Next please

I stayed on the balcony after he left, letting the cum cool on my chest, sticky and half-dried in the crease of my tits. I didn’t clean it off. I didn’t fix my top. The door slid closed behind him and no one said a word. The party kept going. I could hear the bass thumping under my feet.

The two guys still smoking didn’t meet my eyes. One was scrolling his phone. The other was watching the street like it owed him something. Neither of them looked at the mess on my chest—but they knew. They were there. They heard it. They smelled it.

I leaned back against the railing, arms at my sides, tits pushed up and still slick. I didn’t say anything.

Five minutes later, one of the smokers put out his cigarette and walked toward the door. He paused, like he was thinking about it. Then he looked at me.

He didn’t speak.

He just pulled his cock out—long, thinner, still half-soft—and stepped in front of me.

I pressed my tits together again. He slid in like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. Not a question, not a flirt, not a trace of emotion. Just friction, warmth, and tits that could handle anything.

He whispered “fuck” under his breath. I didn’t reply.

His friend stayed behind, smoking another cigarette like he didn’t notice what was happening right beside him.

The second one finished faster than the first—short, breathy grunts, a fast twitch of his hips, and he was done. He came across my chest, his load mixing with the drying mess from the guy before him. It pooled into my cleavage like it had been waiting for company.

He zipped up, wiped his tip on the inside of my top like it was a towel, and went back inside. No glance. No thanks.

I was left there again—now even messier, even more claimed.

Ten minutes passed. A third guy came over.

Not the smoker. A stranger. Didn’t even look at me at first. Just lit a cigarette, leaned against the rail, said “Nice night.”

I nodded.

Then, after a minute: “You letting guys use ‘em?”

I didn’t nod. I didn’t speak. I just lifted my tits with both hands and gave him a look.

That was enough.

He walked over, pulled out a thick, veiny cock, slapped it against my tits a few times, and shoved it between them like they were his. And honestly? By that point, they were.