 |
By *ordlad OP Man
4 days ago
wrexham |
The text arrives on a Wednesday evening while I’m making dinner.
Jamie: I want a whole night with my jealous little slut. No rushing. No listening for keys. Just you, me, and all the noise you held back last time.
The words burn. Not only in my chest, where the jealousy still lives like a low, constant bruise, but lower—sharp and immediate between my legs. I read the message twice, then a third time, feeling myself get wet just from the casual ownership in it.
I tell my partner I’m staying at a friend’s house next Friday. “She’s just broken up with her boyfriend,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Thought she could use the company.” He doesn’t question it. He never does.
I book a Travelodge on the edge of town. Ground-floor room, parking right outside. I send Jamie the address and the booking reference. His reply is short.
Jamie: Be naked when you open the door. And this time I want to hear every sound. No biting your lip. No keeping quiet. You’re going to make up for being such a good little silent slut in that kitchen and that bathroom. Understand?
Me: Yes.
Friday night I drive there with a small overnight bag and a stomach full of nerves and heat. I check in, find the room, and strip the moment the door closes behind me. I leave the bag on the chair, fold my clothes neatly, and wait.
When the knock comes I walk to the door naked, heart hammering, cunt already slick. I open it expecting only Jamie.
There are two of them.
Jamie stands there in a dark hoodie and jeans, that familiar half-smile on his face. Beside him is a girl I’ve never seen in person—blonde, pretty, sharp-eyed, maybe nineteen or twenty. She’s looking me up and down with open interest, not surprise.
“Claire,” Jamie says calmly. “This is Sophie. She knows. She’s known for a while.”
Sophie steps past him into the room without waiting for an invitation. Her gaze flicks over my bare body—breasts, stomach, shaved cunt—and she makes a small, appreciative sound.
“She’s exactly how you described,” she says to him. “A bit older than I pictured, but look at that body. And she’s already wet. I can see it.”
I stand frozen, still holding the door. My mind is blank with shock. A woman. Jamie has brought a woman. I have never touched a woman like that. Never even seriously thought about it. The idea has simply never lived in my head until this exact second, and now she is standing in the room looking at me like she already owns a share of me.
Jamie closes the door and locks it.
“You said a whole night with your jealous slut,” I manage, voice thinner than I want.
“I did.” He walks toward me, reaches out, and cups my bare cunt in one hand, two fingers sliding through the wetness like he owns it. “And I brought company. Sophie’s just as demanding as I am. Maybe more. Tonight you’re going to be useful for both of us.”
Sophie circles me slowly. She stops behind me, presses close, and lets one hand slide around to cup my breast while the other rests low on my stomach. Her skin is soft, warmer than I expected, and the simple fact of another woman’s body against mine makes my breath catch in a way that has nothing to do with Jamie’s fingers still moving inside me.
“Jamie told me how quiet you usually are,” she murmurs against my ear. “How you swallow his come in front of his mum and don’t make a sound. How you take it in the arse in your own bed and bite the duvet. That’s done now. Tonight you’re going to be loud. We’re going to make sure of it.”
Jamie’s fingers push deeper while she speaks. I gasp.
They don’t give me time to think. Jamie walks me backward to the bed and sits on the edge, pulling me down so I’m straddling his lap, still facing him. Sophie stays behind me. I hear the soft sound of her undressing, then feel her bare skin against my back—smooth, slight, unmistakably female. Her hands roam—cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, sliding down to spread my cheeks while Jamie guides his cock into my cunt in one smooth thrust.
I cry out. Properly. Loud.
“That’s better,” Sophie says, and I feel the slick head of something—her fingers, then what must be a small toy—press against my arse. She works it in while Jamie starts fucking me from below, steady and deep. The dual stretch forces another broken sound out of me.
“Louder,” Jamie orders, hands on my hips. “I want the people in the next room to hear what a filthy fucking slut you are.”
Sophie leans over my shoulder so her mouth is against my ear. “He told me about the jealousy. About how you got narky because I get to moan when he fucks me. So tonight you’re going to moan for both of us.”
They use me like that for a long time—Jamie fucking my cunt, Sophie working my arse with fingers and then a slim toy, both of them telling me when to come and when to stop. Every time I start to go quiet they push harder, pinch, slap, demand more sound until my voice is raw.
Then Sophie climbs onto the bed in front of me, spreads her legs, and pulls my face between them while Jamie keeps thrusting into me from behind.
I freeze for a second.
I have never done this. Never put my mouth on a woman. Never even imagined the reality of it up close. Her cunt is right there—pink, glistening, already wet from watching us. The scent hits me first: warm, musky, slightly sweet, different from anything I’ve known. Jamie’s hand tightens in my hair and pushes me forward.
“Make her come,” he says. “And don’t you dare stop making noise while you do it.”
I open my mouth and lick.
The taste is immediate and strange and intimate—clean skin and salt and a soft, slippery wetness that coats my tongue. It’s milder than I somehow expected, almost delicate at first, then richer as I press closer and drag my tongue through her folds. She is softer than any man, the flesh giving under my mouth in a way that feels completely foreign. I find her clit—small, swollen, slippery—and circle it the way I would want someone to do to me. Sophie’s hands tighten in my curly hair. She makes a sharp, pleased sound.
I keep licking, sucking gently, learning the taste as I go. It coats my lips, my chin. Every time Jamie bottoms out inside me I moan against her, the vibration making her hips twitch. The combination is overwhelming—his thick cock stretching my cunt, the toy still in my arse, and this new, unexpected flavour filling my mouth while a woman I’ve only just met grinds against my face.
Sophie comes with a sharp cry, thighs trembling around my head, fresh wetness spilling onto my tongue. I keep licking through it because Jamie hasn’t told me to stop, tasting the change in her—hotter, sharper, more intense as she finishes.
Only then does he let me come—ordering me to finish with her taste still in my mouth and his cock buried deep. The orgasm hits harder than usual, tangled up with the shock of what I’ve just done.
They don’t stop after that.
They take turns. They use my mouth, my cunt, my arse. Sophie makes me go down on her again later, slower this time, while Jamie watches and strokes himself. She teaches me with quiet, firm instructions—where to press, how hard to suck, when to use my fingers inside her. I learn the taste properly: the way she gets wetter the longer I stay there, the way her flavour deepens when she’s close, the soft, slippery heat of her against my tongue. I have never thought about wanting this. Now I can’t stop noticing every detail.
By the early hours I’m a wreck—sweaty, marked, voice hoarse, come leaking from me onto the hotel sheets, Sophie’s taste still faint on my lips. Jamie and Sophie lie on either side of me, not soft, not tender, just proprietary. His hand rests between my legs. Hers rests on my breast.
“You’re staying the whole night,” Jamie says quietly. “We’re not done with you yet.”
Sophie smiles against my shoulder, fingers idly stroking my nipple.
“Not even close.”
I close my eyes, body still trembling, and realise two things at once.
The jealousy is gone.
And I have just done something I never once imagined I would do—and the taste of her is still in my mouth. |
