Rio

Rio de Janeiro was sultry and sexual. All three of you could go onto the beaches in thongs, Amanda's ass big and meaty and pale, Bruna's ass strong and bronze, and yours meatier and bronze. You played volleyball with the men, you drank strong drinks through prissy straws, and you loved and laughed with one another. You felt almost healthy, though your remnant belied that, weaker than ever sitting in your panties.

Bruna had tapered off the hormones, just for a night like this one, with Amanda at her peak fertility. Their panties were sitting side by side on the floor, and you sniffed them, getting hints of pussy and cock amidst the matching perfumes. You crawled onto the bed, looking into your ex's beautiful green eyes, rubbing the front of your panties, fervently wishing you had a pussy yourself.

"Please, Bruna, please," she murmured tipsily, and all the parties were aware of what she wanted. What she wanted for you, as much as herself. Bruna's hips pumped strong, like the bull she was, as her pace grew uneven, as the lust clouded her mind.

"Fuck ... fuck take it!" she growled hoarsely, her voice dipping an octave, as she drowned your ex's womb in seed, her potency for that moment aligned with Amanda's fertility.