Chapter 9: Continued Pleasure
Evie swam back to consciousness through layers of thick, syrupy sensation. Her body was a map of aches—a deep, throbbing tenderness between her legs, a raw scrape in her throat, a fiery awareness in her ass that felt permanently stretched. The carpet fibers itched her cheek. The neon from the window bathed everything in a sickly pink glow.
The sounds reached her next. A rhythmic, wet slapping. Sharp, high-pitched gasps that broke into giggles. A low, continuous grunt of effort.
She lifted her head.
On the sunken couch, Darius moved with the relentless piston-drive of a machine. Beneath him, Tiff was a riot of bouncing flesh. Her obnoxiously large fake tits jiggled wildly with each impact, her nails scrabbling at his tattooed back. Her head was thrown back over the armrest, a string of spit connecting her lower lip to her chin. “Fuck! Yeah, just like that, D! Ruin this pussy!” she shrieked, her voice cracking with pitchy euphoria.
Darius’s hand was fisted in her blonde hair, holding her head still as he drove into her. His sweat-slicked back gleamed in the neon.
Evie watched, her mouth agape. A strange, hollow feeling yawned inside her, but it wasn’t jealousy. It was… yearning. A need to be part of that raw, noisy circuit of flesh.
As if sensing her wakefulness, Darius’s dark eyes cut sideways, locking onto hers mid-thrust. He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow. A smirk twisted his lips.
“Sleeping Beauty’s up,” he grunted, the words punched out in time with his hips. “Get your ass over here. You got a job to do.”
Tiff’s glassy eyes rolled towards Evie. “C’mon, bestie!” she panted, a wide, dazed smile on her face. “Don’t be shy!”
Evie pushed herself up. Her legs trembled, a messy combination of come and lube slicking her inner thighs. She stumbled the few feet to the couch, her heels catching on the carpet. She stood there, unsure, her hands fluttering nervously.
Darius finally stilled, buried deep inside Tiff, who whined at the loss of momentum. He turned his head, his gaze dropping meaningfully to his own lower back, then back to Evie. “Clean me up, sissy. Use that tongue. Show me you know your place.”
Understanding dawned, hot and shameful. He wanted her to rim him. While he was still plugged inside Tiff.
A final, ghostly wisp of Ed Finch screamed in the back of her skull. This was too much. It was degrading.
But the screaming ghost was faint. The aching, used emptiness in her own body was loud. The sight of Tiff’s blissful, stupid expression was compelling. Evie wanted to wear that look.
She dropped to her knees behind the couch, her face level with Darius’s lower back and the muscular curves of his ass. The smell was intensely musky, earthy. She hesitated for only a second before leaning in, pressing her open mouth against his skin.
She licked a broad, sloppy stripe from his tailbone down. Salt, sweat, the faint, intriguing tang of Tiff’s arousal transferred from his thrusts. She heard Tiff giggle breathlessly. “That’s it, Evie! Get him all nice and clean for me!”
Encouraged, Evie dove in with a desperate earnestness. She lapped at him, her tongue probing the tight, clenched ring of muscle. She serviced him with a focus she’d never applied to her coding homework, her nose buried in the cleft of his ass, her world shrinking to taste and texture and the low, approving groans from above.
“Good bitch,” Darius rumbled, and began moving inside Tiff again, his hips rocking back into Evie’s face with each forward drive.
Evie clung on, licking and sucking, lost in the obscene rhythm. She was a accessory, a living wet-wipe, and the clarity of that purpose was perversely freeing.
When Darius finally pulled out of Tiff with a guttural shout, Tiff immediately slid bonelessly off the couch onto the floor, a puddle of giggling satisfaction. Darius turned, his cock slick and glistening, and looked at the two women at his feet.
“Double time,” he said, his voice rough. “On your knees. Together.”
They scrambled into position side-by-side, Tiff and Evie, a matched set of eager ruin. Tiff, practiced and enthusiastic, took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the crown. Evie, mimicking her, leaned in and began licking and kissing the thick shaft, coating it with fresh saliva.
“Yeah, just like that, bestie,” Tiff slurped, pulling off for a second. “Teamwork.” She went back down, taking him deep until her fake lashes fluttered against his pubic bone. Evie focused on the heavy balls, cupping them, rolling them in her hand before sucking one gently into her mouth.
Darius watched them, a king with two devoted subjects. He guided their heads, not gently, pushing them together so their cheeks touched, their lips sliding over the same slick skin. “Look at you two dumb bitches,” he breathed. “Pretty little cock sleeves.”
The night dissolved into a sweaty, sticky montage of use. He bent Tiff over the kitchen counter and took her from behind, her shrieks echoing off the linoleum, while he fed his cock to Evie’s waiting mouth between thrusts. He laid on his back and made Evie ride him, her large, round ass bouncing clumsily at first, then with a growing, instinctive grind, while Tiff knelt by his head, feeding her own tits into his mouth.
“Twerk that ass for him, Evie!” Tiff encouraged, slapping Evie’s jiggling cheek. “Make it clap!” Evie, breathless, obeyed, shifting her weight, feeling the muscles burn as she tried to bounce and rotate on the monstrous intrusion inside her. The slap of her flesh against his thighs joined the chorus of filthy sounds.
He took them to the edge of the messy, nasty climax the synopsis promised. After pulling out of Evie’s ass, he held his dripping cock to her lips. “Clean it,” he ordered. She did, tasting herself and him, a salty, bitter mix, before he shoved it back into her, the violation of ‘ass to mouth’ complete and unchallenged.
Later, as he finished inside Tiff for what felt like the tenth time, he withdrew and immediately pushed his softened, cum-smeared length against Evie’s lips. She opened without thought, swallowing the bitter, lukewarm proof of his time with her best friend.
As dawn’s grey light began to fight the neon, they were a tangled heap on the stained mattress. Darius was snoring, an arm thrown over his face. Tiff was curled into his side, snuffling quietly.
Evie lay on her back, staring at a water stain on the ceiling. She felt wrecked, hollowed out, and strangely peaceful. A deep, internal rumble built in her gut, a pressure from all that had been pumped into her. She shifted slightly, and a soft, wet fart escaped her sore hole, a faint, bubbly sound followed by a trickle of warm leakage onto the sheet.
Tiff’s eyes fluttered open. She heard it. She smelled it. She didn’t recoil.
Instead, she smiled a sleepy, conspiratorial smile and reached across Darius’s chest to pat Evie’s hand. “Sissy stuff, bestie,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “It happens.”
Evie looked from their joined hands to Tiff’s understanding, empty-eyed smile. The last barrier within her crumbled. She wasn’t Ed. Ed would have died of shame. Evie just felt… relatable. Understood.
She squeezed Tiff’s hand back, a weak, grateful pressure. A dumb bimbo bestie, connected not by shared classes or interests, but by the shared, messy, gaping experience of the same monstrous cock. She closed her eyes, the soreness a badge, the leaking a lullaby. She was home.