Her entrance gaped around my knuckles, lips pulled taut and flushed dark, inner walls rippling in frantic, useless contractions as the high-frequency tremors rattled every nerve ending at once.
Fluid sprayed out in fine, constant mist around my forearms; hot, clear jets that hit my skin and dripped in heavy lines to the floor, pooling wider with every pulse.
Her clit jerked visibly under the soaked black shorts, swollen to twice its size, the hood peeled completely back, the tiny nub dancing like it was being shocked over and over.
But... she hadn’t co yet—her body was locked in torturous plateau, every muscle quivering on the brink, walls spasming desperately but never quite tipping into the rhythmic clench of release.
The overstimulation kept her hanging there, leaking endlessly, thighs shaking, breath coming in short, shattered gasps.
But I was already so close.
So...
Victory is mine... or so I thought!
"Eh?! Th-that’s playing dirty!" I suddenly whined, my brows furrowing.
"Like you’re one to talk!" Roselyn lashed back, voice hoarse and cracking.
Her hands never stopped—still working my dick with vicious skill, palms slick with saliva and pre-cum, twisting and pumping in counter-rhythm to my thrusts inside her.
My breeches were shoved low around my thighs now, fabric bunched at my knees, shaft fully exposed and throbbing in her grip.
This scheming fairy!
Now she had ordered the twins to do sothing really crazy.
Claire and Clay moved in perfect unison, slender fingers sliding down to the front of their deep blue panties.
They hooked the lace-trimd waistbands with trembling index fingers, lifted the fabric upward slowly—deliberately slow! —until the cotton peeled away from their soaked pussy with a sticky, wet schlick.
Thick, clear arousal clung to the material in glistening strings that stretched and snapped as they drew the panties to the side.
The crotch ca away reluctantly, dragging over swollen outer lips before folding aside completely.
Raw, glistening vaginas ca into full view—beautiful, slender girls exposed and pulsing.
Their entrances breathed with every shaky inhale, pink inner folds parting slightly on each exhale, glistening with fresh slick that welled up and trickled down in slow, viscous flows.
The lips were puffy, flushed deep rose, clits peeking out from under fleshy hoods, erect and twitching in ti with their rapid breathing.
The openings clenched and released involuntarily, as if silently begging for sothing—just anything—to fill them.
A faint, sweet scent of sex drifted up, mixing with the heavy musk already thick in the room.
Their thighs trembled from holding the position, I could see their inner muscles flexing, the wetness shining on pale skin in thin, shining trails that caught the crystal light.
World-class cute girls I just t were suddenly showing their private parts, so I was already as good as defeated... but no... Roselyn was a taskmaster. A villain, even.
Another silent order from her, and it did the deed. It buried completely.
Claire—who sat closest to Isabelle on the bed—blushed so violently her pale cheeks turned tomato-red, ears glowing, neck flushed down to her collarbone.
She nodded slowly, small and determined. Then her hands moved.
"Wait! What are you doing?!"
Isabelle squeaked, her voice pitching high in surprise, but Claire’s fingers were already there—delicate and steady—gripping the crotch of Isabelle’s black panties and shifting them firmly to the side.
Readers, I was now looking at Isabelle—THE Isabelle—vagina.
Hm.
It was... red, swollen, and squelching on its own.
The outer lips were plump and parted naturally from how aroused she was, inner folds glistening dark pink and slick, entrance winking with every quick breath.
Wetness slipped out in slow, continuous streams—thick, clear fluid welling up from deep inside and rolling down her perineum in shining trails that soaked the sheets beneath her.
The clit stood proud at the top, engorged and flushed, hood retracted completely, the tiny pearl throbbing visibly with her heartbeat.
Cleanly shaved, every detail was on shaless display: smooth surface, delicate crease, the faint ridge of her inner lips glistening under the soft glow.
A fresh bead of arousal gathered at the entrance and dripped downward in a slow, heavy drop that stretched and snapped against the mattress.
The sight was obscene and sowhat hypnotic—raw and vulnerable, dripping with need.
Roselyn had won. She killed .
And to make sure my dead body never rose again—
"Sorry, Isabelle, excuse ," Claire whispered.
Then she pressed her lips to Isabelle’s.
The kiss started excruciatingly soft; tentative, almost apologetic—but deepened instantly into sothing feral.
Claire tilted her head, her small mouth opening wide, tongue sliding past Isabelle’s parted lips in one smooth, hungry thrust.
Isabelle stiffened for half a heartbeat, but lted completely.
Her hands flew up to cradle Claire’s face, her fingers threading into the violet hair, pulling her closer.
Their tongues t in a wet, twisting dance—sliding alongside each other, curling, stroking the undersides, pushing deep until their lips sealed tight and cheeks hollowed from suction.
Saliva gathered fast—thick, warm strands stretching between tongues every ti they parted for breath, only to snap and drip down chins when they crashed back together.
Claire sucked Isabelle’s lower lip between her teeth, tugging gently until it stretched, then released with a wet pop before diving back in.
Isabelle answered by biting Claire’s upper lip, teeth grazing just hard enough to sting, then soothing it with slow, broad licks that traced the seam of her mouth.
Tongues battled—thrusting, retreating, grinding flat against each other in sloppy, desperate circles.
Saliva overflowed, running in glistening trails down their necks, soaking collarbones and dripping onto exposed chests.
Breaths ca in hot, ragged pants through noses, muffled moans vibrating into each other’s mouths, lips swollen and red from the friction.
Instead of pulling away blushing, Isabelle softened further—body arching toward Claire, small breasts pressing against Claire’s through their tops, nipples dragging through fabric as they shifted.
She returned the kiss with equal hunger—tongue plunging deeper, sucking Claire’s tongue into her mouth, swirling around it in slow, possessive strokes, sharing thick strings of saliva that connected their lips even when they pulled back for air.
Okay, I’m so freaking dead.
I was going to cum any second now, and you can’t bla for it.
However, I decided to--instead of accepting defeat and lying in my grave like a nice and obedient corpse--turn into a sore loser.
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