Liz kissed me like she had all the time in the world. Her hand drifted up my side, brushing over the curve of my breast, her fingers stroking softly across my nipple until I gasped into her mouth.

She smiled against my lips and kissed me harder. And then her hand moved lower.

She didn’t go straight for it. She wasn’t rushing. Just a slow glide down my stomach, across my hip, pausing at the waistband of my leggings. Her fingers toyed there, playing, asking.

I nodded.

Her hand slipped past the band, warm delicate fingers tracing gently between my thighs. I jumped a little and she pulled back just slightly, just enough to breathe against my neck. “Okay?” she whispered.

I swallowed. “Yes. Just… nervous.”

She kissed my throat once, twice, then let her fingers dip lower. Soft strokes at first teasing, testing. My legs parted instinctively, and I felt her smile against my skin.

Then she found me.

And her fingers slipped through my labia, sensitive and soaked from watchig.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “You’re already so ready for me.”

I moaned. Quietly. Embarrassed. Her fingers moved slow and sure, stroking me with maddening care, each pass sending a fresh ripple of heat through me, uncoiling something that had been locked up tighter than I’d realized.

She didn’t rush.

Her hand moved with patience, and for the first time in my life I was letting another woman open me up.

My breath caught again as Liz’s fingers worked inside me. slow, sure, circling in a rhythm that made my hips rock up against her hand. The heat in my stomach was rising fast now, my body humming with a need that felt new but somehow deeply familiar.

She kissed me again, slower now, lips softer, like she was giving me time to feel it all. And I did. Every brush, every curl of her fingers, every tiny moan that slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

But I didn’t want to just take. I wanted to experience all of this.

My hand slid down her side, over her soft curves, then between her thighs. She opened for me instantly like she’d been waiting.

She was wet. Hot. Velvet-slick and ready.

Her breath hitched as my fingers brushed over her, and her own rhythm on me faltered for a second, just long enough for her to whisper, “Yes, Katie. Touch me, just like that.”

Carefully at first, fingers gliding over her with slow strokes that mimicked her own, watching how she moved, how she reacted. Her body was poetry, responsive, generous, unguarded. She moaned into my mouth, hips grinding down against my hand as she curled her fingers deeper into me, pushing us both closer.

Now we were moving together.

Breathless.

Tangled.

Hands between each other’s legs, mouths too occupied to talk, moans building in volume and urgency. Our thighs were pressed together, bodies rocking in sync, breasts pressed against each other, nipples brushing each other and sending sparks through us both. 

Liz’s forehead dropped against mine, her breath ragged.

“Fuck, Katie,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You feel so good.”

I kissed her hard and pushed deeper, finding the rhythm, fingers stroking just the way hers had. She gasped, eyes fluttering, and I felt her clench around me, tight, pulsing, desperate.

We were both close.

So close.

And neither of us wanted to stop.

I was lost in Liz.

In the way her lips moved over mine, the way her body arched into my touch, the steady, sinful rhythm of her fingers stroking me just right. Everything had narrowed to her, her breath, her voice, her hands she was all I could feel.

And then I heard it.

Movement below us.

A low, familiar groan. A wet slap of bodies meeting.

I cracked my eyes open and turned my head just enough to see them.

Sean and Bex.

They’d repositioned. Bex now flat on her back, legs wrapped around my husband’s waist. Sean hovered over her, driving into her with hard, purposeful thrusts. His back was taut with effort, muscles straining, and Bex’s nails raked lightly down his sides as she moaned and writhed beneath him, her head tossing from side to side.

And that was it.

The sight of it, my husband, fucking the gorgeous wife of the sensational woman currently buried knuckle-deep inside me, hit me like a shockwave.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, breath hitching.

Liz didn’t stop. She felt it too the way my hips jerked, the way I trembled against her. Her lips brushed my neck, her fingers curling just so, and I came.

Hard.

It hit fast, faster than I was ready for. My body locked up around her hand, every nerve burning with pleasure. A shudder rolled through me, deep and unstoppable, my mouth dropping open in a soundless cry as the orgasm ripped through me, hot and exquisite and perfect.

My pulse was still racing from the orgasm, my thighs trembling, my skin oversensitive, my head spinning from the rush. But Liz was still close, her breath warm against my cheek, her fingers gently retreating from between my legs, soaked and shining in the low light.

She looked proud. A little smug. And stunning.

I wanted to return the favor. I wanted to make her feel the way she’d just made me feel. I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her neck, then another, lower, as my hands slid up her body, her skin was soft under my palms, her breath catching the moment I kissed the swell of her breast.

She let out the quietest, breathiest “Yes.”

I shifted lower, sliding down between her legs, settling on the sofa like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her thighs parted for me without hesitation, and I kissed up one, then the other, my hands bracing gently at her hips.

My head was full of memory of that night months ago, of what Nick had done to me. Of how his tongue had moved, what had made me moan, cry out, lose control. The best oral I had ever had.

I wanted to give her that.

So I did everything I remembered loving.

Slow, teasing kisses. Gentle exploration. A rhythm that built patiently, listening with my mouth to every little sound she made, every breath that caught, every shift of her hips.

Liz’s hand found my hair, not pushing, just resting there, like a quiet encouragement.

“Just like that,” she murmured. “God, Katie!” she said crying out as my tongue flicked over her clit.

She arched against me, her thighs tightening slightly, a gasp escaping her lips that made me press in deeper, searching for that perfect rhythm, that edge she hadn’t quite reached yet.

I could feel her response in every breath, every moan, every flex of her thighs around me. Her hand was in my hair now, guiding me gently, her hips beginning to roll in time with my mouth.

Then from the floor, just a few feet away we heard Bex.

Her cry started low, a guttural moan that turned sharp as it crested. Her legs thudded against the floor, a hand slapped something soft, and then “FUCK YES! YES YES YEEESSS!”

Her scream filled the room, wild and beautiful, echoing off the walls like a declaration. I didn’t look. I didn’t need to. I felt it ripple through me like aftershock. I could hear Sean thrusting through her orgasm, slowing down as she came down from her peak.

I heard him stop and I looked up from between Liz’s legs just in time to see her reach out, hand catching Sean’s wrist as he staggered back, stunned and grinning at Bex laying on the floor panting and grinning.

Her fingers wrapped around his cock, still flushed, still hard.

And then she pulled him toward us.

She didn’t even change her position, just leaned her head back slightly, guiding him in, lips parting as she took him into her mouth with practiced ease.

And then she started to matched me.

Her head bobbed in rhythm with mine. Her hand gripped his base in sync with the rhythm of my tongue. It was like we were two halves of the same act, me buried between her thighs, her wrapped around his cock, both of us giving, both of us taking.

It was surreal. Erotic. Powerful.

And from where I was, I could see everything, framed by her luscious breasts, his hands in her hair, her lips around him, his eyes locked on hers as I devoured her.

It felt like I was touching him through her. Sean’s low groans. Liz’s wet, breathy moans around him. The soft, rhythmic slap of skin. My own breath ragged as I stayed locked between Liz’s legs, letting instinct and need take over. 

My tongue moved in time with her mouth on Sean, and I could feel every ripple of pleasure flow through her. The little gasps when I circled just right. The tremble in her thighs. The way her hand would tighten on his hip just as her body pulsed against my mouth.

Sean was groaning louder now. Deep, uneven sounds from the back of his throat. I glanced up just enough to see his hand tighten in Liz’s hair as she bobbed faster, more eager, her other hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking what her mouth didn’t reach.

And then I felt it.

Liz’s legs began to tremble. Her hips jerked forward. She gasped against Sean’s length, then moaned onto him a muffled, guttural sound that vibrated through him, through me.

I pressed harder, deeper, as I worked her with everything I had. My face was slick, my jaw was aching, but I didn’t care.

Liz cried out. Her body arched.

“Fuck,” Sean choked. “I’m gonna!”

I felt her thighs clamp around my head as she came, a rolling, gasping climax that shook through her like a storm. Just as Seans hips jerked forward once, twice, and then he groaned, spilling loads of thick cum into Liz’s mouth, his whole body shaking as she took him.

I sat back, chest heaving, watching them both collapse into each other Liz sagging against his thigh, Sean half-folded over her, still trying to catch his breath.

Sean flopped onto the sofa, eyes half-closed, breathing like he’d just finished a marathon. Liz stretched beside him, drowsy and glowing, a lazy smile playing on her lips.

But my gaze was still on Bex.

She was sitting back on her heels, abs slick with sweat, her chest rising and falling slowly. Sharp jawline, flushed skin, short hair damp at the edges. She looked like a sculpted statue, except for the heat in her eyes when she caught me staring.

“What?” she asked, already smirking.

“You,” I breathed. “I never got to have any fun with you”

She reached out, took my wrist, and tugged me toward her, firm but unhurried. Her touch said I’ve been waiting, too.

She pulled me down onto the floor, straddling one of my thighs, and leaned in to kiss me. It was deeper than I expected. Hungrier. Despite her recent orgasm. 

Her skin was hot, slick, and alive, all taut curves and lean muscle, the sharp cut of her stomach shifting with every breath. Her hand slid up to cup my breast, thumb brushing across the sensitive peak until I moaned into her, my back arching on instinct.

She slid her hands down my back, gripping my ass, pulling our hips flush. Our slick skin met, and she rolled her hips once, slowly, grinding against me.

Without a word, she shifted us both lower, lining our bodies perfectly. Thighs slotted. Hips angled. Wet hot slit against wet hot slit. She grabbed my leg and hooked it higher around her, locking us together.

And then we started to move.

A slow roll at first, her hips tilting forward, mine answering in kind. We slid against each other with growing urgency, the friction sharp and electric. Every pass left a trail of heat that built, layered, echoed. It wasn’t just touch,  it was rhythm. A pulse. Something deeper than sensation.

Her thigh pressed firmly between mine. I ground into it helplessly, chasing the tension that bloomed with every rock of our hips. Wet skin on wet skin. Slippery, burning, perfect. My body lit up, trembling, responsive, needy, every nerve leaning toward her.

She dipped her head, kissing down my neck, across my chest, her mouth catching one breast, then the other, sucking gently, her tongue flicking and circling until I cried out. I clung to her shoulders, as I moved harder, faster, needing more.

She pushed up, bracing herself above me, and began to ride, slow grinding arcs that slid our centers together in dizzying rhythm. Each movement made my breath catch, each press of her body against mine left me slicker, hotter, closer.

Bex began running her hands down my back and then across my ass. Her fingers dug into my flesh, pulling me closer as we ground our hips together. The friction between us was intense, each stroke bringing us closer to climax. We were sweating, our breath coming fast and hard. Our panting echoed through the room, punctuated by soft moans and gasps of pleasure.

We were tangled, legs hooked, torsos pressed, hands roaming and greedy. Her mouth found mine again, swallowing my moans as my body started to shake beneath her.

Pressure coiled low and tight, every stroke pushing me closer to the edge. She was relentless steady, controlled, letting me fall apart one slow drag at a time.

When we came, it was together, hips grinding desperately, bodies trembling, thighs soaked and shaking. I buried my face in her neck, gasping as she held me, her breath ragged against my ear.

We stayed tangled like that, sticky, breathless, laughing quietly as the afterglow finally pulled us under.

The room had gone still.

The storm had passed, leaving the space heavy with warmth and sweat and breath. The air was thick with the scent of sex. We’d all found our way back to our partners.

Bex curled against Liz on the couch, her head tucked into the crook of her wife’s neck, one hand lazily stroking her thigh. Liz’s lips brushed her forehead, their whispered conversation barely audible under the hum of stillness.

On the floor, Sean and I lay stretched out together, his chest against my back, one arm slung possessively around my waist. His breath was slow, even. But he wasn’t asleep.

Neither of us were.

I turned just enough to look at him over my shoulder.

His hair was a mess. His skin gleamed faintly in the dim light. And he looked at me like I’d hung the moon.

“Well,” I murmured, voice raspy, “you did well, multiple satisfied women. I’d call that a very good job, stud.”

“It was tough” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. 

“Aww poor baby, was it hard having too many women throwing themselves at you?” I said, grinning.

“Somehow I didn’t die of happiness,” he muttered. “That alone is impressive.”

I let the silence stretch for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Was it too much? I just wanted to pay you back for what I did with the others.”

He shifted closer, pulling me tighter against him.

“No,” he said softly. “It was hot. Wild. But also weirdly right? As if we should have been doing this every movie night.”

I smiled.

“I felt that too.”

We both looked over to the couch, where Liz and Bex had shifted into a soft, sleepy knot of arms and legs. Bex was murmuring something that made Liz laugh gently, her hand brushing back her wife’s hair as she kissed her temple.

There was a pause. “You were incredible, Katie,” he whispered. “Watching you like that touching Liz. I’ll never get that image out of my head.”

I leaned back into him, full of that delicious ache, that fullness no orgasm could quite explain.

“I didn’t know I had it in me,” I murmured.

“You definitely did,” he said with a quiet laugh. “And now I’m terrified of what you’ll plan next.”

I smirked, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Good.”

And with that, we curled tighter into each other, four people, two couples, one shared, unforgettable night, and let the stillness hold us as we drifted into the most satisfied sleep of our lives.