Wet Lips and Dual Delights

The weeks following the spontaneous threesome with my close friend, my girlfriend seemed unsettled, gently probing about what had transpired. I, equally uneasy, sidestepped her questions, and soon she let the matter drop.

I reconnected with my friend after a few weeks, keeping our conversation light and avoiding any mention of that night. He stayed away from our place for a while.

Over a month later, my girlfriend noted how strange it was that my friend hadn’t swung by. I shrugged it off, suggesting his new job was keeping him busy.

She proposed inviting him for a weekend at our house, and I sent the invite.

That weekend came, and on Saturday afternoon, my friend arrived at our doorstep.

We lounged in the backyard, trading small talk about work and local gossip, then headed to a nearby lake for a quick swim and some cold drinks. We were back home by dusk, and that wild night from weeks ago never came up.

As evening settled, my girlfriend suggested we hit the town for drinks. It sounded fun, so we changed and went out.

We bar-hopped through the city, sipping cocktails and laughing, the vibe growing looser with each round.

I drove, so I stuck to one beer. My girlfriend, glowing from the alcohol, eventually leaned in close, her breath warm, and whispered we should head home.

Back at the house, we poured some whiskey, dimmed the lights, and sprawled across the couch. Soft jazz filled the room as our chatter turned flirty – no mention of the threesome, but the air grew thick with suggestion.

Abruptly, my girlfriend yawned, claiming exhaustion. She stood, sauntered over, and kissed me softly on the lips – then turned and pressed her lips to my friend’s. Her eyes smoldered as she purred, “I’ll be in the bedroom, waiting,” before gliding out of the room.

My friend and I locked eyes, the silence heavy.

We nursed our drinks for another ten minutes, then, wordlessly, made our way to the bedroom.

She was waiting, draped across the bed in a barely-there lace slip, her curves visible through the delicate fabric, a black thong hugging her hips. The sight sent a jolt through me.

She rose, wrapping her arms around us, her perfume intoxicating. Her lips found mine, then his, alternating in a slow, teasing rhythm. Her fingers grazed our necks, pulling us closer until our faces met, and her tongue danced between us, drawing us into a messy, three-way kiss – lips and breaths colliding, warm and urgent.

Her hands slid lower, deftly unbuckling our belts, the leather snapping free. She tugged our jeans down, and we shed our shirts, standing bare before her. Her eyes roamed over us, hungry.

She sank to her knees, her breath hot as she leaned toward me, her tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles around my tip before taking me deep, her lips tight and slick. Her hand wrapped around my friend, stroking him in sync. My pulse raced as I hardened in her mouth, her moans vibrating against me.

She stood, still gripping him, and pulled me into a kiss – her tongue swirling, leaving the taste of myself on my lips, sharp and intimate. She knelt again, turning to my friend, her mouth enveloping him as she pumped me with her hand, her fingers slick and firm.

Rising, she kissed him, her lips glistening. Then she knelt once more, taking me again, her tongue coiling, saliva pooling as she worked me. She stood, but this time kissed my friend, their mouths locked in a deep, wet exchange.

When she knelt again, I braced myself. She sucked my friend, her cheeks hollowing, then crawled to me, her lips parted, a thin trail of liquid escaping. She grabbed my neck, her grip possessive, and pressed her mouth to mine, parting her lips to flood me with his taste – salty, warm, overwhelming. She held me there, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to pull away. I swallowed, the act raw and electric, her dominance thrilling.

She slipped off her thong, the lace falling to the floor, and reclined on the bed, her legs parted invitingly. I knelt by her face, guiding myself toward her lips. My friend settled between her thighs, his mouth exploring her, his tongue delving into her folds as she sighed softly.

After a while, we switched. I tasted her – sweet, musky, her hips bucking slightly against my lips as I teased her clit with slow, deliberate flicks. I noticed my friend’s arousal seemed inconsistent, not fully there.

As I worked her, my friend joined me, our faces close, taking turns lapping at her, our breaths mingling. Her moans grew louder, her hands tangling in our hair.

Soon, she gasped, pleading for more. I motioned for my friend to go first, shifting to her mouth. Her lips closed around me, warm and eager.

His erection faltered, but he entered her, his movements tentative. We stayed like that briefly until she tugged at my arm, urging me to take over.

I paused, lowering my mouth to her again, savoring the mix of her arousal and his presence – a heady, forbidden thrill. Her taste was intoxicating, her hips grinding against my face. She sucked him, her head bobbing rhythmically.

We went on, and she demanded to switch positions. I lay back, and she straddled me, but first positioned herself on all fours, her mouth devouring me, her tongue swirling as she took me deep. My friend knelt behind her, his lips and tongue tracing her curves, lapping at her eagerly.