I press the doorbell, hear the buzzing in the hallway, and push open the heavy door. My pulse races, but not from nervousness. It’s that anticipation that’s been with me all day. The message came three hours ago: “Hey, up for a round of poker? There are two of us.” Two women. Friends. A match I never expected. My cock twitches in my pants just at the thought of what might happen.
The apartment is on the third floor. When I get upstairs, the door is already slightly ajar. Warm light falls on the carpet. I press the handle and step inside. The hallway smells of vanilla and fresh laundry. From the living room, I hear soft music, something with a bass that vibrates in my lower belly.
“Come in, we’re here!” The voice is bright, almost cheeky. I follow it. Two women sit on a velvet sofa, a coffee table full of glasses and chips. One is tall, slim, with short blonde hair and a saucy grin – Lina, as I later learn. The other is small, curvy, dark curls framing her face, lips painted red – Mira. Both wear loose T-shirts and jogging pants, but their looks are anything but casual. They eye me up and down, lingering on my crotch. My cock grows harder, pressing against the fabric.
“Well, did you bring your poker chips?” Lina laughs and points to a stack of chips beside her. I sit in the armchair across from them. “Don’t worry, I’m more of a bluffer.” Mira pours me a whiskey without asking. “Then you fit right in with us.” She winks, and I feel her tongue glide over her lips, slow, deliberate.
The first hour passes with small talk and a few rounds of poker. I lose on purpose because their looks say more than any card. Lina leans back, her T-shirt rides up, a strip of bare belly. Her breasts show through the thin fabric, nipples hard. Mira pulls her legs up, her jogging pants stretching over her thighs, I see the crease of her cunt through the material. The air grows heavier, the whiskey warms my throat, and my cock throbs impatiently.
At some point, Mira lays down her cards. “Okay, this is boring. I have an idea.” She looks at Lina, then at me. “Truth or dare? But for real.” Lina grins. “What do you have in mind?” Mira shrugs. “We play as three. Everyone has to do a round. Whoever refuses loses. The winner decides the next move.” Her gaze is dark, full of promises.
My palms sweat. I raise my glass. “I’m in.” My cock is rock hard now, the tip pressing against the zipper. I can barely sit still.
Mira starts. She turns to Lina. “Truth: Have you ever done anything with a woman?” Lina laughs loudly. “Sure, last year at a party. But I was drunk. I licked a friend until she screamed.” She looks at me, her eyes sparkling. “And you? Truth or dare?” I choose dare. Lina grins wickedly. “Then take off your T-shirt and kiss Mira on the neck.”
My pulse hammers. I stand up, pull the shirt over my head. My chest is bare, muscles tense. Mira leans back on the sofa, her gaze dark, her hand slowly gliding over her thigh. I bend over her, place a hand on the armrest. My mouth approaches her neck, I smell a perfume with bergamot, mixed with the sweet scent of her arousal. My lips touch her skin, gentle at first, then firmer. I suck on her carotid artery, bite lightly. She breathes faster, her hand grabs my hair, pulls me closer. I lick the sweat from her skin, which tastes salty. She moans softly, her head falls to the side, giving me more room. My tongue travels to her earlobe, I bite into it, and she shivers.
“Well done,” Mira whispers hoarsely. She turns her head, her lips brush mine. A short, electrifying kiss, then it deepens. Her tongue enters my mouth, demanding, exploring. I taste whiskey and her greed. She pushes me away, but her hand stays on my chest. “Your turn, Lina. Truth or dare?” Lina thinks, her fingers playing with the hem of her T-shirt. “Dare.” Mira points at me. “Undress him. The pants. Slowly.”
Lina stands up, comes toward me. Her hips sway, the jogging pants stretch over her ass. She kneels in front of me, her fingers fiddle with the button of my jeans, pull the zipper down. The sound is loud in the room. The pants fall to the floor. She rubs her cheek against my erect cock through the fabric of my boxers. I feel her hot breath through the thin material. “Beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse with lust. She pulls the shorts down with her teeth, slowly, inch by inch. My cock springs free, slaps against her mouth. The tip is dark red, glistening with excitement. She licks once over the tip, slowly, her tongue firm and rough. A shiver runs down my spine. She takes the head in her mouth, sucks gently, her tongue circling the most sensitive spot. I moan softly, my hands clench into fists.
Mira laughs softly. “Don’t let him come too early. We have more planned.” Lina straightens up, wipes her mouth, a thread of saliva connecting her lips to my cock. “Sit back down. My turn.” She sits on the sofa, spreads her legs wide. Her jogging pants are wet, a dark stain on the fabric. She pulls them off, tosses them aside. Her panties are black, see-through, the labia visible, moist and swollen. “Come here, Mira. Show me what you can do.”
Mira slides over to her, their mouths meet. It’s not a tender kiss, but demanding, hungry. Tongues battle, lips suck. Mira pushes Lina’s T-shirt up, her breasts come into view – firm, with light nipples that are hard as little stones. She bends down, takes one in her mouth. She sucks loudly, her tongue whipping over the tip. Lina moans loudly, her head falls back, her hands dig into Mira’s hair. “Yes, harder,” she pants. Mira switches to the other breast, bites lightly into the hard tip. Lina cries out, her body trembles.
I watch, my cock throbbing, my hand wrapped around it, but I don’t want to come, not alone. I stroke the wet tip, a drop of pre-cum oozes out. I lick it away, the taste salty and sweet.
They switch positions, Lina pulls off Mira’s jogging pants, the panties underneath are black and dripping wet. The fabric clings to her slit, I see the moist lips through the thin material. Lina dives headfirst between her legs, pushes the panties aside. I hear a sucking sound as her tongue enters Mira’s cunt.
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