And she knew this wasn’t going to stop here.

The blanket cocooned them in heat. For Hannah, it was like crawling into a sauna steeped in nectar and lust. Every breath carried the rich density of Alex’s scent, a perfume of desire that slid into her lungs and curled around her thoughts. Her mind slowed. Rationality bent. There was no denying it—she was addicted to it.

She moved slowly, reverently, letting her fingertips trace Alex’s thighs. The skin there was impossibly soft, nearly frictionless, like stroking silk soaked in warmth. Her hands slid up slowly, brushing the inside of Alex’s thighs, rising until she found heat and tension wrapped around velvet. She paused, breath trembling.

Alex's hips twitched. Her voice caught in her throat. “Don’t,” she whispered.

Hannah didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned in closer. Her tongue darted out.

Hannah hovered just above Alex’s cock, close enough for her breath to stir the fine hairs at the base. She didn’t move fast. Her presence was felt before anything else, and that alone made Alex’s muscles clench. The anticipation stretched, unbearable and intoxicating.

Her lips brushed the tip—not a kiss, not yet. Just a pause. The warmth of her breath lingered, mingling with the ambient heat that pooled under the blanket. Then a slow, single stroke of her tongue dragged across the underside, deliberate and light. She drew back, letting her saliva cool on the skin, before leaning in again.

Alex gasped, her hips involuntarily twitching forward. Her hands instinctively reached for Hannah's head—not to pull her closer, but to hold her back. A protest caught in her throat, too weak to become words.

Hannah giggled under her breath, a sound full of mischief and purpose. She gave another slow lick, teasing just under the ridge, letting her tongue press more firmly this time, gauging Alex’s reaction. The twitch of her sister’s hips and the sudden tremor in her breath gave her all the encouragement she needed.

With a slow exhale, Hannah opened her mouth wider and lowered her head, letting the tip slide past her lips. Her eyes widened as Alex’s cock began to fill her mouth. It was thicker than she expected—almost too large for her tongue to cradle. But instead of resisting, it pressed forward smoothly, its texture soft yet firm, like a flavored fist of jello.

Alex’s precum hit her tongue in a steady pulse, and Hannah moaned softly around the length. The taste was divine. She had always loved fruits and spices, but this was beyond flavor. It reminded her of a candy that lived in memory more than reality, promised by the end of pain, both medicinal and indulgent. The taste shifted constantly—mango, cinnamon, clove, honey—never the same, always perfect. Each swallow left behind a ghost of something irreplaceable.

She needed more. She would always need more. And she knew, with total certainty, that nothing else in the world would compare. No one else could give this to her.

Alex’s cock moved deeper with every breath, not by ****, but with ease, bending without resistance to her throat's shape. It should have made her gag. Her body should have protested. But like a smoker learning not to cough, the instinct was overwritten—smoothed away by need and hunger. Her throat welcomed the length, her reflex dulled not by training, but by a newly born physical addiction. For Alex, her body would comply. Just for her.

Alex jerked at the sensation, her hands scrambling under the blanket. One hand found Hannah’s shoulder, the other her head, pressing against her gently in an attempt to stop her descent. “Hannah, please…”

Her voice trembled. Not with power, but with helplessness. But Hannah was already too deep in it. Her lips curled up in a smile as she felt Alex’s resistance weaken. Her body throbbed with heat and interest.

Hannah could feel as the cock pushed in deeper, her throat bulging obscenely as the log of flesh moved past her throat and into her chest. The tip, far beyond what seemed natural, pressed high enough that it passed beneath her collarbone. With each beat of Alex’s heart, a pulse of pre leaked from her tip and into Hannah’s waiting body. It flowed across her tongue, down her throat, and into her stomach, marking her from the inside out.

Each heartbeat hit like a war drum. Each glob of pre a battering ram against her higher thoughts. The flavor, ever-changing and impossible to place, held her in a euphoric daze. She was drunk on it, her nose buried in the base of Alex’s shaft, her entire being committed to staying exactly where she was, as long as she could.

Then, she felt Alex’s balls shift. They drooped heavily, pressing against her chest, spreading out slightly as if backing up for momentum. Hannah froze, shivering in anticipation as the weight and heat of them signaled something unstoppable was building.

Alex reached down and gripped the base of her cock. Her fingers tightened, **** to stop what she felt building. She squeezed until it ached, hoping it would delay the inevitable. But the effect was the opposite. Her balls drew tight, then began to swell.

The pressure behind Alex's grip didn't just linger—it multiplied. Her sac tightened, then pulsed, swelling slowly with the backed-up weight of what her body demanded to release. Each breath seemed to thicken the air around them as her balls grew heavier, almost visibly. The skin pulled taut and warm beneath Hannah's cheek, a low pulse beating like a second heart. It was no longer just need—it was inevitability, compounded with every second she tried to resist.

Hannah felt it. She paused, lifting slightly, brushing her cheek against the heat swelling beneath her. “You’re going to pop,” she whispered. “Trying to hold back?”

Alex couldn’t speak. Her grip faltered.

Hannah shifted, adjusting her position, and pressed her breasts together, wrapping them around Alex’s cock. She started to move, slowly at first.

Hannah shifted her weight and adjusted her position, sliding one arm beneath Alex’s thighs as her chest pressed closer. Her breasts, soft and full from years of quiet envy toward other women, now served a new role. She pressed them together around Alex’s shaft, the plush weight of them sinking into the contours of the length that throbbed between them.

“Can’t stop thinking about it,” she murmured, breath hot through the blanket. “You’re already so swollen. Like your body’s begging to let go.”

She began to move, gently rocking her shoulders, her breasts sliding up and down the slick, pulsing length. The friction was slow, wet, and maddening. Her cleavage glistened where her sweat mixed with Alex’s arousal, forming a shallow, fragrant sheen. Each pass of soft skin against sensitive flesh was too much. Not enough. Perfect.

Alex whimpered above her, hips twitching with every stroke. Her breath caught each time Hannah pressed harder or shifted the angle, dragging the tip just shy of her collarbone. She bit her lip. The pressure building behind her grip at the base of her cock was growing worse by the second.

“You’re fighting it,” Hannah teased, voice syrupy. “But I can feel you getting heavier. I can feel everything trying to come out.”

She was right.

Every heartbeat sent a new wave of heat through Alex’s shaft. Her balls ached, her thighs trembled, and her hands, once firm, were beginning to tremble. The teasing wasn’t just driving her mad—it was breaking her apart.

Alex bucked, losing control.

The moment she released her grip, it all came crashing down.

Alex’s hips tensed violently. She tried to pull away, to warn her sister, to say anything, but the words vanished under the **** of what was building. Her balls, swollen and aching, churned with pressure that could no longer be held back.

The release hit like a snapped cable. Alex’s cock throbbed once, then again, then fired. She wasn’t angled downward. She wasn’t even fully grasping herself. So the first rope didn’t go into Hannah’s mouth, it arced high, thick and fast, and landed directly across Alex’s own face. Hot. Blinding. Her lips, her cheek, her chin, all soaked in the first wave. It dripped from her jaw as she gasped, frozen in the haze of climax.

That moment of confusion and panic gave Hannah just enough time to react. She flinched at the blast, but it hadn’t hit her. The taste in her mouth lingered from before, and even through the fog she could feel Alex's body seize in her grip. Her cock bucked again in her hands, twitching with pressure still building behind it.

Then came the second pulse.

This time, Hannah moved instinctively, not with thought, but with need. She leaned in fast, almost colliding with Alex’s hips, catching the next rope as it spilled forth. Her lips latched around the base and then slid forward, swallowing as the cum came in waves. She didn’t think. She couldn’t. Every swallow fueled the next, each pulse of Alex’s release matched by a deep, devoted gulp.

Alex moaned, trying again to stop it, her hands reaching for her cock to cover it. But Hannah, entranced, pushed forward and took her deeper. Her lips slid down the shaft as more spilled from Alex, a second pulse even thicker than the first.

The volume was impossible. More than any man could have produced. A liter. Maybe more. It filled Hannah’s mouth, her throat, forcing her to gulp, then gulp again. Her cheeks bulged, her stomach rounded slightly, but she didn’t stop. Her eyes rolled back in bliss.

Alex’s body bucked helplessly beneath her. She wanted to cry, or scream, or beg but her cock only pulsed harder. A flood of cum that seems to never end, though as Hannah began to think how wonderful this dream was, she was pulled back to reality by the sharp pain of he hair being pulled and "fresh" air filling her lungs as Alex brings her back up before she passed out on her cock.

When it was over, Hannah pulled back with a slow, deliberate breath. She lifted the edge of the blanket and looked at Alex with eyes that no longer held confusion. Only clarity. She looked up at Alex not with confusion, or shame, but adoration.

“I think I belong to you now,” she said.

Alex lay there trembling, her thoughts spiraling. Something in her had changed. But something deeper had changed in Hannah.

And she didn’t know if that terrified her more, or thrilled her.

Hannah pushed the blanket away and crawled up the bed, slow and reverent. Her face still glistened with the remnants of Alex’s climax. She didn’t ask. She simply leaned in and kissed her. Not a peck. Not a shy gesture. A deep, slow kiss. The kind that lingered.

Her tongue met Alex’s lips and slid along them, smearing the cum that had landed there. She licked it clean, deliberately, savoring every slick trace. Alex shivered at the sensation, the texture of her own release foreign and wrong, overwhelming but not disgusting. It was unnaturally compelling, as if tasting it echoed the voice’s whisper from inside her body. She resisted better than Hannah had, but not completely. The taste curled at the edges of her will, tugging at something deep and instinctive. Her breath caught as her mind tried to shove the sensation aside.

When the kiss finally broke, both of them breathed heavily. Hannah smiled sleepily and curled beside Alex, head resting against the soft swell of her breasts. “These are better than any pillow I’ve ever had,” she murmured, content.

Alex couldn’t respond. Her body was drained, her vision blurring at the edges. The orgasm had left her hollowed out. Her cock finally soft, her balls aching, her entire core empty in a way that no sleep could quite fill.

From now on, she knew, if she held back an orgasm like that, it would always be worse. The longer she was denied, the bigger the release. And each time, it would take more from her.

She closed her eyes. Hannah’s breathing slowed beside her.

They passed out together, one content, the other afraid.