The Tasting

The sound of the door went. Sarah’s eyes met mine, wide and shining with a resolve that had burned away all remaining nerves. She didn’t scramble for clothes or cover herself. She stood, naked and proud in the lamplight, and reached for my hand.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice steady.

We walked out of the bedroom, two women bare and unashamed, our skin still flushed from each other’s touch. The apartment felt charged, the air itself thick with anticipation. I opened the door.

Carl stood in the hallway. His eyes, dark and assessing, swept over us both—my familiar readiness, Sarah’s new, unveiled hunger. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

“Well,” he rumbled, stepping inside and dropping his bag with a soft thud. “Looks like you two didn’t waste any time.”

He closed the door and locked it, the final *click* sealing us in. He shrugged off his jacket, his movements deliberate, powerful. His gaze fixed on Sarah. “You look different, sweetheart. Less… worried.”

“I’m not worried,” Sarah said, and she sounded like she meant it. She took a step toward him, her chin lifted. “Carrie’s been teaching me.”

“Has she now?” Carl’s smile widened. He reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. “And what did you learn?”

“I learned I have a lot to learn,” she said, her eyes dropping to the front of his jeans. “And I’m ready to start.”

Carl’s chuckle was a low, appreciative sound. He looked at me over her head, a silent question in his eyes. I gave a single, slight nod.

“Good,” he said, his voice dropping to that commanding register that made Sarah shiver. “On your knees. Both of you.”

We moved as one, sinking to the floor before him on the living room rug. Sarah’s movements were a half-beat behind mine, but they were sure. We knelt side by side, looking up at him. He unbuttoned his jeans, the sound loud in the quiet room, and pushed them down along with his boxers.

His cock sprang free, already thick and half-hard, curving up against his stomach. Sarah let out a soft, awed breath. She’d seen it before, but never like this—not with the deliberate, worshipful intention we now held.

Her hand, trembling only slightly, reached out. Her fingers brushed his length, then wrapped around him. She looked up at Carl, seeking approval. He just watched her, his expression unreadable.

I leaned in first, pressing my lips to the head of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum that had already beaded there. I swirled my tongue around the crown, then took him slowly into my mouth, sinking down until my lips met my hand at the base. I pulled off with a wet pop and looked at Sarah.

“Your turn.”

She needed no further encouragement. She mimicked my motion, her lips parting, her tongue darting out to taste him before she enveloped him. Her technique was unpracticed but achingly eager. She took him deep, gagging slightly before pulling back, her eyes watering.

“Good girl,” Carl grunted, his hand coming to rest on top of her head. “Just like that.”

We fell into a rhythm, a shared, silent communion. I would take him deep, my throat working, while Sarah licked and kissed his balls, her fingers tracing the sensitive skin behind them. Then we’d switch—she’d take him into her mouth, sucking with growing confidence, while I lavished attention on the length of him with my tongue, kissing and nipping at his inner thighs.

The room filled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of our worship. Carl’s breathing grew heavier, his hands fisting in our hair, not guiding, just holding, claiming.

“Enough,” he growled after several minutes. He pulled us both up by our hair, not roughly, but with absolute authority. “On the couch. Carrie, on your back.”

I moved to the large, leather sofa, lying back against the cushions, my legs spread. Carl loomed over me, his cock glistening from our mouths.

He positioned himself between my legs, the broad head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He didn’t ask if I was ready; he knew I was. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside me to the hilt.

I cried out, a sharp sound of pure satisfaction, my back arching off the couch. He filled me perfectly, stretching me, claiming the space that was his. He began to fuck me with deep, piston-like strokes, each one driving the air from my lungs.

Sarah watched, her hand unconsciously moving between her own legs, her fingers working in small, frantic circles. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes glued to where Carl and I were joined.

“Come here,” Carl commanded, not breaking his rhythm.

She scrambled forward, kneeling beside the couch, her face level with our hips.

“Lick her pussy” he ordered.

Sarah didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick where his cock plunged in and out of me. She lapped at the mixture of my arousal and his pre-cum, moaning at the taste. She kissed my clit, sucking gently, her mouth joining the rhythm of Carl’s thrusts.

The sensation was overwhelming—the deep, full penetration of Carl’s cock and the soft, wet flicker of Sarah’s tongue. I tangled one hand in Carl’s hair, the other in Sarah’s, holding them both to me.

“Switch,” Carl grunted, pulling out of me abruptly.

He turned to Sarah, his hands on her hips, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. He positioned her on her hands and knees on the rug in front of the couch. I moved behind her, spreading her cheeks, exposing her pink, tight hole to him. He spat into his hand, slicked himself, and without ceremony, pushed into her ass.

Sarah screamed, a raw, guttural sound of shock and intense pleasure-pain. Her body went rigid for a second, then melted into the penetration, her head dropping between her shoulders. “Ohgodohgodohgod,” she chanted into the rug.

Carl fucked her ass with the same relentless pace, his balls slapping against her. I moved in front of Sarah, lowering myself to my knees. I took her face in my hands and kissed her, deep and dirty, sharing the taste of myself and Carl on my lips. Then I guided my breast to her mouth. She latched onto my nipple, sucking hard, her cries muffled against my flesh.

“Now, Carrie,” Carl panted, his rhythm becoming erratic, brutal. “I want to finish in your cunt. Get over here.”

He pulled out of Sarah, who whimpered at the loss. He turned and sat heavily on the edge of the couch. I straddled him immediately, sinking down onto his rock-hard cock in one smooth motion. I rode him hard, my hips grinding in tight circles, taking him as deep as he could go.

Sarah crawled over, her eyes glazed, her body trembling. She knelt beside us, her hand reaching between my legs to stroke my clit as I fucked her man.

“That’s it,” Carl growled, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Take it. Take all of it.”

I could feel his orgasm building, the telltale thickening, the tightening of his muscles beneath me. I locked my eyes with Sarah’s.

“Get ready,” I breathed.

I increased my pace, slamming down on him, milking him with the tight clutch of my cunt. Carl’s head fell back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat. His hips bucked up off the couch, driving himself impossibly deep as he came.

I felt it—the hot, sudden pulse deep inside me, the flood of his release filling me up. I cried out, my own orgasm ripping through me at the sensation, triggered by the feel of his cum jetting into my womb.

For a moment, we were frozen—Carl shuddering beneath me, me clenching around him, Sarah watching with rapt, hungry awe.

Then, as Carl’s cock began to soften inside me, I lifted myself off him. I lay back on the rug, spreading my legs wide, my knees bent. I was a mess—sweat-slicked, his cum already starting to seep out of my well-used pussy.

I looked at Sarah. Her eyes were fixed on the glistening evidence of Carl’s climax, dripping from my swollen lips.

“Now, Sarah,” I said, my voice hoarse.

She didn’t need to be told twice. She moved between my legs with a single-minded focus that was beautiful to behold. She lowered her head, her ginger hair tickling my thighs. Her first touch was a reverent kiss on my inner thigh. Then her tongue found my core.

She licked slowly, deliberately, gathering the thick, white fluid that leaked from me. A soft, **** moan vibrated against my flesh as she tasted it. She lapped at my entrance, her tongue plunging inside to get every drop, her nose nudging my clit.

“Mmmph… god… it’s so… salty… warm…” she mumbled against me, her words lost in her feast.

She ate Carl’s creampie from my pussy with a starving, devoted intensity. Her tongue was thorough, cleaning me inside and out, swallowing every last bit of his seed mixed with my arousal. She licked my folds, my clit, drinking down our combined essence until I was clean and she was panting, her chin glistening. I was busy sucking Carl's cock clean, tasting both of us on his cock.

Finally, she lifted her head. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dazed and utterly sated. She looked from me to Carl, who was watching her with dark, possessive pride.

She crawled up my body and kissed me, deep and slow. I could taste myself and Carl on her tongue.

“Fuck, that was amazing” she whispered against my lips, her voice thick with emotion and spent passion.

Carl reached out, his large hand stroking her hair. “You did good, sweetheart. Real good.”

Sarah collapsed beside me on the rug, her body curling into mine. We were a tangle of limbs and sweat and satisfaction. Carl sat on the couch above us, a king surveying his handywork.