Have Aurora Invite Jade Over

"Aurora—go get your phone from the pool," you order. "Text Jade. Tell her it’s a girls' night. Tell her to dress club-hot, and to get over here so you two can get fucked up."

Aurora pushes herself off the floor. Her massive breasts swing heavily with the motion, completely unhidden as she stands and cocks a hip. "It’s almost nine on a Tuesday," she says. "But yeah, Jade’s probably just watching Netflix. She’ll come." She starts toward the door, then stops, glancing back over her bare shoulder. "Am I walking outside naked?"

"Yeah." You drink in the sight of her plush, naked body. "If you get her here, your reward is getting cleaned up—brush your teeth, shower, whatever. But when you get dressed, look as slutty as humanly possible. Shortest skirt, lowest top, highest heels. You're getting ready for a threesome tonight, Aurora. Jade just doesn't know it yet."

A ghost of a smirk touches her lips. "I have an Hervé Léger bandage dress that barely covers my ass. Jade always says I look like a hooker in it. She means it as a compliment."

"Perfect. Go."

Aurora turns and pads out of the bedroom, her heavy breasts bouncing with each barefoot step down the hallway. Her footsteps descend the staircase and fade toward the back of the house.

You turn your attention to Titania. She remains kneeling on the hardwood, hands folded primly on her thighs, her posture immaculate and regal despite her total nudity.

"I want you to set up a meeting with Victoria and Margaux," you say. "Whenever works for them this week. Lunch, drinks, whatever. Just get them here. To my house."

Titania nods once. "Thursday lunch would be the most natural invitation. We have a standing reservation at the club, but I can suggest hosting here instead. Neither will find that unusual."

"Do it. Text them now."

She reaches for her gold-cased iPhone on the nightstand. Her thumbs move quickly across the screen. Watching over her shoulder, you read the message to a group chat labeled Thursday Girls:

Ladies—change of plans this week. Let's do lunch at mine instead of the club. I'll have Cristina prepare something lovely. Same time, Thursday at noon. Thoughts?

She hits send and looks up at you. "Cristina is our private chef. She comes three days a week. I can have her prepare something for Thursday."

"Good."

Titania’s phone buzzes almost immediately. "Victoria says, 'Divine. I'll bring wine.'" Another buzz follows. "Margaux says, 'Parfait. See you then, chérie.'" Titania locks the screen. "They'll be here Thursday at noon."

You grin. "Perfect."

From downstairs, the faint sound of the sliding glass door opening and closing echoes through the house as Aurora retrieves her phone from the pool deck. A minute passes, followed by the distant, sharp chime of a phone notification.

Soon, bare feet click rapidly on the stairs. Aurora appears in the doorway, phone in hand, still stark naked. The screen glows brightly against her pale skin.

"Done," she says, a triumphant look in her eyes. "Jade’s in. She said—and I’m quoting—'Bitch YES. Give me forty minutes. Wearing the red thing.' She’ll be here around nine-thirty." Aurora leans heavily against the doorframe, crossing her arms tightly beneath her chest, forcing those impossible, heavy breasts together into deep, dizzying cleavage. "Can I take a shower now?"

"Go ahead. You’ve earned it. Just remember to dress like a million bucks."

"I always look like a million bucks," Aurora says with the haughty certainty of a girl who knows her own worth. She pushes off the doorframe and disappears down the hall. A moment later, the bathroom door clicks shut, and the heavy hiss of running water fills the background.

While she gets ready, you pull your jeans back on and tug your shirt over your head. Titania watches you dress with quiet attentiveness.

"Get cleaned up," you tell her. "Put something on. Something that looks normal—like I'm a guest, not your owner. I don't want to spook her friend before I get a chance to write on her."

Titania rises from the bed with fluid grace, her heavy breasts swaying as she crosses to the cavernous walk-in closet. She disappears inside and emerges two minutes later completely transformed. Her dark red hair is smoothed back, and she wears a silk robe in deep burgundy that cinches tight at her waist, accentuating the dramatic fullness of her hourglass figure. She looks like a wealthy, untouchable matriarch again.

"Better?" she asks.

"I want to blow my load inside you," you tell her bluntly.

Titania’s composure holds, but a visible flush creeps up her neck above the silk collar. Her pale blue eyes flicker downward—just for an instant—to the heavy bulge pressing against your denim. You sit on the edge of the bed and gesture for her to come to you. She doesn't hesitate. When she reaches the mattress, you spread your knees and pat your lap.

"Straddle me."

Titania lifts her knees onto the mattress, settling her weight across your thighs. The robe rides up, bunching at her hips, and the bare heat of her sex presses instantly against the rough denim of your jeans. Her heavy breasts hang before you at eye level, barely contained by the burgundy silk. Her hands rest lightly on your shoulders for balance, her pale eyes watching your face with careful, captive stillness.

You reach up and grip the lapels of the robe, pulling them apart just enough to expose the deep valley between her breasts. The silk parts like curtains. Her skin is flawless—pale cream, smooth as poured milk, with a faint tracery of blue veins visible beneath the surface where her breasts swell heaviest.

"I'd fuck you right now," you murmur, leaning forward. Your lips find the column of her throat—the delicate curve where her jaw meets her neck—and you press an open-mouthed kiss against it. She inhales sharply. Her pulse flutters under your tongue like a trapped bird. "I'd lay you down here, on your marital bed, and plow your pussy before filling." A kiss. "You." Another kiss. "Up."

Your mouth travels down, tracing a wet line down the side of her neck. You feel the tendons tighten beneath her skin, feel her breath quicken as your tongue drags across her collarbone.

"Lucky for you, I'm saving it for Jade." You pull her robe further apart, exposing the full, heavy weight of her left breast. The nipple is already stiffening in the cool air. You lower your mouth to it, your tongue circling the areola in slow, deliberate strokes. Titania's fingers tighten on your shoulders. "When she gets here, I'm going to claim her. Then I'm going to fuck her. I'm going to cum inside her—deep—and then I'm going to have Aurora eat it out of her."

You pull back just enough to look up at her face. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed a shade darker than the robe. "What do you think of that plan?"

"I think—" She swallows hard. Your right hand slides down the curve of her waist, over the flare of her hip, and around to the full, heavy swell of her ass beneath the bunched silk. You grip hard, fingers sinking deep into the yielding flesh, and she gasps, losing her composure for a split second. "I think you're cruel."

"Cruel?" You knead her ass roughly, pulling her hips forward so her bare sex grinds right against the bulge in your jeans. The friction makes her breath hitch. "That's blunt."

"You asked what I think." Titania's voice is barely a whisper now. You switch to her other breast, your tongue tracing the underside of the heavy curve, tasting the faint salt of her skin. "I think you're going to do whatever you want regardless of my opinion. So yes—cruel. You didn't need to have me and my daughter do... those things in full view of the neighbors. If you had to do it, you could have left us our dignity and reputation."

You release her breast from your mouth with a soft, wet sound. Your left hand slides up her spine beneath the robe, pulling her closer until her chest presses flat against yours—those massive, heavy breasts compressing between your bodies, spilling outward from the pressure.

"The two of you are my sex slaves."

Crack.

A tremor runs through her as you deliver a sharp, punishing smack to her bare right ass cheek. The sound is muffled by the silk but sharp. Her hips jerk forward involuntarily, grinding hard against you.

"You don't need dignity."

Crack.

You smack her again—same cheek, harder. She bites her lower lip to suppress a cry.

"Or a reputation."

Crack.

Her fingers dig into your shoulders. Your hands roam freely now—one groping the full weight of her breast through the parted robe, thumb rolling her hardened nipple; the other alternating between kneading her ass and delivering sharp, controlled slaps that make her whole body jolt against you. She's incredibly wet; you can feel the slick heat soaking straight through your jeans where her bare sex rubs against the denim.

"The only thing you need to be able to do is spread your legs and push your tits together. And judging by how you're dripping on my pants, you must really like that idea."

"I'm sorry," she breathes, her voice breaking. "I can't—you're—"

"I didn't say stop." You pull her tighter, grinding her down against your crotch. The friction of the rough denim against her swollen, slick folds makes her head drop forward. Her forehead rests against your shoulder, her breath coming in short, shuddering bursts against your neck.

From somewhere downstairs, the muffled, distinct chime of the doorbell echoes through the house.