Not quite.

As Roth began to examine the exterior windows of this jungle-beats festival, he smirked at the half-raised blinds. He estimated that there were between a dozen and 2 dozen people in the shared living space.

While the storm soaked into his clothes, he scanned the couples and groups for familiar faces. Most of pairs were sloppily making out. A few of them were caressing and fondling each other, as if possessed in heat. He could clearly see a group of 6 people at the island, chatting and overtly flirting around the assortment of ****. Scanning right, he noted a group of four women, two of whom were faced away from the window he was peering into. Among the group were a redhead, a woman with long silver hair, and a woman that the drenched man immediately recognized: Abigail Darville…

He couldn’t help but examine her curvy body; drooling at the short skirt hugging her unnaturally wide hips, her long legs adorned with heels 3 inches higher than a pair a prostitute might buy, and the pillowy breasts threatening to explode out of her skimpy crop-top at any moment. She was caressing the ass of a shorter, flat-chested, petite woman with a mixed drink in her hand. Recognizing the party’s host immediately, he couldn’t help but smile at her conscious effort to show a minimal amount of skin.

Dahlia was never openly promiscuous, he mused. She was the cliche closeted slut. It worked to his advantage that she hid her sexual frustration behind a bubbly personality. He could no longer count the occasions during which she had given in to her suppressed desire for submission in his company. He was appreciative of the fact that she swore him to secrecy. He hated the idea of being tied down and simultaneously loved how malleable the intimate nature of their raw passion made her. It was on his request that she threw this party in the first place, though he couldn't shake the feeling that their fucking would eventually come to a conclusion as raw and passionate as it began.

In tiptoeing towards the left side of the metal platform, he noticed Dollie blush and excuse herself from the groping of the enigmatic, raven-haired vixen. She started walking left, towards her bedroom. Luckily for Roth, the leftmost window from his side of the catwalk was open and unobscured. As he turned his attention to her bedroom window, his secret lover closed the her door and scurried off to her restroom.

He chuckled, “Too much to drink?”

As Dahlia locked that door, he lifted open the unlatched window pane, **** to escape the ensuing downpour. Feet-first, he descended into her room and stood beside her bed.

“I’m soaking, for fuck’s sake,” he thought aloud, as he proceeded to unbuckle his belt and unzip his drenched hoodie.

Next, he peeled off his shirt, heavy with the volume of the absorbed liquid.

As he reached for his now unzipped pants, he realized that his friend in the washroom was panting.

“Ohhh, yes, Abi! Use me like the plaything I am… fuuuuuck, baby…”, she moaned, clearly intoxicated and not caring who heard her.

Roth’s lust got the better of him, as this situation should have given him pause- Dollie has always been 100% straight. Honestly, she was probably as closeted a homophobe as she was a nymphomaniac.

He ripped his pants off, and his briefs followed. He stood up straight with all 5’7” of his body, consciously leaning back against the wall, and feeling the blood rush to his loins. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his sex-fiend friend’s labored breathing. Unconsciously, all of his muscles began to tense, as he slowly lifted his hands to his face, wiping the rain from it. Next, he undid the knot on the back of his head, breathing coolly as water dripped off of his now undone hair. As he reached back and tightened his grip on his long locks to squeeze the excess rainwater from it, the bathroom door slowly swung open.

Dahlia, who he expected to be noticeably ****, sauntered out of the bathroom in silence. As she began to mentally channel her prudish self, she heard a deep sigh from the far corner of the room.

Roth opened his brown eyes slowly, still letting the stress of his investigation escape him through his movements. Glancing upward, he noticed Dollie.

She glared back at him with unwavering eye contact.

“If you were in the mood you could have at least closed the pane behind you before you undressed,” she said with a smirk. At this point the part of her that sought discretion was long gone. She needed release more than she ever had.

“I wasn’t really thinking about keeping this place clean with all the filthy shit you were fantasizing about in there, Dahl.”

His nymph said nothing. Crossing the room, she reclined onto her mattress.

He took two steps towards her bed and began caressing her left thigh through her leggings. Now on her side, she locked eyes with again, and rolled backwards to expose the zipper of her polka dotted navy dress.

With both hands now free, Roth decided to double-task. His left hand moved to her inner thigh as he peeled off the shell with the right. Dahlia’s body language immediately changed. She moved so that she was now laying on her back, and uncrossed her arms, shedding her conservative garment. Then, she pushed it onto the floor and rotated her body so that her head was dangling off of the side of the bed.

His sword now standing at full attention, he got up and positioned himself behind her.

Without instruction, she gripped his shaft tightly, pointing the head towards her now gaping mouth. Her next instinct was to let her tongue warm him up, moving the tip of it- first across his head, and then around his glans.

“Enough,” he growled, annoyed at the prodding pace of their debauchery.

Dahlia’s tongue receded and she opened her mouth completely, allowing her master full access to her. Roth directed his tool straight into it, entering slowly in anticipation of the savagery his mood demanded.

“Mmmmmm…” reacted his partner, closing her lips around him as she readied herself to bob up and down.

“Keep your mouth open and don’t clench your teeth, or I’ll be taking you just as fast from the backdoor… without lube.”

Dahlia whimpered. There was no pleasure for her in dry anal, but a part of her wanted it as raw as he could deliver.

Roth bent forward, propping his hands on to the bed next to her knees. He began to piston into her, getting half of his shaft in before receding. His fuckpuppet moaned in approval.

Oh, Dahlia was comfortable! He wanted to change that. She had never taken his full 10 inches down her throat before. He decided to go for broke, pushing himself into overdrive.

While Roth was abusing her throat and face, his slut was toying with her pussy under her leggings, working around and pinching her clit, trying to override the pain of his brutal facefucking with the pleasure she was just giving herself. One orgasm was not nearly enough for her.

Her master noticed this, and commanded her through his animalistic grunting, “Grab me by my backside and embrace it!”

*grunt*

She reluctantly pulled away from her pussy and slid her hands up around his hips,taking a moment to ready herself before what she was about to do.

“Ohh shit Dollie, you’ve gotten it down into your esophagus! Shit that’s tighter than your pussy!!”

Dahlia let out a guttural moan as tears began to escape her eyes. She wished that she had Abi’s tits so that Roth could give her some semblance of satisfaction while in this position. She could vividly imagine how sensitive they would be, how much he would want to maul them, pinch them, and suck on those jugs. Somehow the image of her lover fondling Abi on top of her made her moan again, this time, loud enough for it to be heard in the living room over the head-pounding music.

Outside, Abi smirked and whispered a lewd suggestion to her fellow succubi...

In the next room, Dahlia’s pleasure remained physically neglected but mentally envisioned. Roth began to whisper, “God fucking damn it Dahl, I’m going to come straight into your stomach! Start breathing through your nose…”

She followed his instruction as he began to shout out of pure passion.

“Ahhhhhhhhh yes. That what you wanted, huh?”

Deep down (no pun intended), she did. She wanted to be ravaged, she wanted to be used. She wanted to live the life of a plaything in private and the prude in public. She shook up the bottle every day just to let herself pop off with her partner, no strings attached. It kept her sharp, she reasoned. It was her means of release.

Roth started to pull out of his friend. His inner mongrel now sedated, he allowed his rational judgement to come back into control. He was here to get to the bottom o-

The door abruptly swung open. Still in a daze, Dahlia allowed herself to drift through her lustful thoughts. Her alert friend, however, nearly jumped at the entrance of...