Wet Lips and Dual Delights

She shifted, climbing atop me, guiding me inside her with a slow, deliberate descent. She rode me hard, her hips rolling, her breaths sharp and ragged. My friend moved behind her, his hands cupping her breasts, kneading them as he pressed himself against her back. Their eyes burned into mine, raw and unfiltered.

When I neared my limit, she slid off, collapsing beside me, her chest heaving. I parted her thighs, my tongue diving back to her, cleaning her with slow, reverent licks, her taste now mixed with mine. My friend watched, stroking himself, but his arousal remained soft.

I climbed over her, entering her again, her warmth enveloping me. She pulled my friend close, her lips working him with fervent pulls.

In a heated moment, she paused, grabbed my neck, and kissed me, her tongue plunging deep. Still holding me, she turned to suck him again, my face brushing her cheek, inches from his shaft. She pulled him free, kissed me fiercely, then guided his tip toward us. My lips grazed him as she urged us on, and soon I was tasting him – warm, pulsing, her hand guiding him fully into my mouth. She eased her grip, letting me pull back slightly, but her gaze held me, wild and commanding, her eyes alight with desire.

My friend stepped back, positioning himself behind me, his hands spreading me as he pressed himself closer, trying to enter. His softness prevented it, and though my girlfriend’s eyes gleamed with hope, it didn’t happen. Days later, alone, she confessed her disappointment, her voice tinged with curiosity about what might’ve been.

Frustrated, my friend returned to her mouth. She sucked him eagerly, her hand still on my neck as I moved inside her, my climax building.

Suddenly, he shuddered, his release spilling into her mouth. She pushed him aside, grabbed my neck, and pulled me into a searing kiss – his warmth flooding my mouth, mingling with her taste. The intensity pushed me over the edge, and I came hard inside her, my body trembling.

When her mouth was empty, she released me. I collapsed, spent, the bed soft beneath me.

My friend knelt between her legs, his tongue lapping at the mess I’d left, his movements slow and thorough. Then he crawled to me, his lips brushing my skin as he cleaned me, his tongue warm and meticulous.

My girlfriend watched, propped on her elbows, her fingers circling her clit. Her eyes flicked between his actions and my face, her expression pure, unbridled lust.

Exhausted, we collapsed, sleep claiming us.

Morning came, and it felt surreal, like a fever dream.

My friend had slipped out to the guest room we’d prepped for him.

That Sunday, we were warmer than usual, sharing soft touches and easy laughter, but we didn’t speak of the night.

By late afternoon, my friend left, and we parted without planning his next visit, as was our habit…

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