A teen’s disastrous first time leads to a night of wild, unexpected sex with his girlfriend’s older sister and her friend.
Chapter 1: A Promise of Moonlight
The air in Maria’s bedroom was thick with the scent of teenage anticipation and the faint, sweet perfume of vanilla that she always wore. It was a scent Asher had come to associate with her, a comforting aroma that usually made his heart beat a little faster with a simple, uncomplicated affection. Tonight, however, it was mingled with something else—the electric, almost palpable hum of a line about to be crossed. The only light came from a single string of fairy lights draped over her headboard, casting a warm, golden glow that made the room feel like a secret world, separate from the rest of the suburban house and the quiet street outside.
Asher sat on the edge of Maria’s bed, his hands clammy, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. He was a junior, just like Maria, and in the grand, sprawling social ecosystem of Northwood High, they were that couple. The one that had been dating for what felt like an eternity in high school terms—seven months. They’d passed all the milestones: the first awkward date to the movies, the formal introduction to parents, the homecoming dance where they’d kissed under the glittering strobe lights. This was the final frontier. The one they’d whispered about, joked about, and planned for with a mixture of genuine excitement and sheer terror.
Her parents were gone. A rare, beautiful confluence of a weekend conference for her dad and a spa retreat for her mom had left the house to them. The freedom was intoxicating, a heady cocktail of trust and opportunity.
Maria emerged from the adjoining bathroom, a cloud of steam preceding her. She’d taken a shower, a ritual they’d both agreed upon with a seriousness usually reserved for final exams. She was wearing a simple, white cotton robe, her dark hair still damp and curling at the ends. She looked, to Asher, like an angel. A nervous, fidgeting angel, but an angel nonetheless.
“Hey,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She didn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on a loose thread on the hem of her robe.
“Hey,” Asher managed, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. He stood up, his six-foot-one frame feeling clumsy and oversized in the small, feminine room. He reached for her, his hands gently cupping her elbows. “You okay?”
She nodded, finally looking up at him. Her eyes, a deep, rich brown, were wide with a mixture of fear and desire. “Yeah. Just… nervous. You?”
“Terrified,” he admitted with a lopsided grin that he hoped was more charming than terrified. “But in a good way, you know?”
She smiled back, a genuine, if tremulous, smile. “Yeah. I know.”
He leaned down and kissed her. It was a familiar kiss, one they had shared a hundred times, but tonight it was different. It was heavier, laden with the weight of intention. His lips moved against hers, soft and searching, and he felt her relax a little, her body melting into his. His hands slid up her arms, over the soft terrycloth of the robe, to her shoulders, and then to the tie at her waist.
He fumbled with it for a second, his fingers suddenly feeling like thick, useless sausages. Maria giggled, a light, airy sound that broke the tension. She gently pushed his hands away and untied it herself. The robe fell open, and Asher’s breath hitched in his throat.
He’d seen her in a bikini before, of course. They’d gone to the lake with friends over the summer. But this was different. This was not for public consumption. This was just for him. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, glowing in the warm light. Her breasts were small and perfectly shaped, topped with dark, tight nipples that seemed to beckon him. His gaze traveled down over the soft curve of her stomach to the neat triangle of dark hair between her legs. She was perfect. She was everything he had imagined and more.
Maria seemed to sense his awe, and a blush crept up her neck and bloomed across her cheeks. She let the robe slide from her shoulders and pool on the floor around her feet, leaving her completely naked. She stood before him, vulnerable and beautiful, her hands clasped loosely in front of her.
“Your turn,” she whispered.
Asher’s hands went to the hem of his t-shirt. He pulled it over his head, tossing it onto a nearby chair. He was lean and athletic from years of playing soccer, with a defined chest and a flat stomach that Maria had run her hands over more than once, but never like this. Next came his jeans and boxers. He kicked them aside, and now it was his turn to feel exposed.
Maria’s eyes, which had been darting around the room, now fixed on him. And they went very, very wide. Her mouth fell open slightly, and a small, involuntary gasp escaped her lips.
Asher had always known he was… well-endowed. It wasn’t something he boasted about, but it was a fact of life he’d become accustomed to in locker rooms and through his own solitary explorations. He was larger than average, significantly so. But seeing the look on Maria’s face—a mixture of shock, awe, and a dawning, primal fear—made him feel like a freak.
“Oh,” she breathed, the sound barely audible. “Asher… it’s…”
He felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. “Is it okay?” he asked, his voice tight.
She shook her head, not in negation, but as if to clear it. “It’s just… bigger than anything I could have imagined.” She took a hesitant step closer, her eyes still locked on his semi-erect cock. It was already thickening, swelling with the blood of his arousal, and it wasn’t even fully hard yet. “I… I don’t know if…”
“Hey,” he said softly, taking her hand. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just… you know, make out. Or whatever.”
“No,” she said, her voice firming with resolve. She looked up into his eyes, her fear warring with her determination. “No, I want to. I really want to. It’s just… a lot.”
She sank to her knees on the plush rug in front of him, her movements slow and deliberate. She reached out a tentative hand and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Her hand, which had always seemed so small in his, looked positively tiny gripping him. Her fingers didn’t even meet. He was fully hard now, a solid ten inches of thick, veiny flesh, the head flared and dark with arousal.
She leaned forward and stuck out her tongue, giving the tip a tentative lick. A shudder ran through Asher’s body. She tried to take him into her mouth, her lips stretching wide around the head. She managed to get just the crown past her teeth, but that was it. She pulled back, a thin line of saliva connecting her lip to his tip.
“I can’t,” she said, a note of genuine panic in her voice. “I can’t even fit it in my mouth.”
“It’s okay,” Asher said, his voice strained. He was trying to be reassuring, but his body was screaming with need. “You don’t have to.”
She stood up, her face a mask of conflicted emotions. “Let’s just… lie down.”
They moved to the bed, the sheets cool against their skin. They kissed again, a frantic, desperate kiss this time. Asher’s hands roamed her body, learning the curves and hollows of her, his fingers tracing the line of her spine, cupping the soft weight of her tits, teasing her nipples until they were hard pebbles against his palms. Maria was responding, her own hands exploring his chest and back, her breathing growing ragged.
He reached over to the nightstand and fumbled in the drawer for the condom he’d placed there earlier, his hands trembling with anticipation. He ripped open the foil packet with his teeth and rolled the latex sheath over his throbbing cock. It was a tight fit, the material straining to contain him.
He positioned himself between her legs, which were spread wide, a silent invitation. He could see the glistening wetness of her pussy, the lips parted and swollen with arousal. He rubbed the head of his cock against her slit, coating it in her slick juices. She moaned, arching her hips up to meet him.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut. “Yes.”
He took a deep breath and began to push. He was gentle, so gentle, applying a slow, steady pressure. He could feel the resistance of her tight entrance, the muscle fighting against his intrusion. He pushed a little harder.
Nothing. It was like trying to push a train through a keyhole.
“Relax, Maria,” he whispered. “Try to relax for me.”
“I’m trying,” she whimpered, her body tense as a bowstring.
He tried again, this time with a little more force. He felt something give, a tiny, incremental movement. The head of his dick, the widest part, was now just barely inside her.
And then she screamed.
It wasn’t a scream of pleasure. It was a raw, piercing shriek of pure, unadulterated agony. Her eyes flew open, wide with shock and pain, and tears instantly streamed down her face.
“Stop! Stop! Get it out!” she cried, thrashing beneath him.
Panic seized Asher. He pulled out instantly, scrambling off of her as if he’d been burned. Maria curled into a fetal position, her body wracked with violent, gut-wrenching sobs. She was crying so hard she couldn’t catch her breath, her entire body shaking.
“Maria? Oh my god, Maria, are you okay? I’m so sorry,” he babbled, his mind a complete blank. He didn’t know what to do. He’d hurt her. He’d hurt the person he cared about more than anyone in the world.
She didn’t answer. She just kept crying. Then, with a sudden, desperate surge of energy, she threw herself off the bed, grabbed her white robe from the floor, and ran from the room, still sobbing hysterically.
Asher stood there for a second, frozen in a state of horrified shock. The sound of her footsteps pounding down the hallway and then thundering down the stairs snapped him out of it. He scrambled to pull on his jeans, not even bothering with his boxers, and yanked his t-shirt over his head. He ran out of the room, his heart pounding in his chest, a cold dread washing over him.
He found her in the living room, collapsed on the plush beige sofa. But she wasn’t alone. Standing over her, her arms crossed and her face a thundercloud of fury, was her older sister, Maribel.
Chapter 2: A Painful Awakening
Maribel was two years older than Maria, a freshman in college, and she carried herself with the world-weary confidence of someone who had seen it all and was unimpressed. She was, in every sense of the word, a knockout. Where Maria was cute and petite, Maribel was statuesque and fiery. She had the same rich, dark hair, but she wore it long and straight, a silken curtain that fell halfway down her back. Her eyes were the same deep brown, but they were sharp and intelligent, missing the softness of her younger sister’s. Tonight, they were blazing with a protective, murderous rage.
She was wearing a pair of tight black leggings and a simple gray tank top that did little to hide the generous curves of her body. Her full, high tits strained against the thin fabric, and her flat stomach led down to hips that flared out in a way that was both powerful and alluring. She was a woman, not a girl, and the difference had never been more apparent.
“What the fuck did you do to my sister?” she snarled, her voice low and dangerous. She didn’t even look at Asher, her entire focus on the sobbing girl on the couch.
“Maribel, it’s not what you think,” Asher stammered, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s a misunderstanding.”
Maria was trying to speak, but her words were lost in her hiccups and sobs. “He… he… it hurt…”
Maribel’s gaze finally snapped to Asher, and it was like being hit with a physical force. “Don’t you dare ‘misunderstanding’ me. I heard her scream from upstairs. What did you do to her?” She took a step towards him, her hands clenched into fists. “I swear to god, Asher, if you hurt her, I will call the cops. I don’t care who your parents are.”
“No! Please, don’t,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “We were just… we were going to have sex. But when I… when I pushed into her, she started crying and screaming. I pulled out! I swear, I pulled out the second she told me to.”
Maribel’s expression didn’t soften, but the murderous intent in her eyes seemed to recede slightly, replaced by a deep, suspicious confusion. She knelt down beside her sister, her voice instantly changing from a furious growl to a gentle, soothing murmur. “Maria. Hey, look at me. It’s okay. I’m here. What’s going on? Tell me what happened.”
Maria took a shuddering breath, trying to compose herself. “We… we were gonna do it,” she whispered, her face buried in a throw pillow. “He put on a condom and… and he tried to put it in. But it hurt so much, Maribel. It hurt so much I couldn’t stand it. It felt like I was being ripped apart.”
Maribel’s eyes went wide. She looked from her sister’s tear-streaked face back to Asher, who was standing awkwardly by the archway leading to the hall, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. She shook her head, a slow, deliberate movement, as if trying to process an impossible piece of information.
“Okay,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “Okay, Maria. It’s alright. Go upstairs, take a hot shower, and try to get some sleep. I’m going to take Asher home, and then I’m going to Sarah’s house. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Maria nodded, her body still trembling. She slowly pushed herself up from the couch, keeping her eyes down, refusing to look at Asher. She shuffled towards the stairs, a broken, defeated figure.
Asher watched her go, a profound sense of shame and failure washing over him. He had ruined everything. He had hurt her, terrified her, and destroyed what was supposed to be a beautiful, special night.
He turned to Maribel, ready to face the music. “I’m so sorry,” he said again, his voice barely a whisper. “I never meant to hurt her.”
Maribel just looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed, a long, weary sound. “Just grab your stuff and wait outside. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Asher didn’t need to be told twice. He practically fled to the front door, grabbing his sneakers and phone from the floor by the couch. He stepped out into the cool night air, the sudden quiet of the suburban street a stark contrast to the emotional maelstrom he had just left. He sat on the front steps, pulling on his shoes, his head in his hands. He felt like the world’s biggest asshole.
A few minutes later, the front door opened and closed. Maribel stood there, her car keys jingling in her hand. She didn’t say a word, just jerked her head towards the driveway. He followed her to her car, a beat-up but sporty-looking coupe, and slid into the passenger seat. The interior was clean but smelled like her—a mix of coconut lotion and something spicier, like cinnamon.
She started the car, the engine rumbling to life. She pulled out of the driveway and started driving, but not in the direction of his house.
“Uh, my house is the other way,” Asher said, his confusion cutting through his misery.
“I know,” she said, her eyes fixed on the road. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
They drove in silence for a few more blocks, the streetlights painting strobing patterns across her face. Asher’s mind was racing. Was she taking him somewhere to dump him? To meet some of her friends to beat him up? The possibilities were all terrifying.
Finally, she spoke. “So, let me see it.”
Asher blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” she said, glancing at him for a split second. “Let me see what made my sister scream like that. Let me see what all the fuss is about.”
He stared at her, completely bewildered. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Pull it out.”
He hesitated. This was beyond weird. This was insane. But there was something in her voice, a command that he couldn’t seem to defy. Maybe it was the lingering guilt, or maybe it was just the sheer absurdity of the situation. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he unzipped his jeans and, with a deep sense of humiliation, pulled his flaccid cock out of his pants.
Maribel took her eyes off the road for a full three seconds, which felt like an eternity. Her gaze dropped to his lap, and her eyes went wide. She let out a long, low whistle.
“Whoa,” she breathed, a genuine note of astonishment in her voice. “Just… whoa.”
She looked back at the road, a slow, thoughtful smile spreading across her face. The anger was gone. The suspicion was gone. In its place was a look of… calculation? Intrigue? Asher couldn’t quite place it.
“Okay,” she said, nodding to herself. “Okay. I get it now.” She looked at him again, and this time her eyes were different. They were appraising. “Do you have to be home tonight?”
The question was so out of left field it took him a moment to process it. “No,” he said slowly. “I told my parents I was spending the night at a friend’s house.”
A triumphant grin lit up her face. “Good,” she said. “Very good.”
She made a sharp right turn, heading towards a part of town Asher didn’t recognize as well, an area with a higher concentration of apartment complexes and duplexes. He was completely lost, both literally and figuratively.
“Where are we going?” he asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach.
“To my friend’s apartment,” she said cheerfully, as if they were just going out for a late-night ice cream run. “You’re not going home tonight, Asher. You’re not going to waste a night like this.”
He had no idea what she meant, but he had a sinking, thrilling, terrifying feeling that his night was far from over.
Chapter 3: A Detour in the Dark
The apartment complex was a sprawling, two-story affair with faded stucco walls and balconies cluttered with bicycles and potted plants. Maribel parked her coupe in a spot near the stairs, killing the engine. The sudden silence was deafening.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” she said, turning in her seat to face him. Her eyes glinted in the dim light from the streetlamp. “You’re going to stay in the car. I’m going to go up to apartment 2B. I’m going to knock on the door. You’re going to watch me. When I give you the signal—when I wave you in—you get out of this car and you come inside. Don’t come up before. Don’t make a sound. Just wait for the signal. Got it?”
Asher just stared at her, his mouth agape. “I… what? Why? Who’s up there?”
“Just do it, Asher,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. There was an excitement in her that was infectious, a dangerous, magnetic energy. “Trust me. You wanted to lose your virginity tonight, right?”
He nodded dumbly.
“Good,” she said. “Then trust me.”
She got out of the car, her movements fluid and confident. Asher watched her walk towards the stairs, her tight leggings accentuating the hypnotic sway of her hips. She disappeared up the staircase, and he was left alone in the car with his thoughts, which were a chaotic jumble of guilt, confusion, and a burgeoning, undeniable arousal.
He watched the second-floor landing, his heart thumping. He saw her walk down the open-air corridor and stop in front of a door with a brass number 2B on it. She knocked.
The door opened, and a sliver of light spilled out onto the walkway. Asher couldn’t see who opened it, just a silhouette. Maribel went inside, and the door closed behind her.
Minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. Asher was starting to think it was all a elaborate prank. Maybe she was up there telling her friend what a pervert he was, and they were going to call the cops after all. He was just about to start the car and get the hell out of there when the door to 2B opened again.
A guy stumbled out, looking angry and disheveled. He muttered something to the closed door, kicked it half-heartedly, and then stormed off down the stairs in the opposite direction, disappearing into the night.
Asher’s curiosity was now burning white-hot. What was going on in there?
A few more minutes passed. Then, the door opened a third time. Maribel stood there, silhouetted in the doorway. She looked down towards the car, and even from a distance, Asher could see the grin on her face. She raised a hand and gave him a clear, deliberate wave.
The signal.
His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the door handle. He got out of the car, his legs feeling like they were made of jelly. He walked up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the quiet night. He reached the door to 2B, which was standing ajar. He could hear music playing inside, a low, thumping bass line.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The apartment was small but clean, decorated in a bohemian-chic style with colorful tapestries on the walls and a mishmash of thrift-store furniture. The air smelled like incense and something else, something floral and feminine.
Maribel was standing by a small kitchenette, sipping from a glass of water. And sitting on the plush, velvety couch was another girl.
She was a blonde. A stunning, sun-kissed blonde with hair that fell in waves around her shoulders and a face that could have been on a magazine cover. She had big, blue eyes, full, pouty lips, and a body that was poured into a tiny, tight-fitting red dress. Her tits were large and round, straining against the fabric, and her long, toned legs were crossed elegantly at the knee. She was looking at Asher with an open, curious expression that was both inviting and a little intimidating.
“Asher,” Maribel said, her voice a purr. “This is my friend, Cynthia. Cynthia, this is Asher.”
“Hi, Asher,” Cynthia said, her voice a low, husky contralto. She didn’t get up, just watched him with an unnerving intensity.
“Hi,” Asher managed to squeak out. He felt like a deer in headlights.
“Cynthia and I were just having a little… discussion,” Maribel continued, walking over to the couch and perching on the armrest next to her friend. She ran a hand through Cynthia’s blonde hair, a gesture that was surprisingly intimate. “And we decided that it would be a real, real shame for a… situation… like yours to go to waste.”
Cynthia laughed, a throaty, musical sound. “Maribel told me what happened. She said you were… gifted.” Her eyes dropped pointedly to Asher’s crotch. “She wasn’t kidding.”
Asher’s face was on fire. He felt like he was in some kind of dream, a bizarre, hyper-sexual fever dream. He looked from Maribel’s smirking face to Cynthia’s appraising gaze.
“I… I don’t understand,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“It’s simple, Asher,” Maribel said, sliding off the armrest and onto the couch, right next to Cynthia. She put an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “You were supposed to lose your virginity tonight. My sister… well, she wasn’t ready for the main event. But that doesn’t mean you have to go home with blue balls. Cynthia and I… we’re a little more experienced. We’re willing to help you out.”
Cynthia leaned her head against Maribel’s shoulder, her blue eyes never leaving Asher’s. “We’re very willing,” she purred.
The implication hit Asher like a physical blow. They were offering themselves. To him. Both of them. His cock, which had been in a state of terrified flaccidity, began to stir, a slow, deep throb of blood and need.
“Are you… are you serious?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Dead serious,” Maribel said, her eyes glinting. She stood up and walked over to him, stopping just inches away. She was so close he could feel the heat radiating from her body, could smell the coconut and cinnamon of her scent. She reached up and traced a line down his chest with her finger. “So, what do you say, Asher? You still want to lose your virginity tonight?”
He looked into her dark, dangerous eyes. He looked over at Cynthia, who was watching them with a hungry, predatory smile. He thought of Maria, crying upstairs. A pang of guilt shot through him, but it was quickly drowned out by a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated lust. This was wrong. This was crazy. This was the single most insane thing that had ever happened to him.
And there was no way in hell he was going to say no.
He nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
Maribel’s grin widened. “Good boy.” She took his hand. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
Chapter 4: The Maribel Method
The bedroom was just as eclectic as the living room, with a large, unmade bed covered in a purple velvet duvet and more tapestries hanging on the walls. Maribel led him to the edge of the bed and then turned to face him. Cynthia followed them in, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a look of eager anticipation on her face.
“First things first,” Maribel said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. She hooked her fingers into the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside. Her hands roamed his chest and stomach, her touch sending electric jolts through him. “Mmm, not bad at all, soccer boy.”
She then knelt down in front of him, just as Maria had done an hour ago, but the similarity ended there. Where Maria had been hesitant and fearful, Maribel was confident and in control. She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down, along with his boxers, freeing his now fully erect cock.
It stood out from his body, thick and hard, a testament to his overwhelming arousal. Maribel wrapped her hand around it, her fingers still not meeting, but her grip was firm and sure.
“Damn,” she breathed, looking up at him from under her dark lashes. “She really wasn’t kidding.” She leaned forward and, without a moment’s hesitation, took the head of his dick into her mouth.
Asher gasped, his hands flying to her shoulders to steady himself. Her mouth was hot and wet, and she knew exactly what she was doing. She swirled her tongue around the sensitive ridge, her hand stroking his shaft in a slow, firm rhythm. She took him deeper, her lips stretching, her throat relaxing. She managed to take about half of him before she had to pull back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his tip.
“He tastes good, Cyn,” she said, looking over at her friend.
“I’m sure he does,” Cynthia replied, pushing off from the doorframe and walking into the room. “But don’t hog him. I want a turn.”
Maribel stood up and began to undress. She peeled off her tank top, revealing a simple black lace bra that barely contained her magnificent tits. She unhooked it and let it fall, and Asher’s breath caught in his throat. Her breasts were perfect—large and full with dark, prominent nipples that were already hard with arousal. She slid her leggings down, taking a pair of matching black lace panties with them. She was completely naked, her body a masterpiece of smooth, sun-kissed skin and dangerous curves.
She lay back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows. “Your turn, big boy,” she said, spreading her legs.
Asher didn’t need to be told twice. He climbed onto the bed, his mind a blur of sensation. He positioned himself over her, his cock hovering at the entrance to her pussy. She was already wet, her lips swollen and glistening.
“Condom,” Cynthia said from the side of the bed. She was holding one out to him.
He took it, his fingers fumbling. Maribel took it from him with an amused smile.
“Allow me,” she said, expertly ripping it open and rolling it down his length. Her touch was clinical but incredibly arousing.
He looked down at her, at her smoldering eyes and her body laid out before him like an offering. “Are you ready?” he asked, the words feeling inadequate.
“I was born ready,” she purred.
He pushed into her. And the difference was night and day. Where Maria had been a tight, unyielding wall of pain, Maribel was a hot, wet, welcoming embrace. She was tight, yes, but it was a delicious, yielding tightness that seemed to suck him in. He slid into her in one long, smooth stroke, until he was buried to the hilt.
Maribel let out a long, low moan, her head falling back against the pillows. “Oh, fuck yes,” she breathed. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Asher’s mind was reeling. The feeling of being inside her, of being completely enveloped by her wet heat, was better than anything he had ever imagined. He began to move, his hips finding a slow, steady rhythm. He pulled out almost all the way, then pushed back in, watching as his thick cock disappeared into her over and over again.
“Faster,” she commanded, her hands gripping his ass, pulling him into her. “Fuck me harder, Asher.”
He obliged, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming more powerful. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, mingling with their moans and grunts. He was lost in a haze of pure sensation, the world narrowing down to the feeling of her pussy gripping his cock, the sight of her tits bouncing with every thrust, and the sound of her cries of pleasure.
He looked over and saw Cynthia standing by the bed, watching them with a rapt expression. She had pulled down the top of her red dress, freeing her own large, pale tits, and was pinching and pulling on her pink nipples.
“Don’t forget about me,” she said, her voice thick with desire.
Maribel, ever in control, slowed her hips. “Switch,” she said, pushing against his chest. “My turn to watch.”
Asher pulled out of her, his cock glistening with her juices. He felt a momentary pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by anticipation as he turned to Cynthia.
She was already climbing onto the bed, lying on her back next to Maribel. She hiked up her dress, revealing that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Her pussy was completely bare, a neat, pink slit that was already dripping wet.
“Come on, Asher,” she said, spreading her legs wide. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He moved over to her, positioning himself between her thighs. He entered her just as he had entered Maribel, in one long, smooth stroke. Cynthia was different. She was tighter, her pussy gripping him like a vise. She was also more vocal.
“Oh, god! Yes! Fuck me with that huge cock!” she cried out as he bottomed out inside her.
He began to fuck her, his rhythm hard and fast. She was wild beneath him, her hips bucking up to meet his every thrust, her hands clawing at his back. She wrapped her long legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on.
“Harder! Don’t stop! Don’t you fucking stop!” she screamed.
He was pounding into her now, his balls slapping against her ass with every stroke. He could feel his orgasm building, a deep, coiling tension in his groin. He didn’t know how much longer he could last.
Just as he felt himself reaching the point of no return, Maribel’s voice cut through the fog. “Not yet, big boy. You’re not done yet.”
She reached over and grabbed his hip, slowing his movements. He pulled out of Cynthia, who let out a frustrated whimper.
“What the fuck, Bel?” she complained.
“Patience, my dear,” Maribel said with a wicked grin. She looked at Asher, who was panting, his body slick with sweat. “You’ve had one of us. You’ve had the other of us. But you haven’t had us together.”
She leaned over and kissed Cynthia, a deep, passionate kiss that was full of promise. Then she looked back at Asher.
“Are you ready for the main event, virgin boy?”
He could only nod, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Chapter 5: The Main Event
What happened next was a blur of limbs and lips and skin, a kaleidoscope of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Maribel and Cynthia were a well-oiled machine of seduction, their movements perfectly in sync, their focus entirely on him and on each other.
They pulled him down onto the bed between them. Maribel kissed him, her tongue exploring his mouth, while Cynthia’s hands roamed his body, her touch light and teasing. Then Cynthia kissed him, her lips soft and demanding, while Maribel’s mouth found his neck, her teeth nipping at his skin.
They were all over him, a four-handed, two-mouthed assault on his senses. They licked and sucked and kissed every inch of his body, their tongues tracing patterns on his chest, his stomach, his thighs. They took turns sucking his cock, their mouths working in tandem, one licking his shaft while the other sucked on his balls, driving him to the brink of madness before pulling back, leaving him gasping and desperate.
Then they turned their attention to each other. Asher watched, mesmerized, as Maribel pushed Cynthia onto her back and climbed on top of her, her dark hair a stark contrast against Cynthia’s blonde. They kissed, their hands roaming each other’s bodies, their moans filling the room. Maribel kissed her way down Cynthia’s body, her tongue tracing a path between her tits, over her stomach, until she reached her bare, wet pussy.
She spread Cynthia’s legs wide and dove in, her tongue lapping at her clit. Cynthia cried out, her back arching off the bed, her hands tangling in Maribel’s hair. Asher watched, his cock throbbing, as Maribel ate her friend out with a practiced expertise that was incredibly arousing.
“Don’t just sit there and watch, Asher,” Maribel said, her voice muffled by Cynthia’s pussy. “Fuck me.”
He didn’t hesitate. He moved behind Maribel, who was on her hands and knees, her face buried in Cynthia’s cunt. He grabbed her hips and slammed into her from behind, his balls slapping against her clit with every thrust.
The feeling was incredible. He was fucking Maribel, watching her eat out Cynthia, who was writhing and moaning on the bed in front of him. It was a sensory overload, a fantasy he didn’t even know he had come to life in the most spectacular way possible.
He pounded into Maribel, his thrusts hard and deep, just the way she liked it. He could feel her pussy tightening around him, her body tensing as her own orgasm approached. At the same time, Cynthia’s cries grew louder, her body bucking wildly as Maribel’s tongue brought her to the edge.
“Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming!” Cynthia screamed, her body convulsing in a powerful orgasm.
Maribel moaned against her pussy, her own body shuddering as she came, her pussy clamping down on Asher’s cock like a velvet vise. The feeling of her cumming around him, combined with the sight of Cynthia’s orgasm, was too much for him to bear.
With a loud groan, he thrust into her one last time, his cock erupting in a powerful, mind-blowing orgasm that seemed to go on forever. He pumped his load into the condom, his body shaking with the force of his release.
He collapsed onto the bed, completely spent, his body slick with sweat. The three of them lay there for a long time, a tangled, panting heap of limbs, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing.
Asher had lost his virginity. Not in the sweet, romantic way he had planned with Maria, but in a wild, hedonistic night of pure, unadulterated debauchery with two beautiful, experienced women. And as he lay there, sandwiched between Maribel and Cynthia, he couldn’t bring himself to feel a single ounce of regret.