Lars nearly face-planted over a fucking root – smooth move, stud. The world swam slightly, edges blurred by aquavit and lust. Through the silvery birch leaves, shimmering like ghosts in the weird twilight, he saw Sofia and Klara, practically draped over each other, sharing wine and secrets. Klara looked up, cheeks flushed bright pink, eyes sparkling with mischief (and probably cheap wine). Sofia just smirked, that infuriatingly hot smirk that always said, ‘I know exactly what dirty thoughts are running through your head, farm boy, and yes, you absolutely should.’
"Lars! Ditching the sausage fest already? Come join the real party!" Klara slurred charmingly, patting the moss beside her. It looked suspiciously damp. Great. Just great.
He plopped down between them with a grunt. Definitely damp. "Needed air," he mumbled, grabbing the bottle she offered without asking what it was. Wine after aquavit? Recipe for disaster, or maybe just for getting laid again. Fuck it. He took a long swig. He felt Sofia watching him, probably mentally critiquing his life choices, his shirt, his general existence. God, she was hot when she judged him.
"Tell us dirty stories, Lars!" Klara demanded, leaning her surprisingly solid weight against his side. Her hand landed squarely on his inner thigh, way, way too close to Comfort-and-Joy for polite company. He tensed, glancing sideways at Sofia. Oh yeah, that glint in her eye was pure challenge. The beautiful bitch.
Klara, playing innocent or maybe just genuinely hammered, nuzzled his ear, whispering something about needing help finding a moose later. Her lips brushed his skin, sending shivers down his spine, and her hand started tracing lazy circles, dangerously close to his zipper. He felt himself swell instantly, pressing hard against the unforgiving denim. Subtle, Klara. Real subtle.
Sofia leaned in from his other side, her cool fingers tracing his jawline, making him shiver for a different reason. "Don’t let the tourist have all the fun, Lars," she murmured, her voice pure husky invitation, sending a jolt straight to his already aching groin. Fuck. The air crackled, thick with unspoken promises and cheap wine fumes. Game on.
Then Klara, possibly taking Sofia’s words as a signal, or maybe just because she felt like it, launched herself at Sofia, planting a kiss that was more enthusiasm than technique, all teeth and tongue. Lars stared, jaw slack, as Sofia, after a blink of surprise, melted into it, tongues immediately tangling in a wet, sloppy battle for dominance. Holy. Shit. Girl-on-girl action, right here in the mossy woods. Best Midsummer ever? Probably.
Watching them swap spit, Klara’s hand still making exploratory missions near his fly, sent a fresh wave of raw lust crashing through Lars. Sofia broke the kiss, eyes finding Lars’s over Klara’s shoulder. She grabbed his hand – the one not currently holding the wine bottle – and decisively shoved it onto Klara’s breast. It felt surprisingly firm under the thin, slightly damp cotton of her sundress – had she spilled wine, or was that just sweat? Didn’t matter. Klara gasped into Sofia’s mouth, arching her back like a cat, pushing her nipple harder against his palm.
Before Lars could process that, Sofia’s other hand tangled roughly in his hair, yanking his head down for a bruising kiss. Her tongue plunged into his mouth – tasting of wine, Klara’s spit, and pure female dominance. He felt Klara squirming against him, her hand now frantically rubbing his bulge through his jeans, trying to get a better grip. Yes, please. Keep doing that.
Sofia deepened the kiss, her free hand ripping open his shirt buttons like she was unwrapping a particularly stubborn present. Fingers mapped his chest, scraping lightly over the hair, then moved lower, popping his jeans button with an audible snap, yanking down the zipper with zero finesse. Klara abandoned his neck, leaving a wet trail of saliva, her hand joining Sofia’s, both fumbling greedily to free his cock. A tag team effort he could definitely get behind. Or between.
He groaned as they finally wrestled him out. His thick cock sprang free, rock hard, painfully stiff, and already dripping slick precum onto his jeans. Klara gasped dramatically. "Wow! He is huge! Anders wasn’t kidding! Can I touch it?"
Sofia just chuckled against Lars’s mouth. "Someone’s definitely happy to see us. Such a show-off." She pulled back from the kiss, eyes dark with lust.
Klara reached for him first, wrapping hesitant, slightly sticky fingers around his shaft. Sofia guided her hand, murmuring instructions like a patient teacher. "Like this, see? Slow down… wrap your fingers tighter… yeah, feel how thick he is?" Lars groaned as Klara’s grip tightened, her rhythm becoming more confident, less jerky, under Sofia’s tutelage. Then Sofia’s hand joined Klara’s, one slick fist pumping his shaft firmly, the other teasing the sensitive, swollen head with thumb and forefinger until he thought he’d lose his fucking mind right there.
Lars leaned back against the rough bark of the birch tree, surrendering completely. He watched them through heavy lids, the world tilting slightly. Klara, flushed and panting, utterly focused, tongue poking out slightly between her lips in concentration – adorable and incredibly hot. Sofia, sultry and completely in control, eyes locked with Lars’s, a silent, filthy conversation passing between them: You’re ours now.
Sofia whispered something to Klara, who nodded eagerly. Klara lowered her head, lips brushing his cock head tentatively, like she was afraid it might bite. A quick glance up at Sofia for reassurance, then she took the thick, purple head into her mouth. Definitely a beginner – teeth bumped awkwardly, rhythm was all over the place – but her sheer enthusiasm, the way she slurped and sucked with such determination, was infectious. Lars hissed through his teeth, digging his fingers into the damp moss, trying to ground himself.
Sofia watched them for a beat, a possessive smirk playing on her lips, before attacking Lars’s torso again. Her mouth trailed fire across his chest, tongue flicking expertly over his nipples until they ached and throbbed. Her hands roamed, pinching his waist, squeezing his biceps, exploring every inch of skin she could reach.
"My turn, little bird," Sofia murmured, gently nudging Klara aside. Klara sat back, eyes wide and glazed, looking slightly dazed, a string of spit connecting her lip to Lars’s cock. Sofia expertly took Lars deep into her throat in one smooth motion. Fuck, the woman was a goddess. The tight suction, the swirling tongue-work, the complete lack of gag reflex as she bobbed her head relentlessly… Lars groaned loudly, hips bucking helplessly off the ground, trying to fuck her face.
Sofia pulled back, lips glistening, leaving his cock throbbing and dripping. "Klara," she commanded softly, gesturing to herself. "Undress me. Slowly. And try not to rip it, it’s linen." Klara scrambled to obey, fingers fumbling with the tiny buttons on Sofia’s slightly sheer, forest-green linen dress. Sofia, meanwhile, grabbed Lars’s hand and shoved it between her legs. Even through her panties – black lace, holy shit – she was soaking wet, slick and hot, her cunt muscles clenching desperately around his probing fingers. Double fuck.
Klara finally got the dress unbuttoned and slid it down Sofia’s shoulders, revealing full, heavy breasts barely contained by a matching black lace bra. Sofia moaned as Klara immediately latched onto one nipple through the lace, sucking greedily, her mouth hot and wet. Sofia’s head fell back against Lars’s shoulder, mouth finding his ear. "Fuck, Lars… finger my clit harder… make me cum," she breathed, her voice ragged.
He obeyed instantly, sliding his fingers under the flimsy lace edge of her thong (a thong! Of course!), finding her slick folds, her clit already swollen and throbbing like a trapped bird. She cried out, a raw sound of pure pleasure, as he circled the sensitive nub, pressing down hard, grinding it against her pubic bone. Klara moved from Sofia’s breast, her hands now exploring Sofia’s body, tracing the lines of her bra, fingers dipping below the waistband of the thong at the back, mapping the curve of her arse. Sofia went back to work on Lars’s cock, sucking and licking like it was the last cock on earth, occasionally scraping her teeth lightly along the shaft, driving him wild.
The scene was pure, glorious chaos. Sweat, spit, precum, tangled limbs, wet sucking sounds, moans echoing softly in the twilight birch grove. Lars felt Klara’s fingers replace his, clumsily but eagerly exploring Sofia’s wet cunt, sliding easily into her slick heat. Sofia gasped, her rhythm on his cock faltering for a second before resuming with even greater intensity. "Yes, Klara, right there! Fuck me with your fingers!"
Lars reached out, grabbing Klara, pulling her into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tasting Sofia’s cunt juice on her tongue. His other hand found Sofia’s lace-covered breast, kneading the soft flesh, rolling the hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she whimpered. Sofia moaned, torn between Klara’s enthusiastic fingering and Lars’s expert touch, her head thrashing slightly.
"Lars… please… I need you inside me… need your cock… now!" Sofia gasped, pulling away from his cock, eyes wild and unfocused. She pushed Klara gently onto her back on the moss, yanking the thong aside impatiently, spreading her legs wide, exposing her glistening, swollen folds. Sofia positioned herself over Klara, straddling her hips, kissing her deeply before looking back at Lars, beckoning him with feral eyes. "Fuck me, Lars. Fuck us both. Pound my cunt until I scream. Make the ground shake."
He didn’t need telling twice. He surged forward on his knees, positioning the head of his thick cock at Sofia’s slick entrance. She was so wet, so ready for him, practically dripping onto Klara below. He pushed in slowly at first, feeling her tight cunt clench fiercely around him like a velvet fist. Sofia cried out, back arching dramatically off Klara’s body, nails digging painfully into his hips. Klara, trapped beneath Sofia but clearly not complaining, reached up, hands clawing at Lars’s back, pulling him deeper into Sofia’s heat.
He found a hard, driving rhythm, slamming into her again and again. Sofia met his thrusts, eyes locked with his, screaming his name, a litany of pleasure and shared history and pure fucking lust. He felt Klara writhing beneath them, her hands now sliding between their grinding bodies, finding Sofia’s clit again, rubbing frantically. Sofia screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure ecstasy as her orgasm ripped through her, her inner muscles milking Lars’s cock relentlessly, trying to drain him dry. "Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder! Don’t stop!"
The sight of Sofia coming apart on his cock, her face contorted in pleasure, combined with Klara’s frantic fingering below, sent Lars over the edge. With a final, guttural roar that echoed through the silent trees, he slammed into Sofia one last time, shooting his load deep inside her hot, clenching cunt, collapsing onto her sweat-slick body, Klara still pinned somewhere beneath their combined weight, probably getting covered in cum.
They lay in a panting, sticky heap for what felt like hours. Eventually, Klara wriggled out, hair full of moss and leaves, grinning like the cat that got the cream (and the cock, and the cunt). Sofia lazily stroked Lars’s hair, her breathing evening out, a smug, satisfied look on her face. The birch grove felt silent, sacred almost, except for the buzzing in Lars’s ears and the faint sound of Klara asking if anyone had seen her other shoe. Another layer peeled back, another complication added, another ridiculously hot memory burned into his brain forever. Midsummer in Sweden, apparently, was not for the faint of heart. Or the monogamous. Or the easily embarrassed.
