Summer Series: Isabella's first time (MFF Threesome)

The gardens of the presidential palace were in full bloom, a kaleidoscope of color and fragrance that seemed to stretch endlessly under the Montesoro sun. Isabella sat beneath a jacaranda tree, its purple blossoms swaying gently in the breeze, sipping from a glass of iced lemonade. She wore a white sundress, simple yet elegant, a gift from her mother for her eighteenth birthday. It had been a week since the grand celebration—a lavish event with dignitaries, military officials, and elites all gathered to pay homage to the daughter of El Presidente.

But for Isabella, the true joy of turning eighteen wasn’t the glittering parties or the perfunctory speeches. It was the newfound freedom that came with adulthood, however limited it might be within the gilded confines of her father’s regime.

“Isabella, you’re daydreaming again,” Bianca teased, emerging from behind her with a playful smile. The handmaid carried a basket of fresh fruit, her dark hair tied back with a simple ribbon. Though her role was to serve Isabella, their relationship had always been more like sisters. They had grown up together, laughing, scheming, and sharing secrets in the shadow of the palace’s towering walls.

“Not daydreaming,” Isabella replied, her tone light but evasive. “Just... enjoying the moment.”

Bianca raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been acting strange since the party. What is it? Another lecture from your father?”

“No,” Isabella said quickly, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “It’s not that.”

Bianca smirked, setting the basket down beside her. “Then it must be him.”

“Him” was Nicolás, a young bodyguard recently assigned to the palace. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sun-kissed skin and eyes that seemed to hold an entire world of quiet intensity. He had been a peripheral presence during Isabella’s birthday celebrations, his stoic demeanor contrasting with the opulence around him. But his rare smiles had made an impression—on both Isabella and Bianca.

“You’re imagining things,” Isabella said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, please,” Bianca said with a laugh, sitting cross-legged beside her. “I see the way you look at him. Don’t deny it.”

Isabella sighed, plucking a grape from the basket. “Fine. Maybe I... noticed him.”

“Noticed him?” Bianca scoffed. “You’ve been sneaking glances at him every chance you get. Don’t worry—I have too.”

Isabella turned to her, eyes wide. “You?”

Bianca grinned. “Of course. Have you seen him? He’s like something out of a storybook.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, the weight of their shared secret settling between them. Then, they both burst into laughter, the tension breaking like a dam.

“What do we do about this?” Isabella asked once their laughter subsided. “We can’t both...”

“Why not?” Bianca said mischievously. “We’re young. It’s summer. Maybe we don’t have to choose.”

Isabella raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we share him?”

Bianca shrugged, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “Why not? It’s not like we can keep him anyway. For women like us... they’re not ours to keep, only to enjoy while we can.”

The idea was outrageous, but there was something freeing about it, something rebellious. For once, Isabella could escape the expectations of being El Presidente’s daughter and simply be an eighteen-year-old girl, navigating the confusing, exhilarating waters of first love.

That night, as the palace settled into silence, Isabella and Bianca slipped away from their quarters, the thrill of the forbidden guiding them towards the the bodyguard's post, near the doors that guarded the female quarters of the palace.

Their footsteps were soft and careful, the marble floors cool under their bare feet. The palace was different at night, its grandeur giving way to a kind of quiet mystery, as if the shadows held secrets of their own.

As they rounded a corner, they saw Nicolás standing by the door. His stance was relaxed but alert, his gaze fixed on the hallway before him. In the dim light, his features seemed even more striking—strong jaw, full lips, and those eyes that always seemed to hold a hint of sadness.

“Nicolás,” Isabella whispered, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. He turned, his expression a mix of surprise and concern.

“Isabella, Bianca,” he said softly, his voice deep and gentle. “What are you doing here?”

“We... we wanted to see you,” Isabella replied, her words barely audible.

Nicolás glanced around, ensuring they were alone. “You know you shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone stern but not unkind. “If your father finds out—”

“He won’t,” Bianca interrupted, stepping closer. “We won’t let him.”

Nicolás looked at them, his brow furrowed with uncertainty. “This is dangerous. For all of us.”

“I know,” Isabella said, her eyes meeting his. “But I... we... can’t stay away.”

Bianca moved to his side, her hand brushing against his arm. “We’ve waited long enough,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Isabella could feel the tension building, the air thick with anticipation. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, her hand reaching out to caress his cheek. Nicolás leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the contact.

“Are you sure about this?” he murmured, his breath warm on her skin.

“Yes,” Isabella breathed, her resolve unwavering. “I want you. We want you.”

At her words, Nicolás seemed to relax, the tension in his body giving way to a quiet acceptance. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and insistent, his hands moving to her waist to pull her closer.

Isabella melted into the kiss, her body responding to his touch with an urgency she had never felt before. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.

Beside her, Bianca watched with a mix of envy and arousal. She reached out, her fingers tracing the lines of his body, feeling the muscles tense and relax under her touch.

When Nicolás broke the kiss, he turned to Bianca, pulling her into a similar embrace. Their lips met, hungry and ****, their tongues dancing in a passionate rhythm that left Isabella flushed and wanting. As Bianca moaned softly into the kiss, Isabella could feel her own arousal growing, her body responding to the erotic display before her.

When they finally broke apart, their breathing ragged and their faces flushed, Nicolás turned his gaze on the two girls, his eyes dark with desire. “Come with me,” he whispered, taking their hand and leading her away from the palace's public areas, down a long hallway that ended in a small, discreetly placed room. It was dimly lit, the air heavy with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The room was sparse, with just a bed, a small desk, and a chair—his personal quarters, away from the barracks where the rest of the guards slept. It was here that he would take them, in a moment of stolen passion and rebellion.