!” Harry replied, a wave of relief washing over him. Nice save, Daphne! he thought.

“Okay, now that we have made up, let’s go somewhere calming to rest!” Daphne declared, her voice bright and cheerful once more. She grabbed both of their hands, dragging them along before they could protest. Before they realized it, they were back at the love hotel where Harry and Daphne had first met.

Susan’s protest died in her throat as they were ushered inside a room. She watched, stunned, as Harry and Daphne began to kiss with a passion so burning hot that she felt flustered just watching them. Their hands were everywhere, tearing at clothes, desperate to feel skin. Daphne was quickly stripped down to just her panties, her body pressing against Harry’s naked chest, her hands rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“W-What is the meaning of all this?!!” Susan yelled, her face a deep crimson. “Why did you bring me here to this hotel!? I thought we were going to a café or a restaurant, not this!!!!”

Daphne turned, smiling, completely unbothered by Susan’s yelling or her own state of near-undress. Her cotton white panties were translucent, soaked through with her love juice, leaving little to the imagination. “You know, I have been wondering if you might be the reason why your boyfriend has ED…” she said, her voice accusatory.

Harry grimaced at the harsh words, but Daphne pressed on.

“Huh? Why me?!” Susan muttered, her embarrassment warring with her indignation.

“You don’t seem to be willing to blow him, and you are like a dead fish when you two have sex,” Daphne stated, her tone judgmental and cold. “What’s more, having sex is like a formal transaction between you two. There is no passion, there is not a desire to bring each other pleasure. You two just go through the motions.” She paused, her eyes sweeping over Susan’s flustered form. “Maybe that’s why he can’t get hard for you. Maybe he needs to see real passion, real desire, to be inspired.”

The memory unspooled in Susan’s mind like a reel of old, faded film. She saw herself with Neville, the motions mechanical, the sounds forced. It was a duty, a box to be checked on the list of a good girlfriend’s responsibilities. She would lie there, her mind wandering to grocery lists or work emails, while he moved above her, his grunts of effort a distant soundtrack to her boredom. The pleasure was minimal, a fleeting spark at best, and because of that, she had never truly craved it, never initiated it with any real fire. The sex was a chore, and her lack of enthusiasm had become a silent, festering wound in their relationship.

Wait…so I am the one at fault for Neville´s ED?!!! The realization hit her with the force of a physical blow, a cold, horrifying clarity. It wasn’t just a physical ailment; it was a symptom of their emotional and sexual disconnect. Her own disinterest had fed his insecurity, creating a vicious cycle of performance anxiety and failure.

“KYAAAA?!” Susan’s scream was a strangled mix of shock and horror as her spiraling thoughts were violently interrupted.

Daphne had used Susan’s moment of distraction perfectly. In one fluid motion, she had unzipped Harry’s pants and freed his cock. It sprang forth, a thick, pulsating tower of flesh, hard and angry from a week of abstinence. It curved upwards, the head a deep, swollen purple, veins throbbing along its impressive length. It was a weapon of pure, unadulterated lust.

“It is as big as I remember,” Daphne purred, her voice thick with hunger. Her face was smacked playfully by the massive head as it was released, and she leaned in, her eyes wide with adoration. She knelt before him, her head dwarfed by the sheer size of his cock. The shaved, heavy weight of his balls rested against her chin, and she salivated, her tongue darting out to lick her lips in anticipation.

Wow…it looks huge even from far away… Susan thought, her own pussy clenching in sympathetic memory. The sight was mesmerizing, terrifying, and incredibly arousing.

“Hey Susan, can I ask you a favor?” Daphne’s voice cut through her trance. “Could you please film us while we have sex?” Without waiting for an answer, she pulled her cellphone from her bag and shoved it into Susan’s hands.

“EEEEH…Why?!” Susan stammered, her confusion warring with the heat pooling in her belly.

Daphne guided a mesmerized Harry to the couch, both of them shedding their remaining clothes in a trail of eager haste. Harry’s cock stood rigid, pointing menacingly at the ceiling, a testament to his week of pent-up desire. Daphne wrapped her hand around it, her fingers unable to close even halfway around its girth, and began a slow, teasing stroke.

“Well…You see…I learned that I found quite exciting to have sex while being watched by someone else!” Daphne explained, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Whats more, with the filming and when you watch it at home, you might be able to learn a thing or two from watching us have sex! This way you are able to see what a couple horny and in love with each other is like when they are having sex! So…as you can see, it is a win-win for everyone involve!”

She didn’t wait for Susan’s consent. She turned to Harry and captured his mouth in a searing kiss, her tongue twisting around his, devouring him with a week’s worth of pent-up hunger. Harry responded in kind, his hands tangling in her braided hair, pulling her closer. The sound of their wet, hungry kisses filled the room.

Susan, feeling a strange compulsion, raised the phone and hit record. The screen lit up with the intimate scene.

-They are going back at it, and they are really ignoring me now…She has a point though…I can learn a thing or two from them…besides, just watching others having sex specially if it is to please Neville later, doesn’t count as cheating, right?!! Susan’s thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of justification and desire. She framed the shot, focusing on the way Daphne’s hand moved over Harry’s immense cock.

“Your tip is so big!” Daphne gasped, breaking the kiss. She used her slim fingers to circle the sensitive ridge under the head, making Harry’s hips jerk. “You know, Susan is watching us!! I think she is really focused on your cock,” she whispered in his ear, her eyes glinting with mischief as she glanced at Susan.

“Ohhhh, your cock just twitch hearing that huh?” Daphne teased, her hand stroking him in slow, deliberate movements. “It is making you excited to know that she is watching your cock and getting wet while imagining you fucking her hard again? My God! You are so hard! How many days have you been saving up?!”

“I…haven’t jerked or cum for an entire week...Since the last time we all had sex….” Harry confessed, his voice a strained groan. He shuddered when Daphne’s other hand cupped his balls, squeezing them with a firm, possessive pressure. “I am so glad! I can tell by touching this that you are not lying…umm you really enjoy me touching your balls…a thought for later…” she purred.

“Look who is talking, you are pretty wet too Daphnee!” Harry shot back, tired of being on the defensive. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her gently back onto the couch, his hand immediately finding her pussy. His fingers slid through her soaked folds, circling her clit with a practiced motion that made her gush a fresh wave of her juices onto the cushions.

Daphne’s stroking never faltered as Harry attacked her mouth again, kissing her with a passion that made her dizzy. “AAAah! AAAH! AAAAh! You are touching my pussy while kissing me….” she moaned against his lips.

Susan watched through the phone’s screen, her own breathing growing shallow. They were really going at it. Their sex was so intense, so different. The way they kissed, the way their eyes locked with raw hunger, the way their hands explored each other’s bodies with desperate familiarity—it was on another level entirely. She had never experienced anything like this with Neville. Their sex was a quiet, polite affair compared to this raw, animalistic display.

She watched as they competed, each trying to make the other cum first. Daphne focused on the ultra-sensitive underside of Harry’s tip, her thumb rubbing it in a maddening rhythm, while Harry used a precise, circular motion on Daphne’s clit that he knew drove her wild. Their moans intertwined, a symphony of pleasure that Susan was now capturing, a silent, voyeuristic participant in their passionate reunion.

The way they kissed was a revelation, a lewd, wet symphony of tongue and teeth that Susan couldn’t tear her eyes away from. It wasn’t the chaste, closed-mouth pecks she shared with Neville; it was a full-body consumption, a desperate melding of mouths that seemed to suck the very air from the room. Harry’s tongue fucked Daphne’s mouth with the same rhythm he would soon use on her pussy, and Daphne met him stroke for stroke, her moans vibrating against his lips.

Susan felt a strange, hot flush creep up her neck as she watched through the phone’s lens. She was feeling weird, a voyeuristic heat pooling low in her belly. Her thighs rubbed together of their own accord, the friction creating a dull, insistent throb against her clit. Her panties were damp, a testament to the arousal she couldn’t deny.

The way Daphnee kisses and touches me is so lewd, it is like she is putting a performance. I feel like I am gonna lose my mind! Harry thought, his mind reeling from the sensory overload. Daphne’s hands were everywhere, her nails scraping down his back, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body arching against his with a desperate need. But I am feeling self-conscious because we have Susan watching and filming us…

“Wait..Daphnee! Don´t go any further,” Harry said, his voice strained with a mix of embarrassment and desperate need. He pulled back slightly, his cock throbbing painfully between them.

“I can´t wait any longer. Let me have it!” Daphne pleaded, her eyes glazed with lust. She reached down, her hand wrapping around his shaft, guiding him toward her entrance. “Hang on, I will go get a rubber…” muttered Harry, his rational mind trying to assert itself.

“No….FUCK ME. NOW!” Daphne’s order was absolute, her voice a low, commanding growl that brooked no argument. She spread her legs wider, her pussy glistening with her juices, an open invitation.

“Daphneee!” Harry’s control shattered. He lost all semblance of restraint and jumped on top of her, grabbing her hips and pulling her back against the bed. She spread herself open, giving him complete access to her pussy and all her body. “Here I go Daphnee! Susan record this moment, record us having sex!” he yelled, his voice thick with excitement.

“Shut up and just gimme your cock!” Daphne yelled back, her voice frisky and demanding. Her pussy was leaking so much juice that it coated her inner thighs, her asshole, and the bed beneath her in a slick sheen.

“Wow, he is going in raw…” Susan muttered, her voice a hushed whisper as she zoomed the camera in on the point of penetration.

Harry placed the tip of his cock against Daphne’s pussy. Her lips parted without effort, her wetness providing a slick, welcoming passage despite his enormous size. He thrust in a swift, powerful motion, his cock sliding from her entrance to her womb in one seamless stroke. The moment he touched her deepest point, Daphne’s body convulsed.

“AAAH I AM CUMMING!” Daphne screamed, her orgasm hitting her instantly from the sheer feeling of Harry entering her. Her pussy clamped down on his cock like a vice, milking him as spasm after spasm wracked her body.

“FUAAA! AAAH! AAAH AHH! AH! AH! I am so happy! You are way bigger than my boyfwhn!” Daphne’s words devolved into gibberish, her brain short-circuiting from the intense pleasure. Harry’s cock was stretching her to her absolute limit, filling her completely.

Huh? Susan thought, confused, only catching fragments of Daphne’s slurred speech. She couldn’t understand the words, but the meaning was clear in the raw, animalistic pleasure contorting Daphne’s face.

Harry, nervous that Daphne’s cock-drunk brain might say something incriminating, didn’t stop. He continued fucking her through her orgasm, prolonging it, making her unable to form any coherent thought. Her screams became a continuous, high-pitched wail.

“Wait Harryyyyy…AAAH…AAH…I´M STILL CUMMING!” Daphne let out another scream as Harry fucked her through the waves of her climax. He was between her legs, driving his cock deep, rubbing against her G-spot with each thrust, kissing her womb with the head of his cock, making her cum back to back.

Susan watched, mesmerized. They are seriously going at it… she thought, her own arousal building to a fever pitch. She was comparing this to the times she’d had sex with Neville, and there was no comparison. She had never been fucked with this passion, this intensity. Last week, I didn’t get to look at it up close…So this is what it´s like being fucked by Harry´s cock, she thought, a little gleefully, as she saw Daphne’s face twisted in a mask of pure lust, her mouth hanging open, her tongue lolling out as she gasped for air.

Harry brought Daphne’s left leg up onto his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrusts. He fucked her harder, slapping his thighs against her ass in a rhythmic, continuous movement as he drove his cock deep into her pussy, smashing Daphne’s womb with each powerful stroke.

Susan is watching me fuck! I am really turned on from just thinking about it! Harry reflected, his ego and his lust feeding off each other. Since we are fucking bareback, I can really feel her wetness. He dragged his cockhead against her G-spot, the rough patch of flesh getting a thoughtful scrubbing that made Daphne’s toes curl.

“Whooops! Sorry it slipped out!” Harry said, his voice feigning innocence. It was completely on purpose. He had fucked Daphnee so hard that his cock slipped out of her pussy, slapping with a loud, wet smack against her clitoris.

“AH!” Daphne moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. She was so out of it, she couldn’t even think from the hard fuck Harry was giving her. Harry had intended to use this moment to focus all of Susan’s attention on his cock as he started teasing Daphne again, the thick, veined shaft glistening with her juices, hovering just out of reach of her dripping entrance.

“Put it back in!” Daphne moaned, her voice a desperate, whining plea that vibrated through the humid air of the hotel room. Her hips lifted off the mattress, chasing the phantom sensation of his cock, her pussy lips swollen and glistening, twitching in anticipation. “Jeez, stop teasing me!”

Normally, Daphne would have seized this moment, using her own vulnerability to corrupt Susan further, to draw the other woman into their orbit of pleasure. But Harry was relentless. After almost reaching her third orgasm, he had pulled out, leaving her hanging on the precipice of bliss. Now, he was just rubbing his thick, leaking cock against her clitoris and her pussy lips, the friction maddening, the teasing unbearable. Her pussy was spasming, flooding the sheets with fresh waves of her arousal, her body trembling with the need to be filled.

Harry watched her squirm, a smirk playing on his lips. He was teasing her, poking the swollen head of his cock against her entrance, just barely putting it in before withdrawing, all while his thumb circled her clit, keeping her right on the edge of cumming without letting her fall over.

He is poking her pussy with his tip…! Susan thought, her eyes glued to the screen of the phone she was filming with. That looks like it will feel really good…. She watched as Harry’s cock traced the outline of Daphne’s pussy, the thick shaft glistening with her juices, making her gush even more, coating him in a slick sheen.

Daphne was dizzy with pleasure, her legs kicked up in the air, her arms flailing slightly as she moaned, begged, and whined for Harry to resume fucking her properly. “Harry…! I can’t wait any longer! Shove it inside me!” she begged, her hands reaching down to spread her own pussy lips, offering him a full view of her dripping, clenching interior.

“S-Sorry, I will do it right…NOW,” Harry muttered, his voice thick with his own arousal. He lined himself up, and in a sharp, brutal thrust, he drove his cock deep inside Daphne. The head of his cock slammed into the end of her pussy, drawing a loud, piercing moan from her throat. “AAAAHHH!”

Susan watched, mesmerized, as Harry’s cock spread Daphne’s pussy with force, making her pussy pour large amounts of love juices, wetting the bed even more. Damn…That thing was inside me a week ago…Oh no…I am itching a little inside from thinking about it… Susan rubbed her thighs together, the friction doing little to alleviate the heat building between her legs. She was remembering how she felt last week when Harry’s cock was demolishing her insides, making her lose all reason, and forget she even cared for her boyfriend.

If one were to look inside her panties, they would see her ginger landing strip, her lips glistening with a verifiable river of love juices pouring out of her pussy. Her panties were ruined, wet and sticky, beginning to feel uncomfortable with how soaked they were. The rubbing of her thighs to try to scratch that itch was not helping at all; it could be said that it was even worse than before, the friction only heightening her desperation.

“I am so horny, Daphnee!! It feels different when we are being watched,” Harry said, his voice a low growl as he pounded his cock hard into her, frantic long and hard thrusts fucking Daphne raw. She moaned like crazy each and every time his cock brushed against her womb, her body spread on the bed, her legs wide open, her arms to her sides, her boobs bouncing around with each thrust, enticing Harry who didn’t doubt one second before placing one nipple in his mouth, licking and biting them with small bites, drawing more moans out of Daphne.

“Pull out when you cum, okay?!” Daphne managed to gasp out between moans.

“Got it,” Harry replied, his voice strained.

“AAAAH! I AM CUMMING AGAIN!!! AAAH!!” Daphne couldn’t resist anymore. She had been on the edge for the last five minutes from Harry’s teasing and fucking, and now she came really hard, her pussy walls contracting with all their force, trying to milk him, her clit spasming like crazy, a squirt leaking out of her, and her asshole winking with each and every orgasmic contraction she was experiencing. “I´M CUMMING!!!” she couldn’t help herself, just as she came down from the previous orgasm, she had a second consecutive one, making her lose control of herself completely.

I am gonna cum too…But I wanna enjoy her insides a little longer! Harry’s mind was a haze of pleasure and possessiveness as he felt his own climax building, a tight coil in his gut. He could feel Daphne’s pussy squeezing him with each orgasm, the rhythmic milking of her walls driving him closer to the edge. I will not stop till I want to… he thought, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate.

He felt his orgasm approaching, a tidal wave of sensation, and as per Daphne’s request, he pulled out at the last possible second. “I´m cumming !!” he groaned, his voice a raw, guttural sound. He aimed his cock at Daphne’s body, and with a few rough strokes, he bathed her in his cum. Thick ropes of white splashed across her face, her breasts, her belly, and finally, her pussy, coating her freshly fucked entrance in a glossy layer.

Daphne lay there, a smiley, sated expression on her face, admiring Harry’s work on her body. She looked like a masterpiece of debauchery, painted in his seed.

“Hey…You came inside her…” mumbled Susan, her voice laced with a little grimace as she watched some of Harry’s cum leak out of Daphne’s insides, a thick, white rivulet tracing a path down her inner thigh.

“Sorry, I couldn´t pull out in time…” Harry apologized to Daphne, though his tone lacked any real remorse.

“Jeez…useless...hahaha...but I am glad my pussy felt so good that you couldn´t control yourself and came without helping it,” Daphne said, her voice teasing and light. She didn’t care a single bit that he had come inside her; in fact, she seemed pleased by his lack of control. She looked at Harry’s cock, which was still hard, red, and angry with lustful energy, wanting to continue fucking much more. “Look at you… I bet you want more...”

“Y-Yeah!” Harry stumbled over his words, a little lightheaded from his recent orgasm, but his cock throbbed in agreement.

“Well, you will have to wait a bit,” Daphne said, her voice taking on a commanding edge. “Susan, give Harry the cellphone so he continues recording, and come here beside me.”

Susan was startled by the order, but she followed Daphne’s command without a single bit of hesitation. She was completely hypnotized by Daphne’s freshly fucked pussy, the sight of it red, glistening, and full of Harry’s cum. She knelt beside the bed, facing it, her eyes wide.

“You know I want Harry to have a second round right away, but I am too dirty, sticky and full of his cum,” Daphne explained, her smile mischievous. “So could you be a dear and help me clean…with your mouth obviously…”

In any other moment, such a request would have met with a sharp denial. But after watching Harry and Daphne fuck for the last 45 minutes, Susan was not in the right headspace. She was horny, unsatisfied from a week of frustrating sex with her boyfriend, and feeling frisky about having another sapphic experience with Daphne.

Susan nodded, a silent, eager agreement. She approached Daphne on the bed, who reclined with her arms supporting her, watching what Susan was going to do with pleasant anticipation. Susan started by kissing Daphne, licking her lips, trying to clean her mouth of all of Harry’s semen. She was licking Daphne’s face out of all the cum, cleaning her face and sharing half the semen with Daphnee with each kiss, swallowing more and more of Harry’s cum.

She continued licking, going lower on Daphne, licking her nipples, leaving behind a string of saliva all around them, but clean from the semen. She alternated between kissing her and licking her clean, her movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. She continued like this for a few minutes, till she reached Daphne’s pussy.

She could see the evidence of the hard fuck that Harry had given her. Daphne’s pussy looked red, a little inflamed from the fucking, glistening with a mixture of Harry’s cum and her own juices. Susan was mesmerized, horny beyond measure, as she observed that sight.

She kneeled again on the floor, grabbing Daphne by her legs and bringing her to the edge of the bed so her pussy was right in front of Susan’s mouth. She started eating her pussy with enthusiasm, licking all her insides, scooping Harry’s cum from the inside of her pussy and lapping it all out. She was sucking her clitoris, trying to make her cum, her tongue working with a fervor that surprised even Daphne.

Daphne was going crazy with Susan’s licking, she was losing her mind. She could feel Susan’s tongue scraping her insides and cleaning her, and she was surprised but pleased about how eager Susan was tongue-fucking her.

“I am cumming!!!” Daphne came for the fifth time of the day, her body arching off the bed as Susan made her cum. With the orgasmic contractions, the last blob of Harry’s cum, located deep inside her, came out of her pussy, and was eagerly consumed by the waiting mouth of Susan. Upon finding herself with it, Susan got up and kissed Daphne, sharing the cum with her in a battle of tongues, finally swallowing Harry’s cum together.

Susan was beyond horny, her reason gone a bit, her pussy wet with a desire to masturbate herself right in front of them, but the little bit of shame and guilt she still felt for Neville stopped her from doing it.

“God damn! That is what I call a dinner and a show,” said Harry, his cock standing up and ready to continue fucking, the sight of the two women cleaning each other having reignited his lust with a vengeance.

Sex friends - A Harry Potter tale - Chapter 4

Daphne’s smile was a razor’s edge, sharp and predatory, as she orchestrated the switch with the precision of a conductor. Neville, eager and oblivious, scrambled onto the bed, his five-inch cock already twitching with anticipation as he positioned himself over Susan. Daphne, meanwhile, guided Harry to the floor with a firm push, her hands already working to strip away the ruined, broken condom from his still-throbbing cock.

“Uh… Daphnee… eh, are you sure we can just do it like this…?” Harry muttered, his voice thick with excitement, his eyes locked on her glistening pussy. This time… I am gonna fuck Daphnee raw! The thought was a dark, thrilling promise.

“Eeeh? What are you talking about?... Oh, by the way, I have never had raw sex with my boyfriend,” Daphne purred, her voice a low, husky whisper. She guided his bare cock to her entrance, the head pressing against her slick folds. With a sudden, forceful motion, she squatted down, taking him all in one deep, wet thrust. A loud, drag-out moan tore from her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Aaaah! Yes! Just like that!”

On the bed, the dynamic was starkly different. Susan lay on her back, her legs still trembling from Harry’s relentless assault, her pussy red and swollen. Neville stood over her, his average five-inch cock sheathed in a fresh condom, looking at her with a mix of excitement and awe.

“Susan, you look sexier than usual,” Neville said, his voice earnest. He was completely blind to the truth—that she wasn’t sexier, but freshly fucked, her body still humming with the aftershocks of another man’s cock.

Susan’s mind, however, was a whirlwind of relief and dawning horror. Finally… I can be at ease, having sex with Neville, I don’t have to feel guilty for the pleasure I feel, and I can enjoy to my heart content while he fucks me. But the thought was hollow, a lie she was trying to tell herself. She looked at Neville’s eager face and muttered, “Eeeh?! But I don’t feel any different…” Her voice was drowned out by the cacophony erupting from the floor.

Daphne was in her own world, riding Harry with a frantic, desperate energy. “Oh GOD! Harry your cock just feel so good! I can feel it everywhere inside me, it is just way bigger, I can´t stop fucking it…. Ah… ahhh. please don’t stop, continue fucking me, fuck me harder, and make me cum so much that I lose my mind!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. She was putting on a show, every moan calculated, every movement exaggerated for maximum effect.

Harry, meanwhile, was lost in the sensation. Fuck, Daphnee´s bare pussy! It feels completely different from Susan! he reflected, his hands gripping her hips as she bounced on his lap. The wet, slapping sound of her ass against his thighs filled the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to her cries.

Susan’s eyes were drawn to the scene on the floor, her gaze fixated on the way Daphne’s pussy stretched around Harry’s massive cock. Wow! Look at how much her pussy is stretching, was my pussy stretching that much when he was fucking me? I still can´t believe that his gigantic cock fitted in me. The comparison was involuntary, a mental image she couldn’t shake. She turned her head back to Neville, her voice a forced whisper. “Hey, let´s do it too…”

“Aaaaah! I haven’t had your pussy in a while Susan!” Neville yelled, his excitement palpable as he guided his cock to her entrance. He pushed in, and Susan felt… nothing. Or almost nothing.

No way! He is already in!? I didn’t even felt when he entered me, if I was not watching him fuck me I wouldn’t have noticed!!!! The shock was a cold splash of reality. She could feel him moving, a faint, almost imperceptible friction, but it was nothing like the overwhelming, stretching fullness she had just experienced. His cock was too short, too thin, barely reaching past her entrance, let alone touching her womb or the sensitive spot Harry had hammered so relentlessly.

“Ooooh, it is been so long since we last had sex, now with my cured ED we will be fucking so much more!” Neville said with a smile, completely unaware of the gulf between his performance and Harry’s.

Susan forced a moan, her voice a pale imitation of the sounds she had made earlier. “Ah.. yeah… feels good..” she muttered, her eyes drifting back to the floor. She couldn’t help but compare. It feels so different… He is shorter, slimmer and not as hard as Harry´s…. His dick is barely touching my walls and he can’t dragged them along like before…. The more he moves and the harder he tries to fuck me, the more I can’t help but compare their dicks…!

On the floor, Daphne was reaching her peak. Harry’s hands were not idle; his right thumb was circling her clit with maddening precision, while his left hand pinched and rolled her left nipple, sending jolts of electricity through her body. “Aaaah! Aaaah! Hnnn! AAAAAAH!” she screamed, her body convulsing as a fresh gush of her juices wetted Harry’s belly and thighs.

Uugh! Daphnee is squeezing me like crazy… she just came really hard, Harry thought, feeling her pussy clamp down around him in a series of violent, milking contractions. He was close, so close, but Daphne had other plans. She slowed her movements, her breathing ragged, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she looked down at him, her eyes glinting with the satisfaction of a plan perfectly executed.

“I love bareback sex! It feels so different compared to just now in the hotel!” Daphne cried out, her voice a high, keening wail that bounced off the walls. She was riding Harry with a desperate, rhythmic violence, her thighs flexing as she used the length of his cock to its fullest potential. She would almost lift herself completely off him, hovering for a split second with just the thick head of his cock stretching her entrance, before slamming her hips down with a wet, slapping sound that echoed through the room. The impact drove him deep, his massive shaft dragging along her inner walls and punching against her womb with every descent, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her core. She had just cum, but the intensity of the sensation was addictive, and she was already chasing the next peak, her body moving with a frantic, instinctual need.

Harry’s hands gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, but his mind was elsewhere. It feels good, but… I can’t help but wonder how they are doing…. His vision was filled with the sight of Daphne’s back, the curve of her spine, the way her hair flew with each bounce, but his thoughts drifted to the bed. He could hear the faint, rhythmic creak of the mattress, the soft, almost inaudible moans from Susan, and the grunts of effort from Neville. The jealousy that had been simmering beneath the surface of his pleasure was now boiling over.

“Aaaah! I am cumming again!” Daphne screamed, her body seizing up as a second orgasm ripped through her in quick succession. Her pussy clamped down on his bare cock, milking it, trying to draw his seed from him. But Harry was focused on something else.

Right, this girl has a boyfriend… Damn it! Even though I got to fuck her bare pussy before her boyfriend, I am still feeling a little pissed! The thought was a cold, hard stone in his gut. He was sharing her, yes, but the fact that she belonged to Neville, that this was just a temporary arrangement, ignited a possessive, angry fire in him. He needed to assert himself, to brand her as his, even if just for this moment.

With a sudden, violent motion, he lifted her off his cock, the wet sound of separation echoing in the room. He spun her around and pushed her onto the bed, right next to where Neville was still thrusting into Susan. Daphne landed on all fours, her breasts pressing into the mattress, her ass presented perfectly to him. Harry didn’t waste a second. He lined himself up and drove back into her with a single, brutal thrust, his hips slapping against her ass cheeks with a sharp crack.

“Tell me! Does my dick feel good!? C’mon, tell me!” he yelled, his voice raw with anger and lust. He was railing her from behind now, each thrust a punishment, a claim. His right hand came down hard on her ass, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin.

Daphne, caught off guard by the sudden change in position and the force of his thrusts, could only gasp and grab the bedsheet, her knuckles turning white as she tried to anchor herself against the storm of sensation. “YES, IT FEELS SOO GOOOD!!!! IT IS HUGE AND MY PUSSY IS COMPLETELY STUFFED!” she screamed, her voice breaking as a third orgasm crashed over her. Her body convulsed, her legs trying to close, but Harry’s hips were in the way. A fresh gush of her juices sprayed from her pussy, wetting the bed and dripping down her thighs. Her asshole winked with each spasm of her pussy, a visual testament to the intensity of her pleasure.

Susan watched, her eyes wide, a deadpan expression on her face. She was still being fucked by Neville, but her attention was entirely on the couple on the floor. She saw Daphne’s face, contorted in ecstasy, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes watering with tears of pleasure. The contrast was stark. Daphne was experiencing a pleasure so profound it had broken her, while Susan felt only the faint, almost imperceptible friction of Neville’s five-inch cock.

“AAH! AHHHH! YOUR COCK IS GOING WILD INSIDE ME!!!, OH NOOO!I AM CUMMING AGAIN!!!!” Daphne had lost all control. Four orgasms in succession would do that to any woman, even she couldn’t have foreseen that her plan to get Harry to fuck her roughly was going to be so successful. Harry was squatting a little behind her, his hands gripping her hips, driving his cock deeper and rubbing against her G-spot with a precision that was driving her crazy.

(She looks so happy….it must feel really good….) Susan thought, her mind a haze of comparison and longing. She watched as Daphne had a face full of happiness, she couldn’t even close her mouth, her eyes watering with little tears running down her face as the continuous orgasms had completely broken any semblance of control she might have had. Her eyes were unfocused, and she had a look of adoration on her face.

“I am cumming inside Susan!!!” Neville grunted, his voice a single-focus declaration of his own release. While Susan was watching the other couple, he had continued fucking her, and now he was cumming inside the condom, his hips stuttering against her.

“Wow, so tight Daphnee, I am gonna cum! I am pulling out!” Harry felt his own climax building, the tight, wet heat of Daphne’s pussy, the way she milked him, the anger and possessiveness—it was all too much. He tried to warn her, to give her a chance to object.

“N-Noo! Just cum!” Daphne moaned, her voice a broken, pleasure-drunk slur. She wanted to feel his cum inside her, to have him mark her in the most primal way possible.

“Ok, got it!!” Harry roared. Hearing her consent, he lost all restraint. He began fucking her even harder, grabbing her arms and pulling them behind her back, using them as leverage to piston his hips with a furious, relentless rhythm. He was fucking her with all his might, his gigantic cock stretching her to her absolute limit, the head pounding against her cervix with each thrust.

“It is pouring inside! AAHHH! YOU ARE SHOOTING IT INSIDE! I AM CUMMING AGAIN!!!” Daphne screamed as she felt Harry’s cock push to the very end of her pussy, the head pressing hard against her womb. She felt spurt after spurt of hot, thick cum flood into her, coating her insides, filling her up in a way that made her vision go white. Her body went rigid, her back arching as the fifth and most powerful orgasm of the night tore through her, leaving her a trembling, sobbing mess beneath him.

The kiss was a shock, a sudden, wet intrusion that broke Susan’s trance. Daphne’s hand clamped onto the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her ginger hair, pulling her close as their lips met. Daphne’s tongue invaded her mouth, a desperate, sloppy exploration that tasted of sweat, sex, and the faint, metallic tang of Harry’s pre-cum. Susan’s eyes widened, her body tensing, a muffled sound of protest caught in her throat.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she spluttered, pulling back just enough to speak, her face flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson. She pushed weakly at Daphne’s shoulders, but the other woman was a dead weight, her body limp and trembling from her own relentless orgasms.

Daphne panted, her breath hot against Susan’s cheek. “It felt so good, I can’t even move my legs,” she slurred, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She was still on all fours, her body shuddering with aftershocks, a trail of her own fluids and Harry’s leaked cum dripping from her pussy onto the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, watched the scene with a dark, possessive satisfaction. Her pussy is overflowing with my cum…. he thought, watching as blob after blob of his pearly white seed rushed out of Daphne’s stretched pussy, staining the floorboards and leaking in a thick, steady stream. The sight was a trophy, a mark of his dominance.

“I want to fuck more!” he announced, his voice a low growl. He reached for another condom from the box, the one Daphne had provided, and carefully rolled it onto his still-throbbing cock. He made sure to hide the fact that the latex was already compromised, that the tip had a tiny, deliberate tear. He hopped onto the bed, positioning himself between Susan’s still-spread legs.

“Neville! You can have Daphnee once you are ready to go!” he called out, not taking his eyes off Susan.

Neville, who had been watching the exchange between the two women with a dazed, confused expression, was startled by Harry’s voice. He looked down at himself, his cock soft and pathetic, a mere two inches of limp flesh hanging dirty with the remains of his last orgasm. “O-okay… Ehh.. you can still go on?!” he stammered, baffled by Harry’s stamina. He watched as Harry positioned himself over Susan, then, deciding to give them privacy, turned his attention to the shuddering, cum-drenched form of Daphne beside the bed. The movement meant he didn’t see the condom, but Susan did.

HUH? Why is his tip sticking out….the condom is broken…. Susan’s thought was a lightning bolt of realization. She saw the latex sheath roll down his cock, but the very tip, the swollen, red head, remained exposed, glistening with pre-cum. The memory of the last time he was inside her, the raw, overwhelming sensation, clicked into place. Was it already broken the last time when it was inside me just now too…? But… if I say a word about this….

Harry saw the look of surprise on her face, the way her eyes darted to his exposed cockhead. Oh no! She noticed that the condom broke! Panic flared for a second, but then he saw her expression shift. The surprise melted into a determined, deeply embarrassed look. She didn’t speak. Instead, she brought her hands down between her own legs, her fingers trembling, and slowly, deliberately, spread her swollen, pink pussy lips, exposing her glistening, ready entrance to him. She was inviting him. She was asking for it, raw and bare, without saying a word.

Harry’s breath caught. Susan is spreading her pussy! This means…. He didn’t need to finish the thought. The invitation was clear. A determined look settled on his face, replacing the flicker of panic. He guided his bare cockhead to her entrance, the wet tip pressing against her slick folds.

With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her.

“AAAAAAAH! IT IS INNNNN! HNN! AAAHG!” Susan’s moan was loud, unrestrained, a sound of pure, ecstatic surrender that echoed off the bedroom walls. She didn’t care who heard. The feeling of his bare cock stretching her, filling her completely, was a revelation after the brief, disappointing interlude with Neville. The guilt that had been her constant companion since this began was now a distant memory, burned away by the searing heat of his penetration.

Neville, at the foot of the bed, watched with wide, uncomprehending eyes. He saw his girlfriend being fucked by his friend, her legs thrown wide, her body arched in pleasure, but his mind was too slow, too stunned to process the betrayal. His own cock, soft and useless, was a testament to his inadequacy.

Harry was lost in the sensation. Once again we are fucking right in front of her boyfriend, he reflected, a dark thrill coursing through him. The deeper I go, the tighter it becomes, it is obvious that deepest parts of her pussy were untouched before today. It is pretty different compared to Daphnee’s bare pussy. He could feel every ridge, every pulse of her inner walls, the raw, skin-on-skin friction driving him wild.

Susan was in a state of nirvana. His cock was dragging her insides, and after fucking Neville just now, she could pinpoint the difference with brutal clarity. Harry was fucking her pussy like it belonged to him, pounding into her womb with all his might, rubbing his head against a special zone she had discovered today at the very end of her pussy that, when struck, made her see stars.

Aaaah! AAAh! He is pressing on the spot that my boyfriend could never reach!….It is really different after all! Both the size and the stiffness! His cock feels way better! It doesn’t even compare!!! AAAAAH! Her internal monologue was a scream of realization and pleasure.

Does it feel better than before? Her reaction seems to says so… Harry thought, watching her moan and grind her teeth, trying to stifle the sounds but failing miserably. He placed her left leg on his right shoulder, changing the angle, gaining better traction, and pounded her pussy with all his might. He didn’t mind that she was trying not to cum; he wanted to make her cum so much, so hard, that she would forever remember him, this night, and the feeling of his bare cock inside her.

The pleasure was a tidal wave, a force of nature that swept Susan away completely. Her third orgasm in a row hit her with the force of a physical blow, her body arching off the bed as a strangled cry tore from her throat. “OOOOHH! AAH! NOOOO! I AM CUMMING AGAAAAIN!” she screamed, her voice cracking under the strain. Her pussy, already oversensitized and clenching around Harry’s bare cock, gave one final, violent spasm and then released a fresh gush of fluid, squirting around his shaft and soaking the sheets beneath them.

Harry felt it, the hot spray against his thighs, the way her inner walls milked him with a desperate, rhythmic intensity. He was piledriving her, his hips a piston of flesh and bone, and he took that moment to lean down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Your boyfriend is enjoying my girlfriend too….so don’t hold back! Enjoy my cock to its fullest too!”

Behind him, the scene was a study in obliviousness. Neville stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes glazed, his attention completely captured by Daphne. She had leaned into his side, her full breasts brushing against his chest, her hand working his limp cock with a practiced, coaxing rhythm. She was whispering encouragement, her touch gentle and focused, trying to revive him. Neville was lost in the sensation, his mind too fogged with the simple pleasure of her handjob to notice the symphony of ecstasy playing out just feet away.

Susan saw it all in a fractured, hazy glance. I see… The thought was a cold splash of clarity amidst the heat. Neville was distracted, lost in Daphne’s ministrations. He wasn’t watching. The guilt that had been a constant, gnawing presence in her gut finally, blessedly, dissolved.

“I´M CUMMING!!!! MY PUSSY IS CUMMING AGAIN!” she moaned, her voice a broken, beautiful thing. The second orgasm in quick succession was a sharp, electric shock that made her toes curl and her vision whiten at the edges.

“Ugh! You got so tight! I made you cum again, huh?! My cock feels much better than your boyfriend´s yeah?!” Harry taunted, his voice thick with triumph. He could feel her trying to bear the overwhelming pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

It feels so good when he is inside!! Susan contemplated, her last vestiges of resistance crumbling to dust. The pleasure was a tsunami, and she was done fighting it. She gave in completely, wrapping her legs around Harry’s hips and back, pulling him deeper, locking him in place. The new angle drove him impossibly deep, his cockhead kissing the entrance to her womb with every thrust. “YESSS! OHHH..AAAH! AAH!” she yelled, her voice echoing in the room.

Harry felt the shift, the way she surrendered, the way she pulled him in. He was close, so close, and a wicked idea formed. I am pretty sure I won´t be able to do this again, so….. He leaned close to her ear again, his breath hot. “I am wearing a rubber, so it is fine if I cum inside right?!” he whispered, a lie wrapped in a question.

“FUEE?! AAAAH AAAH YESSS! YESSSH! DO IT!!!!” Susan shuddered, the words ripped from her. The lie didn’t matter; the permission did. She felt his cock planted firmly against her womb, the head pressing into the delicate opening, a hot, passionate kiss. “CUM! CUM….INSIDE…! UGGGH…AH! AAH!” she begged, her legs tightening around him, pulling him closer than ever before.

She came again, her third orgasm in a row, the hardest of all. It was a detonation, a white-hot supernova of pleasure that made her lose all control. As Harry pushed spurt after spurt of his hot, thick semen into her womb, the sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that she felt a warm gush from her bladder. She was squirting and peeing at the same time, a complete loss of bodily control under the assault of pure ecstasy. Her face rippled with the pleasure, her mouth agape, her tongue hanging out, her eyes rolled back and unfocused.

OOOH! I am cumming! I am giving her a creampie! Harry ruminated, the thought a dark, triumphant roar in his mind. As he came, taking advantage of the fact that their faces were so close, he couldn’t help himself. He crashed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth as he continued to pump his seed deep into her womb. Uggh! I can´t stop cumming! The load was immense, the biggest of his life, a claiming, a branding, a final, definitive act of possession.

“AAAAAAH AHAAAAH AAAAH, IT KEEEPSSS……” Susan stopped kissing him, her head falling back against the mattress as she moaned harder, feeling the endless, hot pulses of his cum flooding her deepest parts. Harry slowly, reluctantly, pulled his cock from her pussy. Fortunately, his cum was so deep, her womb and pussy so full, that nothing leaked out immediately. It was a secret, hidden inside her.

At the same time, another stroke of luck unfolded. Neville had not seen the kiss, the final act of betrayal. Daphne’s timing was impeccable. As Harry and Susan had kissed, she had worked Neville’s limp cock with a final, expert twist of her wrist, and he had cum, his eyes squeezed shut in blissful ignorance.

“Huh?! You came while it is soft?!” Daphne mentioned, her voice a mix of bewilderment and sly amusement as she watched a small, watery trickle of cum leak from Neville’s cock, which remained disappointingly flaccid.

Her words brought Neville back to earth. He opened his eyes, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He looked from Daphne’s smug face to the bed, where Harry was now sitting back, breathing heavily, and Susan was panting, her body glistening with sweat.

From their point of view, they couldn’t see it, but Harry could. As he moved, he saw the first sign of his victory: a single, pearlescent drop of his cum, mixed with Susan’s love juices, began to leak from her pussy, tracing a slow, deliberate path down her inner thigh toward her asshole. The sight was intoxicating.

Oh! Noo.. He came inside me…So this is how it feels when a man gives you a creampie…. Susan’s chaotic thoughts were a storm of sensation and dawning realization, a secret she would now carry inside her, a memory of pure, unadulterated pleasure that no one else in the room could possibly understand.

Daphne’s smile was a predator’s grin as she watched the scene from the corner of her eye, her mind cataloging every detail. Well, that was really fun! she thought, a thrill of satisfaction coursing through her. She had orchestrated the entire evening, and the results were even better than she had anticipated. Susan was a trembling, cum-drunk mess, and Harry was left with a secret he could never confess.

With a fluid motion, Daphne walked to the bed, her body still glistening with sweat and the remnants of her own pleasure. She moved to Susan’s side, her hands quick and decisive. “Okay! We won’t take too long…” she said, her voice a low murmur as she scooped Susan up from the bed, her movements swift and practiced to avoid drawing Neville’s attention. She carried her to the bathroom, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

In the bedroom, the atmosphere was thick with a different kind of tension. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his cock softening, his mind racing. He couldn’t look Neville in the eye.

“Well, that was really fun!” Daphne’s voice echoed in his mind, a taunt and a promise. He forced a smile. “Uh… my friend… I am really glad your ED is cured,” he said, the words awkward and stilted.

Neville, oblivious, grimaced slightly. “Yeah, thanks… You really went all out on the last one, huh…?” His voice held a note of confusion, but he chalked it up to Harry’s enthusiasm.

“W-What are you talking about? I am jealous of you and your girlfriend! Besides, we got to do them the same number of times, so we are even…” Harry said, the words tumbling out too quickly, his nervousness evident.

Neville laughed, a short, barking sound. “HHAHAAH… you are right, we are even now!” The misunderstanding was complete, and Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief.

In the bathroom, the scene was entirely different. The air was steamy, the sound of running water filling the small space. Susan was leaning against the cool tile of the wall, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasms, when she felt a pair of hands on her ass. She startled, her heart leaping into her throat, and turned her head.

Daphne was on her knees behind her, her hands gripping Susan’s ass cheeks, spreading them wide. Her face was inches from Susan’s pussy and asshole, her breath hot against her skin.

“W-what are you doing Daphnee!!!” Susan let out with a startle, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

Daphne looked up, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, I know you are full of Harry’s cum, as I saw it leaking out of you, when we entered inside the bathroom, and you know what I want to taste it out of you. I want to taste if it taste different mixed with your pussy juices.” Her smile was wicked, her intent clear.

Susan’s mind raced. She could protest, she could push Daphne away, but the threat hung in the air, unspoken but understood. Daphne knew her secret.

“So what do you prefer,” Daphne continued, her voice a silky purr, “that I lick you clean of Harry’s creampie or that I mentioned Neville that you knew that Harry was bareback and that you let him creampied you?” The blackmail was delivered with a smile, but it was no less potent for it.

Susan’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “O-Okay!” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She relaxed slightly, leaning more heavily against the wall, presenting herself to Daphne.

Daphne didn’t waste a moment. She inclined Susan against the wall, positioning her so her pussy and asshole were on full display. Then, she leaned in and began to lap at Susan’s pussy, her tongue a warm, wet probe searching for the remnants of Harry’s creampie. She licked and licked, cleaning Susan of all his cum, her tongue teasing and flicking over Susan’s clitoris with maddening precision. Susan shuddered with each touch, her body responding despite her mind’s protest.

After approximately five minutes of this relentless oral attention, Daphne finished her task. She got up and grabbed Susan by the neck, pulling her into a deep, possessive kiss. She shared a bunch of Harry’s creampie with Susan through the kiss, her tongue forcing the mixture of cum and juices into Susan’s mouth, not stopping until she felt Susan swallow.

Susan was really close to cumming when this happened, and she whined a bit when Daphne stopped right on the edge to give her a kiss. But all her complaints vanished when she felt Daphne’s tongue move lower, licking and tonguing her asshole. The sensation was entirely new, a shocking, intense pleasure that she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling. Before she knew it, she started cumming for the last time of the night.

“AAAAH AAAHH I AM CUMMING!!!” Susan came really hard, her asshole clenching around Daphne’s tongue, her body convulsing as a final, shattering orgasm ripped through her.

Daphne got up from her position, a satisfied smile on her face. She looked down at Susan, who was now a puddle of spent, trembling flesh against the bathroom wall.

“Now you can clean yourself… I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship,” Daphne said, her voice dripping with sweet, sinister promise.

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The water cascaded over Susan’s skin, a warm, cleansing stream that did little to wash away the phantom sensations still echoing through her body. She stood beneath the showerhead, her eyes closed, her hands absently scrubbing at her arms, her breasts, her belly. The scent of soap and steam filled the small bathroom, but beneath it, she could still smell the musk of sex, the faint, salty tang of sweat and arousal that seemed to cling to her pores.

I can still feel it inside me… she reflected, a shiver running through her that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. She could feel the ghost of Harry’s cock, the way it had stretched her, filled her, carved a path deep into her most intimate places. The memory of his cum, hot and thick, flooding her womb, was a weight she could still sense, a secret she now carried within her.

The shower curtain rustled, and Daphne stepped in beside her, her body slick and gleaming under the water. She didn’t speak, just moved close, her hands coming up to cup Susan’s face, turning her head, and kissing her deeply. It was a slow, possessive kiss, her tongue exploring Susan’s mouth as her hands wandered, one cupping a breast, thumb circling a nipple, the other slipping between Susan’s legs to rub gently at her pussy lips.

“You are having heavy thoughts, relax… no one will know what happened,” Daphne murmured against her lips, her voice a soothing balm over Susan’s frayed nerves. The kiss deepened, a silent promise of secrecy, of complicity.

They showered together, the water washing away the evidence of their afternoon, but not the memory. When they emerged, wrapped in towels, they were fresh, clean, and outwardly composed.

Back in the bedroom, the atmosphere had shifted. Neville was in the shower, the sound of running water echoing from the bathroom. Daphne, ever curious, ever calculating, began to snoop around Neville’s room. Her eyes scanned the space, taking in the mundane details of a man’s private sanctuary, until they landed on his computer.

With a few clicks, she unlocked it—his password was embarrassingly simple, his birthdate—and began to browse. What she found was a treasure trove of secrets. A collection of porn, organized into meticulous folders, a variety of themes and genres, much of it focused on different methods of achieving an erection, of curing his ED without success. There were videos of prostate massage, of Cialis advertisements, of desperate men trying to reclaim their virility.

But it was a physical object that caught her eye, tucked away in a desk drawer. A book, its cover worn, titled Prostate Massage: A Guide to Healing and Pleasure. Beside it, nestled in a velvet-lined case, was a prostate massager, sleek and black, clearly unused.

Daphne’s eyes lit up with a wicked gleam. She picked up the book and the massager, holding them up for Susan and Harry to see. Susan, who had been sitting on the bed, looked over with a confused, innocent expression. She didn’t understand.

Harry, however, took one look at the objects and his eyes met Daphne’s. A silent, shared understanding passed between them, a synchronized thought that needed no words.

HIS ED REALLY BOTHERED HIM…

The implication was clear. Neville’s struggle wasn’t just a minor inconvenience; it was a deep, consuming insecurity, a source of shame that he had tried to cure in secret. The book, the device—they were evidence of his desperation.

Daphne set the items down on the bed, her smile sharp and knowing. “Look what I found,” she said, her voice light, but her eyes fixed on Susan, waiting for her to piece it together. Susan stared at the book and the massager, her brow furrowed in confusion, completely unaware of the dark, intimate truth they represented.

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A sharp, frustrated sigh escaped Susan’s lips, a sound lost beneath the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh coming from the couch. Her eyes, narrowed and burning with a cold fire, were locked on Neville’s back. He was a blur of motion, his hips pistoning with a frantic, almost animalistic energy, driving his five-inch cock into Daphne with a fervor that Susan had never seen directed at her. He was lost in it, completely absorbed in the novelty of another woman’s body, his face a mask of blissful ignorance.

Stupid Neville! she thought, the words a bitter mantra in her head. He doesn’t hesitate at all! He doesn’t even look over here! The hypocrisy was a physical weight on her chest. He had set the rules—no kissing, condoms mandatory—as if that were a magical barrier that made this all perfectly acceptable, a clinical transaction rather than a raw, emotional betrayal. And he was following them with a terrifying, single-minded focus, while she was the one drowning in guilt, her body betraying her with every thrust of Harry’s hips.

Harry, sensing her distraction, tightened his grip on her legs, lifting them higher, spreading her wider. The head of his sheathed cock, still slick with her own arousal, pressed insistently against her entrance. He saw the conflict in her eyes, the way her gaze kept darting to the couch, and he used it.

“Neville is having sex with my precious girlfriend, so it’s only fair I get to do the same right?” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble against her ear. It wasn’t really a question. It was a justification, a key turning in the lock of her resistance.

He began to penetrate her, slowly but with an unyielding determination. The initial push was a revelation. Susan’s breath hitched, her back arching off the mattress as a long, ragged moan tore from her throat.

“Aaah! It is sooo big! I feel it dragging my insides, I feel so full! Aaah! Aaah…”

Her internal monologue was a scream of disbelief. What the…. I am being stretched so much… It feels completely different from Neville! The sensation was not just of being filled, but of being claimed. Harry’s cock was splitting her apart, parting her swollen, pink lips with a relentless, stretching pressure that was both overwhelming and intensely, perversely pleasurable. He had to go slow, despite her being completely drenched, the sheer size of him demanding a careful, measured entry.

Finally, I am penetrating her…. I am fucking my friend’s girlfriend! The thought was a triumphant, dark thrill that surged through Harry. He pushed deeper, his hips meeting the soft, yielding flesh of her inner thighs. “We have become one, Susan! Your pussy feels incredible, Susan!” he exclaimed, his voice thick with his own pleasure. He leaned forward, his weight settling on her, and drove his cock as deep as he could possibly go.

Susan let out an involuntary, high-pitched cry when she felt the thick, veined shaft rub directly against the rough, ridged patch of her G-spot. The sensation was a jolt of pure, electric pleasure that short-circuited her brain.

Hnn! Oh no… ahhh… aaaaah! Another man’s dick went inside me… Why does it feel so good…. Aaaah!

Harry paused, buried to the hilt, feeling the tight, clenching walls of her pussy hugging him. He encountered a slight, firm resistance deep inside. Huh!? I can’t go in too deep, maybe her pussy is this small…. The realization that he might be too big for her, that he was hitting her absolute limit, only fueled his desire.

Susan, her eyes glazed, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, managed to speak. “I have…. never had one this big before….” The admission was a whisper, a confession of her own inexperience and the sheer, physical shock of his size.

Harry looked down at her face, flushed and contorted with a mixture of pain and pleasure. That face she is making….is so sexy. “Don’t worry… I will try my best to be gentle…” he said, the words a stark contrast to the hard, possessive thrusts that immediately followed.

He began to fuck her in earnest. He picked her legs up, hooking them over his shoulders, changing the angle, opening her up even more. He was fucking her with all his might, and Susan was completely losing control. She couldn’t stifle her moans, couldn’t form coherent words. She was a creature of pure sensation, her world narrowed to the immense, stretching fullness between her legs and the maddening, perfect friction against her G-spot with every thrust.

Next to them, the scene on the couch played out like a lewd parody. Neville was still hammering away at Daphne, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. Daphne, for her part, was a master of performance. She let out a staged, breathy moan every few seconds, her body moving in a calculated rhythm designed to keep Neville focused and aroused, even though her own pleasure was clearly minimal. Her eyes, when they flickered open, held a glint of amused detachment.

Harry, meanwhile, was lost in the tight, wet heat of Susan. I am sorry, Neville….but I am going in! he thought, a dark, triumphant satisfaction warming his chest. He adjusted his grip on her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and began to push with controlled, hard trusts, going deeper than he had before.

“Ah!.. ah! Aaaaah! No way, there is more????!!” Susan breathed out, her voice a shocked, ecstatic gasp. She felt him push past a new threshold, a depth she had never experienced with Neville. His cock was rubbing against every inch of her inner walls, a comprehensive, thorough invasion. Then, with a final, deep thrust, he felt it—the firm, yielding resistance of her cervix. He was massaging it, knocking on the door to her womb with the broad head of his cock.

I have never felt anything like this before! AAaaaah! My insides are being pushed around! It feels so good deep inside me! The sensation was profound, a deep, internal pleasure that radiated from her core outward, making her toes curl and her fingers clutch at the sheets. She felt like electricity was spreading from her pussy and her womb to every nerve ending in her body. The feeling of his cock, even sheathed in latex, was so immense it felt like she was being split apart, and yet, the pleasure was undeniable, addictive.

What made her even crazier with horniness was the visual. Even buried as deep as he was, a significant portion of Harry’s massive cock was still outside of her, glistening and hard, a testament to the sheer, overwhelming size of him.

HAHAHA, Neville! Your girlfriend is gonna get used to dicks my size! She would not feel you anymore! Harry’s thought was a gleeful, malicious crow of victory. He was not just fucking Susan; he was reprogramming her, stretching her, claiming her in a way her boyfriend never could.

“Wait! Too rough! NO! Slow down!” Susan moaned, her voice a desperate, pleading whimper. But Harry was already committed. He got into a mating press, his chest pressed against hers, his weight pinning her to the bed, and started to drive his dick down into her pussy with a new, punishing rhythm. Harder, deeper, faster. He was fucking her with all his might, using his big dick as a hammer, aiming to drive her over the edge into another, even more powerful orgasm.

The rhythm of Harry’s thrusts became a punishing, relentless drumbeat against Susan’s senses. Each impact drove the air from her lungs in a sharp, ecstatic gasp. “I have been wanting to cum from the moment we did the 69, you got to cum but I couldn’t,” he growled, his voice a low vibration against her ear as he hammered deeper, his hips slapping wetly against her inner thighs. He was chasing his own release, using her body as the vessel to achieve it.

Susan’s mind was a maelstrom of conflict and overwhelming sensation. Noo! This is another man’s dick! I shouldn’t…. The protest was a faint, distant echo, drowned out by the roaring tide of pleasure building within her. Her body, betraying every ounce of her loyalty, was coiling tight, the muscles in her abdomen clenching. I am cumming… I am gonna cum… It is cumming like a wave… I am cumminnnnnng!

“Fuaaa! Ah! Aaaah! Ahh! I am cumming!” she screamed, her voice cracking. The orgasm hit her like a physical blow, more intense than the first, a white-hot supernova that exploded behind her eyes. Her toes curled so hard they cramped, her back arched off the bed, and a guttural groan tore from her throat. Her pink nipples hardened into sharp, aching points, and a fresh sheen of sweat broke out across her skin, glistening in the dim light. Her eyes went misty and unfocused, the pleasure so profound it felt like it was melting her mind, erasing every thought but the raw, screaming need for release.

Harry felt it the instant it happened. Her pussy, already tight, suddenly clamped down around him with the force of a vise, the inner walls spasming in rhythmic, milking contractions. OOOh! Her pussy is cramping and clamping! She is milking my dick! The sensation was exquisite, a tight, wet suction that pulled at his own climax, drawing it from him with irresistible force. He buried himself as deep as he could go, his cockhead kissing her cervix, and let go.

A hot, pulsing flood filled the condom, the sensation of his own release muffled but still intensely pleasurable. Susan felt it, the rhythmic throbbing of his cock through the thin latex, the heat of his cum trapped against her sensitive walls, and it prolonged her own orgasm, sending fresh waves of pleasure crashing through her.

“I came so much! That felt great, Susan!” Harry gasped, his body shuddering as he emptied himself. He slowly, reluctantly, pulled his cock from her pussy with a wet, sucking sound. The condom was visibly full, a milky white balloon at the tip.

Susan collapsed back onto the bed, a wreck of a woman. Her pussy was red and inflamed, a testament to the rough fucking she’d just endured. Her love juice, mixed with the remnants of her own arousal, ran in sticky trails down her thighs, drenching her asshole and soaking into the sheets beneath her. She was utterly exhausted, her limbs heavy and useless. She couldn’t even close her legs; they remained splayed open, a wanton display of her well-fucked state.

Harry looked down at his cock, still semi-hard and glistening. Damn! I came so much! But I can still go on! Let’s change the rubber. He reached for the box of condoms Daphne had provided, his fingers fumbling slightly with the wrapper. He unrolled a new one, but as he tried to place it on his cockhead, he felt a strange resistance. He looked closer.

Huh?! It broke?! The tip of the condom had split, a tiny tear right at the reservoir. He frowned, examining it. Actually… on closer look, all the other condoms Daphnee gave me already had holes into them! His eyes scanned the remaining condoms in the box. Each one had a small, deliberate puncture in the center of the latex, a pinprick of sabotage.

His head snapped up, his gaze locking onto Daphne. She was still on all fours on the couch, Neville behind her, his movements becoming more frantic, more erratic. Daphne, however, was looking right at Harry. A wicked, knowing smirk played on her lips, her eyes glinting with malicious amusement. She gave him a slow, deliberate thumbs-up.

She did this on purpose! The realization hit him like a lightning bolt. Wait, maybe this is what she meant by “making it up to you” when we left the hotel! The memory of her whispered promise in the hotel room, the sly look in her eye, all clicked into place. She had orchestrated this. She had planned for him to fuck Susan bareback.

As this revelation processed, a final, shuddering groan erupted from Neville. His hips stuttered, his back arched, and he came into his own condom with a series of weak, shuddering thrusts. He collapsed forward onto Daphne’s back, panting, completely spent.

Daphne’s smile widened. She patted Neville’s flank condescendingly. “Ah, you came…” she said, her voice dripping with a sweet, patronizing tone that the blissfully oblivious Neville mistook for affection.

Harry’s mind was made up in an instant. A surge of dark, triumphant glee shot through him. I am seriously sorry, Neville, but it looks like I will be tasting her bare pussy first…. He discarded the broken condom, his cock already hardening again, the head a deep, angry red.

He moved back between Susan’s splayed thighs. She was still panting, her chest rising and falling in shallow, exhausted breaths. The last orgasm had left her too weak to move, her muscles trembling with fatigue. Her pussy and clit twitched sporadically, sensitive and overstimulated, yet still hungry.

Oh no! He is going in again… But I still can’t move my body after I came… Susan’s thought was a hazy, distant panic, her body too drained to obey her mind’s command to flee.

Harry positioned himself, his bare cockhead pressing against her slick, swollen folds. From this angle, only he could see the truth—the thick, unshielded shaft, the reddened head glistening with pre-cum. From Susan’s angle, her vision still blurry from the aftershocks, she couldn’t focus enough to see the details. If Neville were to glance over, he would only see the base of the condom still loosely wrapped around the base of Harry’s cock, the tip hidden from view. Daphne, even if she couldn’t see, knew exactly what was happening.

With a swift, hard motion, Harry thrust his hips forward. He penetrated her in one smooth, brutal push, his bare cock sliding into her pussy with no barrier, no latex to dull the sensation.

Susan’s cry was immediate and involuntary. “Aaaah! AH! AAAAH!” The pleasure was a shockwave, more intense, more real than anything she had felt before. He filled her completely in a single, devastating moment, his cock touching her G-spot, her cervix, and a secret, sensitive place deep inside that made her see stars every time his glans brushed against it.

Good God! This feels better than I thought! My instinct is taking over my ability to reason! I can’t stop thrusting my hips! Harry’s thought was a primal roar. The sensation of her bare, wet, clenching walls was infinitely better than through a condom. He was fucking her harder now, possessed by a need to claim her, to brand her from the inside. He hammered her pussy and womb like a man gone mad, using all his strength to drive Susan toward another, shattering climax, determined to leave his mark on her in the most intimate way possible.

The sensation was alien, a profound and shocking shift in the very texture of reality. Susan’s mind, hazy with the aftermath of her previous climaxes, struggled to process the new input. As Harry’s bare cock thrust into her, the friction was different—smoother, yet more intense, a raw, skin-on-skin heat that seemed to bypass her nerves and ignite something primal deep in her spine.

Huh….? What is this…? It feels completely different from before!! Her internal monologue was a scream of confusion and dawning, terrifying pleasure. I feel like I am about to cum everything he push into me! This familiar feeling of being completely full…but somehow compared to before…. It feels like my inside are being dragged along every time he thrust!

Harry was lost in the sensation, his rhythm becoming a frantic, driving beat. He was fucking her like a man possessed, his cock a battering ram against her delicate walls, stretching her completely, the broad head dragging along her most sensitive internal ridges with every powerful stroke. He watched her face, flushed a deep, beautiful crimson, her mouth open in a silent O of ecstasy, and thought she was the most stunning thing he had ever seen.

Aaaaah! Susan’s bare pussy feels so good! It is so wet and tight! he thought, his own pleasure mounting at an alarming rate. She squeezes every time I touch her womb with my cock, it is like she is milking me! I am having bareback sex with Susan and no one knows! The secret, the risk, the sheer wrongness of it all only heightened the thrill. He grabbed her legs, closing them together and placing them both on his right shoulder, a position that compressed her pussy, making it even tighter, and allowed him to drive his cock impossibly deeper.

Susan was having the time of her life, a fact she would vehemently deny later. With each of Harry’s thrusts, a small, sharp orgasm detonated within her, a series of mini-crests that left her breathless and trembling. She was moaning like a bitch in heat, her eyes unfocused and glossy, her beautiful ginger hair a sweaty tangle on the mattress. She turned her head to the side, a desperate attempt to avoid seeing Harry’s triumphant face or, worse, catching a glimpse of Neville and feeling the crushing weight of her guilt.

“Wait…Aaah…ahhh…Harry..Ahh…ahhh…stop!...ah…I…am…cumming…. I´M CUMMING!” she cried out, her voice a ragged plea. She was trying to hold it back, to fight the inevitable, but Harry was relentless. He pounded her faster, harder, driving her over the edge with brutal efficiency. She came harder than before, a scream tearing from her throat as her body convulsed. Her pussy clamped down on his bare cock with a vise-like grip, so tight he felt the circulation in his own dick strain. A fresh gush of her juices sprayed from her, wetting the bed beneath them in a warm, audible rush. Her toes curled, her eyes squeezed shut, and an electric current seemed to arc through her entire nervous system.

“HN! UHHH! OHHHH!” she breathed out, the sounds raw and animalistic.

Guuuuh! I am about to cum! Harry’s own control was shattering. The intense, milking contractions of her bare pussy were too much. He barely managed to pull back at the last second, his cock pulsing violently as he held back his own release. Phew, I managed to hold it in somehow….sex without a rubber feels so different. The sensation of her inner heat, unfiltered by latex, was a drug he was already addicted to.

“Wait Harry let me take a break!” Susan gasped, her voice frantic. She could feel another orgasm building, a terrifying, inevitable wave, and she was terrified of it.

“Susan! Susan! I am about to cum!” Harry yelled, his own voice strained with the effort of holding back.

From the couch, Neville’s voice cut through the haze. He had finally softened, his cock slipping from Daphne, and he was watching the couple with a flicker of annoyance. “Huh? Are they already on the second round right now?” he muttered, his ego bruised.

Daphne, who had been maintaining a soft, sucking rhythm on Neville’s average cock, noticed his irritation. She pulled off with a wet pop, a sly, calculating look in her eyes. She had achieved her first objective—Susan was now a trembling, oversensitized mess, her body primed and aching for a cock that could truly fill her.

“Hey, let’s switch!” Daphne announced, her voice bright and cheerful. “I want to be fucked by my boyfriend too!”

Fuuuuh… finally, it is over… I felt as if I was losing my mind and was really closed to cumming again, Susan thought, a wave of profound relief washing over her as Harry, with a frustrated grunt, pulled his bare cock from her clinging pussy. He turned to the smiling Daphne, his own frustration evident.

“Huh? Oh! Okay…” Harry said, his voice tight. He was not happy. He had been on the edge, ready to paint Susan’s insides with his cum, to complete the act in the most intimate way possible. Now, he was being denied, left throbbing and desperate.

What none of them realized was the intricate, malicious web Daphne had woven. This was all part of her plan. By having Harry fuck Susan into a state of near-mindless, oversensitized pleasure, she was setting a new benchmark. When Susan now had sex with Neville, the difference in size, girth, and the sheer intensity of sensation would be impossible to ignore. It would be a comparison that would sear itself into Susan’s conscious and unconscious mind, a secret standard against which her boyfriend would forever fall short.

For Neville, Daphne didn’t care. He was a tool, a means to an end. The end was Susan, who would now be hot, bothered, and desperately needing a release that her boyfriend couldn’t provide, all while Harry, edged and furious, would fuck Daphne with a punishing, desperate intensity that would leave her screaming. It was a perfect, devious circle of lust and manipulation, and Daphne was at its center, pulling all the strings.

If you want to contact or support me, or find more of my work, find me at https://linktr.ee/elarchonte

Chapter 2:

The rain hadn’t just fallen—it had shattered the afternoon, a sudden violent downpour that sent people scrambling like ants under a boot. Harry had been halfway to the subway when the sky opened up, and in his blind dash for the nearest overhang, he’d collided with a soft, warm body already sheltering there. A muffled “oof” escaped her, and he stammered an apology, stepping back to give her space while water streamed from his hair into his eyes.

It was only after a moment, as he wiped his face, that he noticed the smirks. A couple hurrying past, sharing a knowing glance. An older man waiting under a shop awning across the street, grinning openly. Harry followed their gaze to the neon sign above the entrance he’d ducked under—a soft pink heart, the words “Paradise Hour” in looping cursive, and beneath it, smaller but unmistakable: Love Hotel. Hourly Rates.

Heat flooded his cheeks. He risked a glance at the girl beside him. She was brushing droplets from her slender arms, her profile sharp and elegant against the gray sheet of rain. She must have noticed the sign too, because when she turned, her blue eyes—huge, crystalline, the color of a tropical lagoon—met his with a flicker of amusement.

“Quite the storm,” she said, her voice a smooth alto. She nodded toward the street, where rain now bounced knee-high off the pavement. “We might be here a while.”

Harry mumbled agreement. The awkwardness thickened, fed by every new arrival who glanced at them, a young man and a stunning blonde standing shoulder-to-shoulder under the glowing heart, and drew the obvious conclusion. Her cream-colored summer dress was already damp, clinging to the gentle curve of her hips and the long, toned lines of her thighs. Her hair, the shade of ripe wheat, fell just between her shoulder blades, and when she tucked a strand behind her ear, he saw the delicate shell of it, the elegant line of her neck.

After five minutes of silent, agonizing proximity, she sighed. “Look, I’m getting splashed, and you’re drowning in secondhand embarrassment. They think we’re a couple here to rent a room. Why don’t we… make it true? Just to get out of the rain.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“We go in, rent a room for an hour, wait out the storm in dry comfort. No one has to know we’re not… you know.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug, but a playful smirk touched her lips. “Unless you’re scared.”

Pride, foolish and male, straightened his spine. “I’m not scared. It’s just… practical.”

“Very practical,” she agreed, and pushed the glass door open.

The lobby was dim, lit by violet sconces, with plush carpet that swallowed sound. A discreet clerk behind frosted glass took Harry’s cash without eye contact, slid a keycard across the counter, and murmured, “Room 307. Elevator to your left.”

The room was exactly what he feared and, in a secret, shameful corner of his mind, hoped it would be. A large circular bed dominated the space, covered in black satin sheets. A mirrored ceiling reflected the whole scene back at them. A low hum of air conditioning couldn’t mask the faint, sweet scent of disinfectant and something else—something musky, primal.

“Home sweet home,” the girl said dryly, dropping her small purse on a velvet chair. She walked to the window, peering through the blinds at the relentless rain. “This might take longer than an hour.”

Harry stood frozen just inside the door, his mind a riot. Nothing was going to happen. Of course not. They were strangers. But God, she was beautiful. And this room, with its very purpose hanging in the air like incense, was making his blood thrum. He imagined those long legs wrapped around his waist, that blonde hair fanned out on the black satin, her back arching as he—

“Hey.”

Her voice pulled him from the fantasy. She had turned from the window and was studying him, head tilted. Her gaze traveled over him—his broad shoulders strained against his wet shirt, his tousled dark hair, down to his jeans and back up. That smirk returned, fuller now, more knowing.

“Since we’re already here,” she said, taking a slow step toward him, “how about I repay your generosity for paying for this room for both of us?”

Before he could process the words, she closed the distance. Her hands came up to frame his face, cool and sure, and she kissed him.

It wasn’t tentative. It was a claiming. Her lips were soft but insistent, parting his with practiced ease, and her tongue swept into his mouth. The shock melted under a wave of pure, electric heat. Harry groaned into the kiss, his hands moving of their own volition to grip her waist, pulling her flush against him. He could feel every curve through the thin fabric of her dress, the swell of her breasts against his chest.

The kiss deepened, turned frantic. Hands began to roam, to tug, to pull. His shirt was yanked over his head and discarded. Her dress buttons proved a fumble, until she impatiently shimmied the whole thing down, letting it pool at her feet. She stood before him in only matching lace underwear—cream, like her skin—and Harry’s breath caught. Her breasts were perfect B-cups, high and round with nipples already peaked hard and pink against the lace. His mouth watered.

“Like what you see?” she breathed, her own eyes drinking him in. She traced the defined lines of his six-pack, her fingers skating lower, over the trail of hair leading down. When her palm cupped him through his jeans, she gasped softly. “Wow. You are already really hard.”

Harry’s face flamed. “O-Of course,” he stammered, trying for nonchalance and failing utterly. “Anyone would get hard after a kiss like that.”

She giggled, a low, husky sound, and pressed her hand more firmly. She began to knead him through the denim, her eyes widening with delight. “And what an amazing tool. I’m going to enjoy myself very much tonight.” She unbuckled his belt, popped the button, and dragged his jeans and boxers down in one motion. His cock sprang free, fully erect, thick and long and curving slightly upward. She stared, genuine awe on her face. “Now that I think about it,” she whispered, “I’ve never seen someone as big as you are.”

Prise, hot and fierce, burst in Harry’s chest. He swelled even further under her gaze.

Then she sank to her knees.

“Let me kiss your cock too,” she said, her voice gone smoky.

“Whoa! What?” Harry jolted, hands half-reaching to stop her. “You’re not… grossed out by it?”

His protest died as her lips, lush and warm, closed over the broad head. Her tongue darted out, licking a firm stripe along the sensitive underside of his crown. A bolt of pleasure shot straight to his spine. “Ooooh!” The moan was ripped from him. “You’re licking… the underside of my tip… aah!”

She hummed in approval, the vibration traveling through his entire length. She took him deeper, her mouth a wet, hot heaven, her tongue working eagerly as if he were the most delicious treat she’d ever tasted. Her hands cradled his balls, rolling them gently, then stroked the thick base of his shaft. She was an expert, moving with a confident rhythm that had his knees trembling.

With a sudden, surprising strength, she pushed him backward. He landed on the edge of the circular bed, and she climbed over him, straddling his hips. Still holding his gaze, she reached back, unhooked her bra, and let it fall. Her breasts swayed free, creamy and perfect. He wanted to devour them, to suck those pink nipples until she screamed.

But she wasn’t done. Still kneeling over him, she turned, presenting him with the breathtaking view of her back, the elegant dip of her spine, and the glorious, plump rounds of her ass, barely contained by her tiny lace panties. She hooked her thumbs in the sides and began to peel them down.

They were soaked. The pale lace was dark with her arousal, clinging to her folds as she pulled, revealing the glistening pink slit of her pussy. Juices had already slicked her inner thighs. The scent of her—musky, sweet, intensely female—hit him, and he groaned.

She looked over her shoulder, her blue eyes heavy-lidded. “If you think it looks good,” she purred, her voice a sinful promise, “wait until you taste and smell my pussy when I’m facesitting you.”

The image—her weight on his face, that wet heat smothering him—made his cock jerk violently. A bead of precum welled and spilled from his slit.

She moved swiftly, turning her body around and climbing up his torso. True to her word, she brought her plump ass and dripping pussy to his face, lowering herself until her folds hovered just above his mouth. Her arousal dripped onto his chin, his lips. He could see everything—the neat strip of blonde hair on her mound, the swollen, glistening lips of her pussy, the darker, puckered rose of her asshole just behind. It was obscene. It was magnificent.

He grabbed her thighs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and pulled her down onto his waiting mouth.

This is my first time doing a 69, he thought deliriously, as her own head descended and she took his cock back into her throat. I’m looking at her pussy while she sucks me off. What a turn on!

He licked her like a starving man. A long, flat stroke from her perineum up through her soaked slit. She gasped around his cock, her body shuddering. He zeroed in on her clitoris, a hard little pearl peeking from its hood, and sucked it gently, then flicked it with the tip of his tongue.

“Mmmph!” The vibration around his shaft was incredible. She was sucking him with fierce dedication, bobbing her head, using her hands to stroke what she couldn’t fit into her mouth. She was milking him, the pressure building in his balls with terrifying speed. He was losing himself, about to be undone by her mouth alone.

Determined to reciprocate, he plunged two fingers inside her. She was so tight, so hot and silken. He crooked them, searching, scissoring them gently as he continued to lap at her clit. Her moans grew higher, more desperate. He felt a different texture inside—a rougher, ridged patch on her upper wall. He pressed the pads of his fingers against it.

“Aaaahn!” Her cry was muffled by his cock, but her entire body convulsed. A fresh gush of fluid coated his fingers and chin.

“It feels different in here…” Harry panted, withdrawing his fingers only to massage that spot again with a circling motion. “This must be your weak spot.”

“Nooooo, not there!” she wailed, but it was a plea for more, not less. Her hips ground against his face, riding his fingers and tongue. He kept the pressure steady, rubbing her G-spot in time with the suction of his mouth on her clit.

She shattered. A raw, guttural scream tore from her as her body bowed, then she collapsed forward, her pussy spasming wildly against his mouth. A hot jet of fluid—not just juices, but a true, pulsing squirt—hit his tongue and chin. The taste was salty, musky, profoundly erotic.

She rolled off him, boneless, panting on the black satin beside him. A deep blush painted her chest and cheeks. Her eyes were glazed, tears of pleasure clinging to her lashes. She looked utterly wrecked.

“No one,” she breathed, her voice hoarse, “has ever made me cum like that.” She turned her head to look at him, a soft, dazed smile on her lips. “You’ve earned the right to call me by my name. I’m Daphne.”

Daphne. The name suited her—mythical, beautiful, a little dangerous.

Emboldened, Harry moved over her. He spread her legs wide, gazing at the beautiful mess he’d made of her. Her pussy lips were flushed dark pink, swollen, still glistening and twitching. She lay with her arms above her head, sweat and his saliva drying on her skin, a portrait of debauched bliss.

He fumbled for his wallet, retrieved a condom, and sheathed himself with hands that shook. He was so hard it was almost painful.

“Oooh,” he groaned, positioning himself at her entrance. “Here I go, Daphne.”

He pushed in. The resistance was exquisite. She was unbelievably tight, her inner walls clamping around him like a velvet fist. He was not just long, but thick, and he felt every ridge and fold of her accommodate him, stretch for him. As the head of his cock passed over that rough patch inside her, she cried out.

“Oh God! It’s so big!” Her back arched off the bed. “Oooh! Aaaah!”

He sank deeper, inch by devastating inch, until he was fully sheathed, his hips pressed against her. She felt impossibly full, stretched to her limit. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in a silent ‘O’ of shock.

“Oh God,” she whimpered, “there’s more?”

He began to move. Slow, deep pulls that dragged his entire length almost out, then slammed back home. The sound of flesh meeting flesh, wet and rhythmic, filled the room. Her ability to form words dissolved into a continuous stream of moans, grunts, and choked pleas. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging in.

“Oh crap! This pussy… Daphne, your insides are so tight!” Harry gritted out, the sensation overwhelming. “I can feel your walls squeezing me!”

“Oh, Harry, you feel… so good,” she managed between gasps. “I’ve never… had someone reach so deep… I can feel your cock kissing my cervix… it’s too much!” Her head thrashed side to side. “This is amazing! My insides are being pushed around… I’m being thoroughly fucked!”

He shifted her legs over his shoulders, driving even deeper. The angle changed, and with every thrust, the broad head of his cock hammered directly into her G-spot. Her cries became screams, sharp and ragged. He was a piston, a machine, fucking her with a single-minded intensity that bordered on violence, and she met every plunge with a desperate lift of her hips.

“Daphne, I’m at my limit,” he growled, sweat dripping from his brow onto her chest. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna plaster your insides white.”

In a final, dominant move, he flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, and mounted her in a deep mating press. This position allowed the deepest penetration possible. He drove into her, his balls slapping against her clit with each thrust.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she shrieked, her voice breaking. “Faster! Harder! I’m cumming too, Harry! Aaaaaah!”

Her internal muscles clamped down on him in a series of violent, rippling spasms. That was all it took. With a roar, Harry buried himself to the hilt and came, his vision whiting out as pulse after pulse of seed filled the condom trapped deep within her.

For a long minute, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant drum of rain.

“Haaa… haaa… that felt really good,” Daphne sighed, her voice muffled by the sheets.

Harry pulled out slowly, collapsing beside her. He looked at the condom, swollen with his release, then at her. Her pussy was visibly puffy, her asshole still winking from the aftershocks. She was beautifully, utterly used.

To his shock, she stirred, sat up, and gently removed the condom from him. Before he could protest, she took his softening—but still substantial—cock into her mouth, sucking and licking him clean with a tender thoroughness that made him twitch anew.

“Ooooh! But I just came!” he muttered, overwhelmed.

“Yeah,” she said, releasing him with a soft pop and a grin. “And you did such good work.”

The rain continued. So did they. For hours. Against the wall, her legs hooked over his arms. On the chair, her back to his chest. On her hands and knees, him pounding into her from behind while she screamed into a pillow. Each time was a new discovery, a new peak of sweat-slicked, animalistic pleasure. By the time the furious pounding on the windows softened to a patter, then silence, they were both exhausted, bruised, and soaked in each other.

“Aaah… that felt good,” Daphne commented, stretching like a cat as they stepped out of the “Paradise Hour” and into the washed-clean evening air. The streets shimmered under the streetlights, steam rising from the warm asphalt. Harry followed, his body humming with satisfaction, his mind in a pleasant fog. An embarrassed, proud smile tugged at his lips.

“The rain gave up,” Daphne observed, glancing at the clearing sky. “Just a summer rain, huh?”

While she talked, Harry’s thoughts raced ahead. We just fucked for hours. Incredible, mind-blowing hours. Before we even knew each other’s names. But this… this means something, right? This connection, this intensity… it can’t be just a random thing. This means I got a girlfriend now. A nervous, hopeful energy buzzed in his chest. He couldn’t let her just walk away.

“Eh, Daphne… uh,” he mumbled, stepping closer as they paused at a crosswalk.

She held up a finger. “Hang on a second… my boyfriend is calling me.” She pulled her phone from her purse, her face lighting up with a smile as she answered. “Hey, you! Yeah, sorry, the rain was insane…”

Harry felt the world drop out from under him. The pleasant fog evaporated, replaced by a cold, hard vacuum in his gut. Boyfriend. The word echoed, a sucker-punch to his diaphragm. She had a boyfriend. All along.

“Sorry,” she said, the embarrassed expression on her face looking almost genuine. “I guess I forgot to tell you.” She tucked a strand of that golden hair behind her ear, a gesture that now felt practiced, performative. “He canceled our date last minute, so I just… wandered around. And then it suddenly rained.” She shrugged, but her eyes held a glint of something harder than apology—a spark of defiant mischief. “And, you know, we haven’t been connecting much lately. I was just… looking for a little excitement in life. And well, that’s when you showed up!” A soft laugh escaped her. “I felt a little bad for him, but that sure was exciting, wasn’t it? I guess this is why people have affairs.”

Harry’s thoughts, which had been floating in a warm, satiated haze, crystallized into sharp, jagged shards. Boyfriend. She has a boyfriend. To think I was about to fall in love with her… The notion seemed absurd and pathetic now, crashing down around him. The hours of intimate, raw connection—the way she’d gasped his name, the look of vulnerable bliss after she came—it all curdled into something cheap, transactional. And from the looks of it, she’s treating this as a one-night stand. A random adventure. Damn it. A hot, possessive anger surged through him, mingling with the lingering thrum of desire. I should’ve gone all out. I should’ve fucked her until she couldn’t walk, until she forgot his name, until she was screaming only mine.

As if reading the turmoil on his face, her expression softened, but the smirk never fully left her lips. “But…” she began, stepping a little closer. The scent of her, of them—sex and hotel soap—still clung to her skin. “The sex with you felt really good. It would be a shame if we didn’t get to do it again… don’t you think?” Her blue eyes locked onto his, issuing a challenge, an invitation. “So, let’s meet again.”

So are we sex friends now? The term echoed coldly in his mind. The moral quandary—what about her boyfriend?—flared for a second before being smothered by a more primal, selfish logic. Whatever. This chance will never come by again. A girl like her… in my bed again? There’s only one answer.

“Sure,” Harry said, his voice tighter than he intended. He pulled out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers.”

Her smirk widened into a victorious, knowing smile as she recited her digits. “Oh, right,” she added, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial purr as she leaned in. “Next time, you can really go all out on me. To make up for it.” Her gaze traveled down his body and back up, lingering. “You had such a serious, intense look in your eyes when we fucked. I liked it.”

Before Harry could formulate a response—whether to agree, to question, to confess the storm she’d unleashed inside him—a familiar voice cut through the humid evening air.

“Hmmm? Is that you, Harry?”

They turned in unison. A tall, amiably chubby man with a mop of light brown hair was waving from a few meters away, a friendly grin splitting his face. Beside him stood a girl who seemed to be trying to disappear into the pavement, her eyes cast down.

“Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while. What a coincidence!” the man boomed, closing the distance with a few long strides.

The recognition was instant, a jarring splash of normalcy. “Neville,” Harry said, forcing his social muscles to engage. His eyes shifted to the girl. She was stunning in a quiet, starkly contrasting way to Daphne. Long, fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face with delicate features and a shy, hesitant smile. Her figure was lush—a tight waist flaring into hips that promised an ass of legendary proportions, and the soft swell of her chest strained against her simple cotton top. “It’s been a while, Susan!”

Susan’s eyes flickered up, a blush already staining her cheeks. “Hello,” she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost carried away by the distant traffic. Harry was always struck by the disconnect—such breathtaking beauty paired with a shyness so profound it seemed to physically pain her. Neville had introduced her as his girlfriend at their last class reunion, a pairing that had raised a few eyebrows but seemed to genuinely work.

“So you guys didn’t bring an umbrella either, huh?” Neville chuckled, gesturing at the damp sheen on everyone’s clothes.

“Haha, yeah,” Harry replied, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “We forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Neville said, his jovial demeanor unwavering. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, then his attention, bright and curious, landed squarely on Daphne. “But Harry, before we talk any further, shouldn’t you introduce this cute girl to me?” He said it with a laughing tone, a nudge-wink kind of comment meant among friends.

It had an immediate effect. Susan’s shy demeanor hardened. She didn’t say a word, but her spine straightened, and she shot Neville a look from the corner of her eye—a searing, dirty side-look that spoke volumes of quiet fury.

Harry opened his mouth, his mind blanking. What was she? His hookup? His affair partner? His—

“I’m Harry’s girlfriend,” Daphne announced smoothly, slipping her arm through Harry’s with a natural, possessive ease. Her smile was bright, charming, perfectly calibrated.

Harry stiffened, shooting her a questioning glance. She squeezed his arm and rose on her toes, her whisper a warm breath against his ear. “It’s okay. Let me pretend. It’s easier.”

Meanwhile, Neville had already pivoted, his hands raised in placating surrender to Susan. “I was just kidding, babe! Of course she’s his girlfriend. Don’t give me that look!”

“Well, I didn’t find it funny at all,” Susan replied, her voice still quiet but now edged with frost. She crossed her arms, a defensive gesture that only accentuated the generous curve of her breasts.

Neville beamed, clearly finding her jealousy adorable. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her stiff form against his side. “Oh, are you feeling jealous? Don’t worry,” he cooed, planting a loud kiss on her temple. “You are my one and only true love.” Susan did not melt; she remained a beautiful, rigid statue in his embrace.

Neville turned his attention back to Harry and Daphne, seamlessly moving on. “Oh, right! We live just around the corner. You should come by! Come to my house, let’s catch up a little. Have a drink, dry off properly.”

It was an offer made in typical, overwhelming Neville fashion—more a statement than a question. Harry looked at Daphne, who gave a slight, imperceptible nod, her “girlfriend” mask firmly in place.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry said. “That sounds good.”

“Excellent!” Neville declared, already steering Susan down the sidewalk. “It’s just this way. Follow us!”

And so they fell into step behind them—Harry and Daphne, the new and fraudulent couple, following Neville and Susan, the established and currently strained one. The silence between the two pairs was filled with the echo of their footsteps on the wet concrete and a thick, unspoken tension. Harry was acutely aware of Daphne’s arm linked through his, the phantom heat of her body from hours of intimacy now a confusing brand. He watched Susan’s proud, resentful posture ahead of them, the sway of her red hair, and Neville’s oblivious, cheerful chatter.

The ordinary residential street, with its neat hedges and glowing porch lights, felt like a surreal dreamscape after the mirrored, neon-soaked fantasy of the love hotel. The night, it seemed, was far from over.

CHAPTER 1: A CASUAL ENCOUNTER

The rain hadn’t just fallen—it had shattered the afternoon, a sudden violent downpour that sent people scrambling like ants under a boot. Harry had been halfway to the subway when the sky opened up, and in his blind dash for the nearest overhang, he’d collided with a soft, warm body already sheltering there. A muffled “oof” escaped her, and he stammered an apology, stepping back to give her space while water streamed from his hair into his eyes.

It was only after a moment, as he wiped his face, that he noticed the smirks. A couple hurrying past, sharing a knowing glance. An older man waiting under a shop awning across the street, grinning openly. Harry followed their gaze to the neon sign above the entrance he’d ducked under—a soft pink heart, the words “Paradise Hour” in looping cursive, and beneath it, smaller but unmistakable: Love Hotel. Hourly Rates.

Heat flooded his cheeks. He risked a glance at the girl beside him. She was brushing droplets from her slender arms, her profile sharp and elegant against the gray sheet of rain. She must have noticed the sign too, because when she turned, her blue eyes—huge, crystalline, the color of a tropical lagoon—met his with a flicker of amusement.

“Quite the storm,” she said, her voice a smooth alto. She nodded toward the street, where rain now bounced knee-high off the pavement. “We might be here a while.”

Harry mumbled agreement. The awkwardness thickened, fed by every new arrival who glanced at them, a young man and a stunning blonde standing shoulder-to-shoulder under the glowing heart, and drew the obvious conclusion. Her cream-colored summer dress was already damp, clinging to the gentle curve of her hips and the long, toned lines of her thighs. Her hair, the shade of ripe wheat, fell just between her shoulder blades, and when she tucked a strand behind her ear, he saw the delicate shell of it, the elegant line of her neck.

After five minutes of silent, agonizing proximity, she sighed. “Look, I’m getting splashed, and you’re drowning in secondhand embarrassment. They think we’re a couple here to rent a room. Why don’t we… make it true? Just to get out of the rain.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“We go in, rent a room for an hour, wait out the storm in dry comfort. No one has to know we’re not… you know.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug, but a playful smirk touched her lips. “Unless you’re scared.”

Pride, foolish and male, straightened his spine. “I’m not scared. It’s just… practical.”

“Very practical,” she agreed, and pushed the glass door open.

The lobby was dim, lit by violet sconces, with plush carpet that swallowed sound. A discreet clerk behind frosted glass took Harry’s cash without eye contact, slid a keycard across the counter, and murmured, “Room 307. Elevator to your left.”

The room was exactly what he feared and, in a secret, shameful corner of his mind, hoped it would be. A large circular bed dominated the space, covered in black satin sheets. A mirrored ceiling reflected the whole scene back at them. A low hum of air conditioning couldn’t mask the faint, sweet scent of disinfectant and something else—something musky, primal.

“Home sweet home,” the girl said dryly, dropping her small purse on a velvet chair. She walked to the window, peering through the blinds at the relentless rain. “This might take longer than an hour.”

Harry stood frozen just inside the door, his mind a riot. Nothing was going to happen. Of course not. They were strangers. But God, she was beautiful. And this room, with its very purpose hanging in the air like incense, was making his blood thrum. He imagined those long legs wrapped around his waist, that blonde hair fanned out on the black satin, her back arching as he—

“Hey.”

Her voice pulled him from the fantasy. She had turned from the window and was studying him, head tilted. Her gaze traveled over him—his broad shoulders strained against his wet shirt, his tousled dark hair, down to his jeans and back up. That smirk returned, fuller now, more knowing.

“Since we’re already here,” she said, taking a slow step toward him, “how about I repay your generosity for paying for this room for both of us?”

Before he could process the words, she closed the distance. Her hands came up to frame his face, cool and sure, and she kissed him.

It wasn’t tentative. It was a claiming. Her lips were soft but insistent, parting his with practiced ease, and her tongue swept into his mouth. The shock melted under a wave of pure, electric heat. Harry groaned into the kiss, his hands moving of their own volition to grip her waist, pulling her flush against him. He could feel every curve through the thin fabric of her dress, the swell of her breasts against his chest.

The kiss deepened, turned frantic. Hands began to roam, to tug, to pull. His shirt was yanked over his head and discarded. Her dress buttons proved a fumble, until she impatiently shimmied the whole thing down, letting it pool at her feet. She stood before him in only matching lace underwear—cream, like her skin—and Harry’s breath caught. Her breasts were perfect B-cups, high and round with nipples already peaked hard and pink against the lace. His mouth watered.

“Like what you see?” she breathed, her own eyes drinking him in. She traced the defined lines of his six-pack, her fingers skating lower, over the trail of hair leading down. When her palm cupped him through his jeans, she gasped softly. “Wow. You are already really hard.”

Harry’s face flamed. “O-Of course,” he stammered, trying for nonchalance and failing utterly. “Anyone would get hard after a kiss like that.”

She giggled, a low, husky sound, and pressed her hand more firmly. She began to knead him through the denim, her eyes widening with delight. “And what an amazing tool. I’m going to enjoy myself very much tonight.” She unbuckled his belt, popped the button, and dragged his jeans and boxers down in one motion. His cock sprang free, fully erect, thick and long and curving slightly upward. She stared, genuine awe on her face. “Now that I think about it,” she whispered, “I’ve never seen someone as big as you are.”

Prise, hot and fierce, burst in Harry’s chest. He swelled even further under her gaze.

Then she sank to her knees.

“Let me kiss your cock too,” she said, her voice gone smoky.

“Whoa! What?” Harry jolted, hands half-reaching to stop her. “You’re not… grossed out by it?”

His protest died as her lips, lush and warm, closed over the broad head. Her tongue darted out, licking a firm stripe along the sensitive underside of his crown. A bolt of pleasure shot straight to his spine. “Ooooh!” The moan was ripped from him. “You’re licking… the underside of my tip… aah!”

She hummed in approval, the vibration traveling through his entire length. She took him deeper, her mouth a wet, hot heaven, her tongue working eagerly as if he were the most delicious treat she’d ever tasted. Her hands cradled his balls, rolling them gently, then stroked the thick base of his shaft. She was an expert, moving with a confident rhythm that had his knees trembling.

With a sudden, surprising strength, she pushed him backward. He landed on the edge of the circular bed, and she climbed over him, straddling his hips. Still holding his gaze, she reached back, unhooked her bra, and let it fall. Her breasts swayed free, creamy and perfect. He wanted to devour them, to suck those pink nipples until she screamed.

But she wasn’t done. Still kneeling over him, she turned, presenting him with the breathtaking view of her back, the elegant dip of her spine, and the glorious, plump rounds of her ass, barely contained by her tiny lace panties. She hooked her thumbs in the sides and began to peel them down.

They were soaked. The pale lace was dark with her arousal, clinging to her folds as she pulled, revealing the glistening pink slit of her pussy. Juices had already slicked her inner thighs. The scent of her—musky, sweet, intensely female—hit him, and he groaned.

She looked over her shoulder, her blue eyes heavy-lidded. “If you think it looks good,” she purred, her voice a sinful promise, “wait until you taste and smell my pussy when I’m facesitting you.”

The image—her weight on his face, that wet heat smothering him—made his cock jerk violently. A bead of precum welled and spilled from his slit.

She moved swiftly, turning her body around and climbing up his torso. True to her word, she brought her plump ass and dripping pussy to his face, lowering herself until her folds hovered just above his mouth. Her arousal dripped onto his chin, his lips. He could see everything—the neat strip of blonde hair on her mound, the swollen, glistening lips of her pussy, the darker, puckered rose of her asshole just behind. It was obscene. It was magnificent.

He grabbed her thighs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and pulled her down onto his waiting mouth.

This is my first time doing a 69, he thought deliriously, as her own head descended and she took his cock back into her throat. I’m looking at her pussy while she sucks me off. What a turn on!

He licked her like a starving man. A long, flat stroke from her perineum up through her soaked slit. She gasped around his cock, her body shuddering. He zeroed in on her clitoris, a hard little pearl peeking from its hood, and sucked it gently, then flicked it with the tip of his tongue.

“Mmmph!” The vibration around his shaft was incredible. She was sucking him with fierce dedication, bobbing her head, using her hands to stroke what she couldn’t fit into her mouth. She was milking him, the pressure building in his balls with terrifying speed. He was losing himself, about to be undone by her mouth alone.

Determined to reciprocate, he plunged two fingers inside her. She was so tight, so hot and silken. He crooked them, searching, scissoring them gently as he continued to lap at her clit. Her moans grew higher, more desperate. He felt a different texture inside—a rougher, ridged patch on her upper wall. He pressed the pads of his fingers against it.

“Aaaahn!” Her cry was muffled by his cock, but her entire body convulsed. A fresh gush of fluid coated his fingers and chin.

“It feels different in here…” Harry panted, withdrawing his fingers only to massage that spot again with a circling motion. “This must be your weak spot.”

“Nooooo, not there!” she wailed, but it was a plea for more, not less. Her hips ground against his face, riding his fingers and tongue. He kept the pressure steady, rubbing her G-spot in time with the suction of his mouth on her clit.

She shattered. A raw, guttural scream tore from her as her body bowed, then she collapsed forward, her pussy spasming wildly against his mouth. A hot jet of fluid—not just juices, but a true, pulsing squirt—hit his tongue and chin. The taste was salty, musky, profoundly erotic.

She rolled off him, boneless, panting on the black satin beside him. A deep blush painted her chest and cheeks. Her eyes were glazed, tears of pleasure clinging to her lashes. She looked utterly wrecked.

“No one,” she breathed, her voice hoarse, “has ever made me cum like that.” She turned her head to look at him, a soft, dazed smile on her lips. “You’ve earned the right to call me by my name. I’m Daphne.”

Daphne. The name suited her—mythical, beautiful, a little dangerous.

Emboldened, Harry moved over her. He spread her legs wide, gazing at the beautiful mess he’d made of her. Her pussy lips were flushed dark pink, swollen, still glistening and twitching. She lay with her arms above her head, sweat and his saliva drying on her skin, a portrait of debauched bliss.

He fumbled for his wallet, retrieved a condom, and sheathed himself with hands that shook. He was so hard it was almost painful.

“Oooh,” he groaned, positioning himself at her entrance. “Here I go, Daphne.”

He pushed in. The resistance was exquisite. She was unbelievably tight, her inner walls clamping around him like a velvet fist. He was not just long, but thick, and he felt every ridge and fold of her accommodate him, stretch for him. As the head of his cock passed over that rough patch inside her, she cried out.

“Oh God! It’s so big!” Her back arched off the bed. “Oooh! Aaaah!”

He sank deeper, inch by devastating inch, until he was fully sheathed, his hips pressed against her. She felt impossibly full, stretched to her limit. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in a silent ‘O’ of shock.

“Oh God,” she whimpered, “there’s more?”

He began to move. Slow, deep pulls that dragged his entire length almost out, then slammed back home. The sound of flesh meeting flesh, wet and rhythmic, filled the room. Her ability to form words dissolved into a continuous stream of moans, grunts, and choked pleas. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging in.

“Oh crap! This pussy… Daphne, your insides are so tight!” Harry gritted out, the sensation overwhelming. “I can feel your walls squeezing me!”

“Oh, Harry, you feel… so good,” she managed between gasps. “I’ve never… had someone reach so deep… I can feel your cock kissing my cervix… it’s too much!” Her head thrashed side to side. “This is amazing! My insides are being pushed around… I’m being thoroughly fucked!”

He shifted her legs over his shoulders, driving even deeper. The angle changed, and with every thrust, the broad head of his cock hammered directly into her G-spot. Her cries became screams, sharp and ragged. He was a piston, a machine, fucking her with a single-minded intensity that bordered on violence, and she met every plunge with a desperate lift of her hips.

“Daphne, I’m at my limit,” he growled, sweat dripping from his brow onto her chest. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna plaster your insides white.”

In a final, dominant move, he flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, and mounted her in a deep mating press. This position allowed the deepest penetration possible. He drove into her, his balls slapping against her clit with each thrust.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she shrieked, her voice breaking. “Faster! Harder! I’m cumming too, Harry! Aaaaaah!”

Her internal muscles clamped down on him in a series of violent, rippling spasms. That was all it took. With a roar, Harry buried himself to the hilt and came, his vision whiting out as pulse after pulse of seed filled the condom trapped deep within her.

For a long minute, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant drum of rain.

“Haaa… haaa… that felt really good,” Daphne sighed, her voice muffled by the sheets.

Harry pulled out slowly, collapsing beside her. He looked at the condom, swollen with his release, then at her. Her pussy was visibly puffy, her asshole still winking from the aftershocks. She was beautifully, utterly used.

To his shock, she stirred, sat up, and gently removed the condom from him. Before he could protest, she took his softening—but still substantial—cock into her mouth, sucking and licking him clean with a tender thoroughness that made him twitch anew.

“Ooooh! But I just came!” he muttered, overwhelmed.

“Yeah,” she said, releasing him with a soft pop and a grin. “And you did such good work.”

The rain continued. So did they. For hours. Against the wall, her legs hooked over his arms. On the chair, her back to his chest. On her hands and knees, him pounding into her from behind while she screamed into a pillow. Each time was a new discovery, a new peak of sweat-slicked, animalistic pleasure. By the time the furious pounding on the windows softened to a patter, then silence, they were both exhausted, bruised, and soaked in each other.

“Aaah… that felt good,” Daphne commented, stretching like a cat as they stepped out of the “Paradise Hour” and into the washed-clean evening air. The streets shimmered under the streetlights, steam rising from the warm asphalt. Harry followed, his body humming with satisfaction, his mind in a pleasant fog. An embarrassed, proud smile tugged at his lips.

“The rain gave up,” Daphne observed, glancing at the clearing sky. “Just a summer rain, huh?”

While she talked, Harry’s thoughts raced ahead. We just fucked for hours. Incredible, mind-blowing hours. Before we even knew each other’s names. But this… this means something, right? This connection, this intensity… it can’t be just a random thing. This means I got a girlfriend now. A nervous, hopeful energy buzzed in his chest. He couldn’t let her just walk away.

“Eh, Daphne… uh,” he mumbled, stepping closer as they paused at a crosswalk.

She held up a finger. “Hang on a second… my boyfriend is calling me.” She pulled her phone from her purse, her face lighting up with a smile as she answered. “Hey, you! Yeah, sorry, the rain was insane…”

Harry felt the world drop out from under him. The pleasant fog evaporated, replaced by a cold, hard vacuum in his gut. Boyfriend. The word echoed, a sucker-punch to his diaphragm. She had a boyfriend. All along.

“Sorry,” she said, the embarrassed expression on her face looking almost genuine. “I guess I forgot to tell you.” She tucked a strand of that golden hair behind her ear, a gesture that now felt practiced, performative. “He canceled our date last minute, so I just… wandered around. And then it suddenly rained.” She shrugged, but her eyes held a glint of something harder than apology—a spark of defiant mischief. “And, you know, we haven’t been connecting much lately. I was just… looking for a little excitement in life. And well, that’s when you showed up!” A soft laugh escaped her. “I felt a little bad for him, but that sure was exciting, wasn’t it? I guess this is why people have affairs.”

Harry’s thoughts, which had been floating in a warm, satiated haze, crystallized into sharp, jagged shards. Boyfriend. She has a boyfriend. To think I was about to fall in love with her… The notion seemed absurd and pathetic now, crashing down around him. The hours of intimate, raw connection—the way she’d gasped his name, the look of vulnerable bliss after she came—it all curdled into something cheap, transactional. And from the looks of it, she’s treating this as a one-night stand. A random adventure. Damn it. A hot, possessive anger surged through him, mingling with the lingering thrum of desire. I should’ve gone all out. I should’ve fucked her until she couldn’t walk, until she forgot his name, until she was screaming only mine.

As if reading the turmoil on his face, her expression softened, but the smirk never fully left her lips. “But…” she began, stepping a little closer. The scent of her, of them—sex and hotel soap—still clung to her skin. “The sex with you felt really good. It would be a shame if we didn’t get to do it again… don’t you think?” Her blue eyes locked onto his, issuing a challenge, an invitation. “So, let’s meet again.”

So are we sex friends now? The term echoed coldly in his mind. The moral quandary—what about her boyfriend?—flared for a second before being smothered by a more primal, selfish logic. Whatever. This chance will never come by again. A girl like her… in my bed again? There’s only one answer.

“Sure,” Harry said, his voice tighter than he intended. He pulled out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers.”

Her smirk widened into a victorious, knowing smile as she recited her digits. “Oh, right,” she added, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial purr as she leaned in. “Next time, you can really go all out on me. To make up for it.” Her gaze traveled down his body and back up, lingering. “You had such a serious, intense look in your eyes when we fucked. I liked it.”

Before Harry could formulate a response—whether to agree, to question, to confess the storm she’d unleashed inside him—a familiar voice cut through the humid evening air.

“Hmmm? Is that you, Harry?”

They turned in unison. A tall, amiably chubby man with a mop of light brown hair was waving from a few meters away, a friendly grin splitting his face. Beside him stood a girl who seemed to be trying to disappear into the pavement, her eyes cast down.

“Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while. What a coincidence!” the man boomed, closing the distance with a few long strides.

The recognition was instant, a jarring splash of normalcy. “Neville,” Harry said, forcing his social muscles to engage. His eyes shifted to the girl. She was stunning in a quiet, starkly contrasting way to Daphne. Long, fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face with delicate features and a shy, hesitant smile. Her figure was lush—a tight waist flaring into hips that promised an ass of legendary proportions, and the soft swell of her chest strained against her simple cotton top. “It’s been a while, Susan!”

Susan’s eyes flickered up, a blush already staining her cheeks. “Hello,” she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost carried away by the distant traffic. Harry was always struck by the disconnect—such breathtaking beauty paired with a shyness so profound it seemed to physically pain her. Neville had introduced her as his girlfriend at their last class reunion, a pairing that had raised a few eyebrows but seemed to genuinely work.

“So you guys didn’t bring an umbrella either, huh?” Neville chuckled, gesturing at the damp sheen on everyone’s clothes.

“Haha, yeah,” Harry replied, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “We forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Neville said, his jovial demeanor unwavering. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, then his attention, bright and curious, landed squarely on Daphne. “But Harry, before we talk any further, shouldn’t you introduce this cute girl to me?” He said it with a laughing tone, a nudge-wink kind of comment meant among friends.

It had an immediate effect. Susan’s shy demeanor hardened. She didn’t say a word, but her spine straightened, and she shot Neville a look from the corner of her eye—a searing, dirty side-look that spoke volumes of quiet fury.

Harry opened his mouth, his mind blanking. What was she? His hookup? His affair partner? His—

“I’m Harry’s girlfriend,” Daphne announced smoothly, slipping her arm through Harry’s with a natural, possessive ease. Her smile was bright, charming, perfectly calibrated.

Harry stiffened, shooting her a questioning glance. She squeezed his arm and rose on her toes, her whisper a warm breath against his ear. “It’s okay. Let me pretend. It’s easier.”

Meanwhile, Neville had already pivoted, his hands raised in placating surrender to Susan. “I was just kidding, babe! Of course she’s his girlfriend. Don’t give me that look!”

“Well, I didn’t find it funny at all,” Susan replied, her voice still quiet but now edged with frost. She crossed her arms, a defensive gesture that only accentuated the generous curve of her breasts.

Neville beamed, clearly finding her jealousy adorable. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her stiff form against his side. “Oh, are you feeling jealous? Don’t worry,” he cooed, planting a loud kiss on her temple. “You are my one and only true love.” Susan did not melt; she remained a beautiful, rigid statue in his embrace.

Neville turned his attention back to Harry and Daphne, seamlessly moving on. “Oh, right! We live just around the corner. You should come by! Come to my house, let’s catch up a little. Have a drink, dry off properly.”

It was an offer made in typical, overwhelming Neville fashion—more a statement than a question. Harry looked at Daphne, who gave a slight, imperceptible nod, her “girlfriend” mask firmly in place.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry said. “That sounds good.”

“Excellent!” Neville declared, already steering Susan down the sidewalk. “It’s just this way. Follow us!”

And so they fell into step behind them—Harry and Daphne, the new and fraudulent couple, following Neville and Susan, the established and currently strained one. The silence between the two pairs was filled with the echo of their footsteps on the wet concrete and a thick, unspoken tension. Harry was acutely aware of Daphne’s arm linked through his, the phantom heat of her body from hours of intimacy now a confusing brand. He watched Susan’s proud, resentful posture ahead of them, the sway of her red hair, and Neville’s oblivious, cheerful chatter.

The ordinary residential street, with its neat hedges and glowing porch lights, felt like a surreal dreamscape after the mirrored, neon-soaked fantasy of the love hotel. The night, it seemed, was far from over.