Claire: Ramya stays for a BBC threesome

The second the bathroom door clicks shut, I close the distance between us. Demarcus is still watching the hallway where Ramya disappeared, that thick, perfect ass in booty shorts burned into both our minds. I reach under the waistband of his jeans, wrap my fingers around his cock, and find him already hard.

He throbs in my hand.

“I want to watch you fuck her,” I say quietly.

His eyes snap to mine. He doesn’t pull away, but his brows lift. “She just said she doesn’t fuck Black guys.”

“She doesn’t fuck anyone. She’s still a virgin." I give him a slow stroke, feeling him thicken against my palm. "Pussy virgin. It’s cultural. She loves sucking dick, she’ll take it in the ass if she likes you enough, but she won’t let a cock inside her cunt. Good Indian girls save that for marriage.”

Demarcus stares at me. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious. She never lets me put more than one finger in her. She’s guarding an intact hymen. She’s so fucking tight it’s unreal.” I look up at him, serious now. “So when it happens, she’s going to bleed. Be respectful. I want her first time to be good.”

He lets out a low breath. “Claire… I’m huge. She’s not going to pick the biggest dick she’s ever seen for her first time. She’ll want someone normal.”

He’s leaking precome against my fingers now. I grin and give him a slow stroke.

“Imagine those long legs wrapped around you. Big MILF jugs bouncing. Tight virgin pussy gripping your cock. You want to fuck her, don’t you?” I tilt my head, still smiling. “It’s okay. You can admit it.”

“Hell yeah I do. Especially if you want me to."

“And I do, so let’s make it happen.” I squeeze him again, slower. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But I know her. You’re worthy. You’re powerful. If you were average she’d just pass and keep waiting. She’ll want to fuck you. Trust me. And you’re a good lover. You’ll work it in slow. It’ll hurt less with your big dick than with some Indian who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Demarcus searches my face. I can see the hunger fighting with caution. "What's the plan?"

“She’s showering here,” I continue, voice soft. “That means part of her already wants to stay, even if she won’t admit it yet. She's horny all the time and is ready to give up on waiting for marriage. Just don’t push her. We take our time. Let her come to us. And we use condoms so she feels safe. She’ll pop. She’s ready.”

The water shuts off.

"And don't make fun of her still being a virgin even though she's done butt stuff. I think it's cool."

Demarcus grins. "Why would I mock her? I get to break in a virgin."

"Exactly," I say, happy we are on the same page. Ramya is about to have the most fun of her life!

A few minutes later the bathroom door opens.

Ramya steps into the kitchen wearing one of my satin robes. The material is thin, the color a deep soft pink that looks richer against her golden-brown skin. It’s long enough to be decent, but the way the fabric moves gives her away. Her heavier breasts shift and settle with every step, their natural hang showing under the robe, soft and full from the weight she lost. She left her hair to dry in the high ponytail from the gym.

She looks younger without makeup. Clear skin, dark eyes, that soft mouth. Naturally beautiful in a way that always hits me harder than when she’s done up.

For a second none of us speak. Ramya's fingers tighten the robe's belt.

“Told you they were real,” I say to Demarcus, just loud enough for her to hear, a mischievous grin on my face.

She folds her arms under her low-hanging breasts, the motion both modest and unconsciously lifting them. But that just makes them appear even bigger in the robe, and her hard nipples poke through the thin fabric. My grin deepens, and Demarcus stares.

Ramya’s cheeks warm. “I’ll take that drink now.”

I pour her one. We end up standing around the kitchen island, the three of us, the air thick. Small talk happens in fragments—CrossFit, the weather, nothing that matters, while we all think about sex. Demarcus’s eyes keep dropping to Ramya's engorged nipples pushing through low. Mine do too. Ramya drinks a little too fast and glances at Demarcus' crotch.

When the glass is empty she sets it down and gives a small, uncertain smile. “Well… maybe I should go. Let you two have your night.”

I shake my head.

“Not yet.” I step back and pull my loose shirt over my head in one motion, dropping it on the counter. The pink lace bra is sheer enough to show the dark of my nipples. “Let me show you my outfit first." I grin, hook my thumbs in the leggings, and push them down. The matching thong, garter belt, and stockings frame everything. I step out of the fabric and stand there in the lingerie I bought for another man.

Ramya’s eyes widen.

Demarcus makes a low sound of approval. “Fuck,” he groans.

Ramya’s gaze moves over me slowly. “I haven’t seen that one before.”

The way she says it reminds both of us how many times she’s already seen me naked.

I walk to her. Close. I lean in and give her the lightest peck on the mouth. Wait. Search her eyes. Then I kiss her properly.

She kisses back for three full seconds before she pulls away, cheeks flushed dark, breathing a little faster.

I reach for the belt of the robe and untie it. Ramya gasps but doesn’t stop me. The satin falls open. It still covers her breasts, but the rest of her is exposed—soft stomach, the neat trimmed triangle of black hair at the top of her mound, and below it, completely bare lips.

I freeze.

“Holy shit. You shaved.”

My fingers hover, then carefully stroke over the smooth skin. I look up at Demarcus, still half in shock.

“She had the thickest Indian bush. It was actually sexy. I loved it, but this is…”

My voice trails off as I meet Ramya’s eyes. She doesn’t look away. The realization settles warm and heavy in my chest.

She did this for me.

I keep my hand gentle on her. “I want you to stay. Watch him fuck me.” My voice drops. “Let me show off for you. Then… if you want… let me have a closer look at your gorgeous pussy.”

Ramya hesitates. Her throat moves.

I peck her lips again and add, softer, almost shy, “Please.”

A long second passes. Then another.

Finally my mentor nods. “Watching might be fun.” She glances at Demarcus. “If you’re okay with it?”

Demarcus’s voice is rough. “Yeah. I’m okay with it.”

I take Ramya’s hand. Demarcus’s hand finds the small of my back. Together we turn toward the bedroom.