Whisper to Brianna that she should let him cum inside her too

Megan's House, Westwood Heights, at 11:27 PM on Thursday October 31st, 2024

Brianna's heart is hammering so hard she can feel it in her throat.

(Brianna's perspective)

I'm on the bed — actually on the bed, knees sinking into the mattress beside Megan's trembling body — and I can't stop staring. Megan's face is pressed into the pillow, her red curls plastered to her sweaty neck, her pirate skirt still bunched around her waist. Cum is leaking from her pussy in thick, slow rivulets, pooling on the sheets beneath her. She looks wrecked. She looks beautiful. And Trevor — this new, confident, impossibly magnetic Trevor — is still inside her, his hand resting on her lower back like he owns her.

I've wanted Megan since sophomore year. Never told anyone. Never acted on it. Pushed it down so deep I almost convinced myself it wasn't there. But watching her get fucked — watching her beg for it — has cracked something open inside me that I don't think I can close again.

Megan turns her head. Her green eyes find mine — glazed, fucked-out, but somehow still Megan. Still my best friend. She reaches out and her fingers brush my cheek, leaving a wet streak of sweat and something else.

"Let him cum inside you," she whispers, her voice raw and hoarse. "Bri — it feels so good — you have to feel it —"

My stomach drops. My pussy clenches so hard I gasp. Because I want to. God help me, I want it so badly my thighs are shaking. But I'm on the pill — have been since freshman year — and that's fine, that's safe, the chance of anything happening is basically zero. Right?

Trevor pulls out of Megan with a wet, obscene sound and turns toward me. His cock is still hard — thick, glistening with cum and Megan's juices, bobbing heavily between his legs. My eyes lock onto it and I can't look away. It's bigger than any cock I've ever seen in person, veined, the head flushed dark.

"Take that off," he says, nodding at my nurse costume. Not asking. Telling.

My hands move before my brain catches up. I unzip the white dress, peel it down my body, unclip the bra. My tits spill free — full, heavy, pink-nippled — and his amber eyes drink them in with an appreciation that makes my cunt throb. I shimmy out of my panties last, leaving them tangled around one ankle, and I'm naked on the bed beside my cum-soaked best friend.

"On your back," he says.

I lie down. My legs fall open without me telling them to. I'm dripping — I can feel it, my pussy swollen and slick, my clit throbbing visibly beneath its hood. He positions himself between my thighs and the head of his cock nudges against my entrance. Bare. No condom. Just hot, thick flesh pressing against my soaking slit.

"Wait —" I breathe. "I'm on birth control, but — are you — you should still —"

"You want me to stop?" Those amber eyes. That calm voice. His cock slides forward just an inch, parting my folds, and the sensation is so intense my vision blurs.

"No," I whisper. "No, don't stop."

He pushes in. Slowly. Inch by devastating inch. My pussy stretches around him — so much thicker than I expected, so much hotter — and I feel every ridge, every vein as he sinks deeper. My walls grip him desperately, pulling him in, and when he bottoms out I can feel his cockhead pressing against my cervix just like he pressed against Megan's.

"Oh fuck —" My back arches off the bed. "You're so big —"

"You're tighter than her," he growls, starting to move. Long, deep strokes that make my tits bounce with each thrust. "Going to fill you up just like I filled her."

I should object. I should insist on a condom. But Megan's hand finds mine and squeezes, and her cum-covered thigh presses against mine, and she whispers again: "Let him. It's incredible. You won't regret it."

My birth control will handle it. The odds are basically zero. And his cock feels so good inside me, bare and thick and throbbing, that I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him deeper.

"Cum inside me," I hear myself say. "Please — I want to feel it —"