Chapter 101: Shower time
The cold plunge tub bit into Bruce’s overheated skin, a sharp, welcome shock after the steam and exertion. He sank deeper, the icy water numbing the pleasant ache in his muscles – the burn from Sophia’s workout layered thickly over the deeper, satisfying throb from Ketut’s ass and Sophia’s relentless ride. His cock lay spent against his thigh, a heavy, softened weight. Eucalyptus still hung in the humid air, mingling with the mineral scent of the water. He closed his eyes, the swirling colors behind his lids a chaotic mix of deep blue exhaustion and flecks of gold contentment.
The rhythmic slap of bare feet on wet mosaic tile broke the quiet hum. He didn’t need to open his eyes.
"Well, well," Camille's voice, rich and amused, cut through the chill. "Looks like someone got thoroughly wrung out." Bruce opened his eyes. Camille stood at the edge of the plunge pool, dripping onto the black stones. Water streamed down her powerful Latina curves – the thick, muscular legs Sophia had honed to perfection, the small, high breasts beaded with droplets, the magnificent swell of her ass Bruce had worshipped for over two decades. Her dark eyes held a familiar, confident heat, a playful challenge. Beside her, Lena practically vibrated with energy. Her own recently sculpted legs gleamed, her small perky tits taut, but it was her ass, Bruce’s proclaimed "best booty," that commanded attention. High, impossibly round, a perfect shelf of muscle and flesh, it seemed to defy gravity even as she shifted her weight impatiently. Her gaze was locked on Bruce, hungry and possessive.
"Did those two leave enough juice for your two oldest wives?" Camille asked, a smirk playing on her lips. She stepped down into the plunge pool, the icy water making her gasp softly before she sank in opposite Bruce. The cold barely registered against her simmering core heat. "Or did Sophia and Ketut drain the main reservoir?"
Lena didn't wait for an answer. She practically leapt into the tub, displacing water that sloshed over the edge. She waded straight towards Bruce, her thick thighs parting the cold water. "Fuck juice," Lena declared, her voice thick with need. She straddled Bruce’s lap before he could adjust, her warm, wet pussy pressing against his softening cock. Her hands gripped his shoulders. "I need you. Right fucking now." Her dark eyes bored into his, fierce and unwavering. "Been thinking about this ass," she ground her hips, her slick folds rubbing his cockhead, feeling it twitch in response, "riding this cock," she leaned forward, her breath hot against his ear, "since breakfast. Sophia can sculpt muscle, but she can't sculpt this need." She nipped his earlobe. "I'm fucking addicted, Bruce. And I need my fix."
Camille chuckled, a low, throaty sound. She watched Lena’s possessiveness, a flicker of shared understanding passing between the wives. "See?" Camille murmured, shifting closer through the icy water. Her hand slid up Bruce’s thigh beneath the surface, her fingers brushing Lena’s hip before finding his cock. It was thickening rapidly under Lena’s insistent grinding and Camille’s knowing touch. "Told you she was addicted." Camille’s fingers wrapped around his girth, giving him a firm, slow stroke, her thumb rubbing the sensitive underside of the head, slick with Lena’s arousal. "But don't think I'm just here to watch, mi amor." Her gaze met his, confident, devouring. "I want a taste too. A deep, hard taste."
Bruce groaned, the conflicting sensations overwhelming – the icy water, Lena’s scorching heat on his lap, Camille’s expert hand on his cock, now fully hard and straining against Lena’s wetness. The swirling colors in his eyes churned violently – deep blue lust reignited, flecks of gold battling exhaustion, a streak of possessive green flaring for these two women who knew him, owned parts of him like no others. "Christ, you two," he rasped, his hands finding Lena’s hips, gripping the magnificent curve of her ass. "Ganging up on me?"
"Always," Lena breathed, lifting herself slightly. Camille guided his thick cockhead, slick and flushed, directly to Lena’s dripping entrance. Lena sank down with a gasp, taking him deep in one smooth, practiced motion. Her tight channel clenched around him instantly, hot and wet despite the cold water surrounding them. "FUCK! Yes! Right there!" She began rocking immediately, her powerful thighs driving her hips, riding him with the fierce, demanding rhythm Bruce knew so well. Her magnificent ass bounced against his thighs with each downward thrust.
Camille didn't hesitate. While Lena rode Bruce’s cock, Camille moved behind Lena. Her hands slid over Lena’s wet back, down to grip her hips firmly. She pressed her body flush against Lena’s back, her own wet pussy grinding against the base of Lena’s spine. Camille’s mouth found Lena’s shoulder, biting gently, then licking the water away. "Ride him, chica," Camille murmured against Lena’s skin, her voice thick with her own arousal. "Take that beautiful cock deep." One of Camille’s hands slid around Lena’s hip, fingers delving through dark curls, finding Lena’s clit. She rubbed firm, rapid circles. "Make him feel how fucking wet you are for him."
Lena cried out, her rhythm faltering for a second as Camille’s fingers worked her clit. "Camille! Oh fuck! Yes!" She pushed back against Camille, grinding her ass against Camille’s mound, then surged forward again, driving Bruce deeper inside her. "Bruce! Fuck! She’s… she’s making me… AH!"
Bruce watched, mesmerized, as Camille orchestrated Lena’s pleasure while taking her own. Camille’s dark eyes met his over Lena’s shoulder, burning with shared lust and profound understanding. Her fingers never stopped working Lena’s clit. "Look at her," Camille commanded Bruce, her voice low and intense. "Look at your addicted little slut take your cock. See how much she needs it?" Lena moaned in agreement, her head falling back against Camille’s shoulder. "Now," Camille’s gaze intensified, "give it to her. Fuck up into her. Hard. Make her scream."
Bruce obeyed. Gripping Lena’s hips tighter, he thrust upwards powerfully, meeting her downward plunge. His thick cock pistoned deep into her gripping heat. The slap of wet flesh echoed sharply – Lena’s ass against his thighs, Camille’s hips grinding against Lena’s back. Lena’s cries escalated into continuous, high-pitched wails. "YES! FUCK! DEEPER! CAMILLE! BRUCE! OH GOD! I’M GONNA—!"
Camille bit Lena’s shoulder again, harder this time. "Cum!" she hissed. "Cum all over his cock, Lena! Show him what his best booty can do!"
Lena shattered. Her body locked rigid, a guttural scream tearing from her throat as her pussy clamped down on Bruce’s shaft in violent, rhythmic spasms. Her juices flooded out, hot against his thrusting cock. Bruce grunted, the intense pressure threatening his own control. Camille moaned, grinding harder against Lena’s convulsing back, her own climax triggered by Lena’s ecstasy and the raw power of the scene she commanded.
Bruce held deep as Lena’s orgasm pulsed through her, feeling her inner muscles milk him relentlessly. The sight of his oldest wives entwined, lost in shared pleasure centered on his cock, was the final trigger. He roared, slamming up one final time, burying himself to the hilt. "CAMILLE! LENA! FUCK!" Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from his balls, firing deep into Lena’s spasming channel. He jerked, spurting jet after searing jet, claiming her depths as she trembled against him and Camille.
They slumped together in the icy water, a tangled, gasping mess. Lena collapsed forward onto Bruce’s chest, whimpering. Camille leaned heavily against Lena’s back, her breathing ragged, a satisfied smile curving her lips. Bruce held them both, his arms encircling them, the cold water a stark contrast to the furnace heat radiating from their joined bodies. His cock pulsed weakly inside Lena’s warmth. The swirling colors in his eyes were a deep, tranquil blend of gold and green – contentment, possession, profound connection.
The distant chime of the villa’s lunch bell pierced the humid air. Camille lifted her head, brushing damp hair from Lena’s forehead. "Time’s up, shadow," she murmured, her voice warm but firm. "The compound calls."
Lena groaned, nuzzling deeper against Bruce. "Five more minutes."
Bruce chuckled, the sound rough but relaxed. He gently eased Lena off his softening cock, a wet sound marking the separation. He helped her stand, her legs shaky. Camille stood too, water streaming down her powerful frame, her gaze meeting Bruce’s with unwavering devotion. "Always enough juice for you two," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled Camille close for a brief, hard kiss, tasting salt and shared passion. "Always."
They climbed out of the plunge pool, dripping onto the mosaic floor. The scent of frangipani drifted in from the open walls. The game, the rhythm, the demanding pulse of their shared life continued. Lunch awaited, and the afternoon promised its own unique blend of sweat, passion, and the unwavering bond of eight hearts beating as one.
The frangipani scent thickened as they stepped onto the sun-warmed teak decking bordering the plunge pool area. Water dripped from Bruce’s shoulders onto the dark wood, tracing paths through the fine dust. Camille squeezed Lena’s hand, a silent reassurance after the intensity in the cold water. Lena leaned into Bruce’s side, her damp skin radiating heat against his flank, her possessiveness momentarily softened into contentment. The distant clatter of plates from the main villa underscored the lunch bell’s fading echo. Bruce inhaled deeply, the humid air filling his lungs, the lingering ozone tang of exertion mixing with floral sweetness. His muscles hummed pleasantly, a complex symphony of fatigue and satiation.
"Think Ketut’s showing Sophia the new orchids?" Camille asked, her voice a low murmur as she toweled her thick, dark hair. She watched Bruce, her gaze tracing the water droplets clinging to the defined ridges of his abdomen. Lena chuckled, the sound rich and warm.
"Probably showing her how much her ass still jiggles after Bruce rearranged it," Lena quipped, reaching back to give her own magnificent buttock a playful slap. "Sophia’s proud. Rightfully so." She stretched, the muscles in her sculpted back rippling, her small breasts lifting. Bruce grinned, the gold flecks swirling prominently in his hazel eyes. He reached out, pulling Lena against him again, his hand settling possessively on the curve he’d crowned ‘best booty’. She melted into him instantly.
"Sophia’s a force," Bruce agreed, his thumb tracing the swell of Lena’s hip bone beneath her damp skin. "Ketut… she took it beautifully." The raw memory of her tight heat yielding, her cries echoing off the tiles, sent a fresh pulse through his spent cock. Camille’s knowing smile deepened. She stepped closer, her own towel discarded, her confident presence filling the space beside them. Her hand slid up Bruce’s arm, her touch firm, grounding.
"She did," Camille affirmed. Her dark eyes held his, unwavering. "Just like Lena took you in the cold tub." Her gaze flickered down pointedly to where Lena’s warmth still pressed against him. "And just like I intend to take you later." The promise hung heavy in the air, a delicious counterpoint to the lunchtime summons. Lena nipped playfully at Bruce’s shoulder.
"Later?" Lena protested, her voice thick with renewed hunger. She ground her ass back against his groin, feeling the dormant heat stir. "Why wait? Jasmine’s probably still meditating by the koi pond." Her hand slid behind her, fingers finding the soft weight of Bruce’s balls, cupping them possessively. "We have time. Right here." She tilted her head back, seeking his mouth. Bruce met her kiss, tasting salt and Lena’s unique fire. Camille watched, her own arousal a visible thrum beneath her skin. She didn’t protest Lena’s impulsiveness; she understood the addiction intimately.
Bruce broke the kiss, his breath catching as Lena’s fingers tightened slightly. His gaze swept over Camille, taking in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her nipples pebbled in the humid air despite the lingering chill from the pool. The blue surged back in his eyes, mingling fiercely with the gold. "Camille?" His voice was rough gravel.
Camille didn’t need words. She stepped behind Lena, her body pressing flush against Lena’s back. Her hands slid around Lena’s waist, fingers interlacing just below Lena’s navel. She pressed Lena firmly back against Bruce’s thickening erection. "Show me," Camille murmured against Lena’s ear, her voice thick with command. "Show me how badly you need him. Right now." Lena moaned, arching her back, pushing her ass harder against Bruce’s cock, now rapidly swelling against her cleft. Camille’s hands moved lower, fingers slipping through Lena’s dark curls, finding her slick folds. She parted them easily, exposing Lena’s glistening entrance. "Guide him in, mi sombra," Camille breathed. "Take what you crave."
Lena gasped, her hand reaching back, fingers slick with her own arousal, wrapping around Bruce’s shaft. She angled him, the broad, flushed head pressing firmly against her soaked opening. "Now, Bruce," she demanded, her voice trembling with urgency. "Fuck me. Hard. Like in the tub." She pushed back, impaling herself on his thickness with a single, desperate thrust. "AH! FUCK! YES!" Her cry echoed off the vaulted ceiling. Bruce groaned, the sudden, hot clench of her channel stealing his breath. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into the resilient flesh of her ass, and slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Lena screamed, her head falling back against Camille’s shoulder.
Camille held Lena steady, her own hips grinding subtly against Lena’s lower back. One hand remained buried between Lena’s legs, fingers expertly rubbing Lena’s clit in tight, rapid circles. "That’s it," Camille hissed, her eyes locked on Bruce’s face, watching the raw pleasure twist his features. "Fuck her. Pound that perfect ass into the deck. Make her scream louder." Bruce obeyed, setting a punishing rhythm. His hips pistoned, driving his cock deep into Lena’s gripping heat with each powerful thrust. The wet slap of flesh on flesh, Lena’s ass cheeks bouncing against his thighs, filled the humid air. Lena’s cries were continuous, ragged gasps punctuated by sharp shrieks as Bruce hammered into her cervix. "Deeper! Oh god! CAMILLE! BRUCE! DON’T STOP! FUCK ME! RUIN ME!"
Camille’s fingers worked Lena’s clit furiously, her own breath coming in harsh pants against Lena’s neck. She watched Bruce’s cock disappear into Lena’s stretched, glistening pussy, the sight igniting her own core. "Look at her take it," Camille commanded Bruce, her voice thick with shared lust. "Look at your addicted slut cumming on your cock!" Lena’s body locked, a guttural roar tearing from her throat as her orgasm detonated. Her pussy clamped down on Bruce’s shaft in violent, rhythmic spasms, drenching him in her release. Bruce roared in response, the intense milking pressure shattering his control. He slammed deep, grinding his pubic bone hard against her ass, and erupted. Thick, hot jets of cum fired deep into Lena’s convulsing channel. "FILL HER!" Camille screamed, her own climax hitting as she felt Lena’s tremors and watched Bruce’s release. "BREED HER CUNT!"
They slumped together, a trembling, gasping tangle of limbs on the warm teak. Lena collapsed forward, supported only by Bruce’s arms still locked around her waist. Camille leaned heavily against her back, forehead pressed between Lena’s shoulder blades. Bruce’s softening cock slipped free from Lena’s well-used pussy with a wet, sucking sound. Cum and arousal dripped onto the decking. The scent of sex, salt, and frangipani hung heavy. Bruce’s chest heaved, the swirling colors in his eyes a deep, exhausted blend of blue and gold. Lena whimpered, a sound of utter depletion. Camille lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting Bruce’s, filled with fierce devotion and sated heat. She gently brushed sweat-damp hair from Lena’s forehead.
"Lunch," Camille stated simply, her voice raspy but firm. Lena groaned, burying her face deeper against Bruce’s chest. Bruce managed a weak chuckle, his arms tightening around both women. The distant ocean hum seemed louder now, a constant reminder of the island’s pulse, mirroring the relentless, demanding rhythm of their shared existence. Jasmine would find them soon. The afternoon’s unique blend awaited.
The afternoon’s unique blend awaited, thick as the frangipani scent clinging to their sweat-slicked skin. Bruce leaned heavily against the sun-warmed teak post, Lena a boneless weight against his chest, Camille’s steadying hand a brand on his arm. Cum and arousal cooled stickily on his thigh, on Lena’s inner legs, a testament to the frantic claiming on the deck. His muscles screamed a complex protest – Sophia’s brutal squats, Ketut’s ass, Sophia’s ride, Lena’s demanding pussy in the tub, and now Lena again, impaled and screaming under Camille’s command. His cock lay spent, a heavy, sensitive ache against Lena’s backside. Exhaustion warred with the deep, thrumming satisfaction of ownership.
"Fuck, Bruce," Lena mumbled into his pectoral, her voice muffled and utterly spent. She shifted slightly, a fresh trickle of his release escaping her swollen pussy lips to trace a warm path down his leg. "Think you broke me." Her breath hitched, a tiny aftershock trembling through her powerful thighs. Camille chuckled low, the sound vibrating against Bruce’s side.
"Only temporarily, sombra," Camille murmured, her thumb tracing the prominent vein on Bruce’s bicep. Her dark eyes, still smoldering, scanned his face. The swirling storm in his hazel irises was predominantly deep ocean blue now, exhaustion winning, but flecks of gold clung stubbornly. "Takes more than two rounds to keep our shadow down for long." She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Though watching Lena milk you dry... twice... was impressive, mi toro. Very impressive." Her tongue flicked the shell of his ear. "Left a mark."
The rhythmic crunch of footsteps on the gravel path beside the deck froze them. Jasmine emerged from a curtain of hanging orchids, the late morning sun haloing her petite frame. Her long, dark hair was loose, her simple silk robe tied loosely, revealing the swell of her small breasts. Her delicate features, usually serene, were pinched, her dark eyes wide, taking in the scene: Bruce propped against the post, Lena plastered naked against him, Camille pressed close, the scent of raw sex hanging heavy in the humid air, the glistening evidence unmistakable on skin and wood. She stopped dead.
"Well," Jasmine breathed, the single word sharp as shaved ice. Her gaze flicked from Bruce’s exhausted face, down Lena’s trembling back, to the pool of milky fluid staining the teak between Lena’s spread feet. "Orchids weren’t the only thing in bloom, I see." She crossed her arms, the movement tightening the silk across her chest. "I heard the screaming. Figured someone was being murdered." Her voice trembled, a mix of hurt and something hotter, sharper. "Guess I was half right. Murdered by cock, maybe."
Lena tensed, a low growl rumbling in her throat. She didn’t turn, just pressed harder against Bruce. "We were busy," she stated flatly, possessively. Camille’s hand tightened on Bruce’s arm, a silent command for calm. Bruce met Jasmine’s gaze. The swirling blues darkened, the gold flared briefly – guilt, possessiveness, a flicker of defensive anger.
"Jasmine," Bruce started, his voice rough. "We—"
"Save it," Jasmine cut him off, stepping closer. The scent of sex hit her more potently now – Lena’s musk, Bruce’s salt, Camille’s arousal. Her nostrils flared. Her eyes locked onto Bruce’s softening cock, glistening with Lena’s slick and his own release, nestled against the curve of Lena’s ass. A visible shiver ran through her. "I felt your energy… the need… even by the koi pond. I thought… maybe…" She trailed off, her gaze raking over his body, lingering on the smears of fluid. Her small hands clenched at her sides. "But you were clearly occupied. Thoroughly." The hurt hardened into accusation. "Again. Without me." The last words came out a strangled whisper.
Camille moved. Smoothly, deliberately, she stepped slightly away from Bruce, positioning herself between him and Jasmine, not blocking, but commanding attention. Her posture was relaxed authority, her gaze steady on the younger wife. "The need hit hard, Jasmine," Camille said, her voice calm but resonant. "Here. Now. It was… urgent." Her eyes flicked meaningfully to the damp patch on the deck. "Lena needed him. Bruce provided." She took another step towards Jasmine, her own nakedness a powerful statement. "The look on your face… it’s not just anger, is it, querida?" Camille’s voice dropped, became a low, knowing purr. "It’s hunger. You smelled it. You felt it thrumming through the compound. Bruce’s energy spilling out. Lena’s screams." Camille stopped a hand’s breadth from Jasmine. "You didn’t come looking to scold. You came looking for a taste."
Jasmine flinched, color flooding her cheeks. Her lower lip trembled. Her eyes darted past Camille to Bruce, to his spent cock, then back to Camille’s knowing stare. The defiance crumbled, replaced by raw, undeniable want. Her breath hitched. "It’s… it’s not fair," she whispered, her voice thick. "He’s… he’s empty." Her gaze clung to Bruce’s groin.
Camille reached out, her fingers gentle but firm under Jasmine’s chin, tilting her face up. "Look at him, Jasmine," Camille murmured, her thumb stroking Jasmine’s jawline. "Look past the exhaustion. See the gold still swirling? See the pulse beating in his throat?" Camille leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper Jasmine strained to hear. "He’s Bruce. He’s ours. He always rises for his wives. Especially when they ache for him." Camille’s gaze was magnetic. "He’s not empty. He’s simmering. And you…" she traced Jasmine’s lower lip, "you’re starving. I can see it."
Camille shifted her body, opening the space between herself and Bruce. She gestured subtly towards him, towards his softening cock resting against Lena’s skin. "So take a taste, Jasmine," Camille commanded softly, her voice laced with steel and dark promise. "Take what you need. Take what’s yours. Show him how deep that hunger goes."
Jasmine’s breath stopped. Her eyes, wide and dark as obsidian, locked onto Bruce’s cock. The hurt, the anger, vanished, consumed by a primal, ravenous need. The scent, Camille’s words, the image of Lena impaled – it all coalesced into a single, driving impulse. She took a jerky step forward, then another, drawn like iron to a magnet. Lena watched, a possessive tension still in her limbs, but she didn’t move, didn’t protest, understanding the shift in the air.
Jasmine sank to her knees on the damp teak decking, the cool wood a shock against her skin. Her hands trembled as she reached out, not for Bruce, but for Lena’s hip, gently urging her aside just enough. Lena shifted minutely, allowing Jasmine access. Jasmine’s gaze was fixed on the glistening junction where Bruce met Lena’s body. His cock lay half-sheathed by Lena’s ass cheek, thick, heavy, still flushed, smeared with Lena’s slick and his own thick, drying cum. It twitched weakly under her intense scrutiny.
"H-he’s so soft," Jasmine breathed, a note of awe mixed with her desperate hunger. She leaned in, her breath hot against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Her nose brushed the base of his shaft, inhaling deeply – the musk of Lena, the salt tang of Bruce, the raw, fertile scent of their coupling. A low moan escaped her. "He smells… used." Her tongue darted out, a hot pink point, and licked a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock, from his balls to the ridge of his head, collecting the mingled fluids. She shuddered, closing her eyes, savouring the complex, debauched flavour on her tongue – Lena’s arousal, Bruce’s release, the faint mineral tang of the plunge tub. "Fuck," she whimpered. "Tastes like her. Tastes like you. Tastes like… fucking."
She opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto Bruce’s face. The swirling colors in his eyes were churning violently – deep blue exhaustion battling a rising tide of gold, flecks of green possessiveness sparking. She saw the war within him. Saw the fatigue. Saw the undeniable, instinctive response her tongue had triggered. His cock, despite the battering, gave another distinct, hopeful throb against Lena’s skin.
"Not soft for long," Jasmine murmured, a fierce determination hardening her delicate features. Her hunger sharpened into a blade. She wrapped her small hand around his girth, feeling the heat, the latent power beneath the temporary softness. Her thumb swept firmly over the slick head, smearing the fluid. "You’re still hard inside, aren’t you, Bruce?" she whispered, her voice thick with need. "Hard for me. Hard because you feel me needing it. Because you owe me." She leaned forward again, her lips parted. "Let me wake it up."
Her mouth closed over the swollen head. Not tentative, not testing. Demanding. Sucking firmly, her tongue swirling over the sensitive ridge, lapping at the slit. She moaned around him, the vibration traveling straight to his core. Her free hand slid down, fingers slipping through the wetness between Lena’s legs, gathering Lena’s slick on her fingertips, then slicking it up and down Bruce’s shaft as she sucked, coating him thickly. The mingled taste – Lena’s musk, his salt, the faint remnants of his release – seemed to drive her wilder. She sucked harder, taking more of his thickening length into her mouth, her head bobbing with increasing urgency. Her fingers worked his shaft in tandem with her mouth, slick and demanding.
Bruce gasped, his head thudding back against the teak post. A shudder racked his frame. Jasmine’s mouth was a furnace, her tongue insistent, her suction relentless. "J-Jasmine…" he groaned, his hips giving an involuntary jerk. "Christ…"
"See?" Camille’s voice was a satisfied purr from beside him. She watched Jasmine’s dark head bobbing between Lena and Bruce, heard the wet, sucking sounds. "Told you he simmers." She slid her hand down Bruce’s abdomen, her touch possessive, tracing the defined ridges. "Look at him twitch. Look at him thicken. She’s drawing it right back out of him." Camille’s fingers brushed the base of his cock, just above where Jasmine’s hand and mouth worked furiously. "Feed her, Bruce. Give your newest wife the feast she craves. Show her she doesn’t need to wait." Camille’s gaze met Jasmine’s, who glanced up, her lips stretched obscenely around Bruce’s girth. "Suck it deeper, bebé," Camille commanded, her voice dropping to a low growl. "Make him hard. Make him ache. Make him give you every fucking drop he’s got left."
Jasmine moaned in response, hollowing her cheeks, taking him deeper into her throat. Bruce’s groan was pure agony and ecstasy. His hand tangled in Jasmine’s dark hair, not forcing, just holding as she worked. He felt the impossible – blood surging, heat pooling, his spent cock swelling, thickening, hardening relentlessly under her demanding mouth and fingers. The blue in his eyes was being consumed by wildfire gold, primal and fierce. Jasmine pulled back, gasping for air, a string of saliva and slick connecting her lips to his fully erect, throbbing cock. It stood rigid, glistening with her spit and Lena’s juices, a flushed, thick pillar of need. Jasmine’s eyes blazed with triumph and raw hunger. She looked up at Bruce, her chest heaving.
"Not empty," she panted, her voice ragged, victorious. Her hand gripped his shaft firmly at the base. "Not even close." She shifted her weight, her free hand pushing Lena’s hip firmly aside. Lena yielded, watching with heavy-lidded intensity. Jasmine rose slightly on her knees, her silk robe falling open completely. Her small breasts were taut, nipples hard pebbles. Her wetness glistened on her inner thighs. She guided the broad, slick head of his cock directly to her own dripping entrance. She held his gaze, the swirling gold in his eyes reflecting her own fierce desire. "Now," Jasmine breathed, her voice trembling with anticipation and command. "Fuck me with it, Bruce. Fuck me hard. Right here. Like you fucked her." She lowered herself, sinking onto his thickness with a slow, deliberate, claiming slide. "Fill my ache." Her inner walls stretched, gripped, enveloped him in molten heat. "Oh FUCK! YES! That’s it! Give it to me!"