We...talk a lot.

Sanya giggled, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. "We, uh, we talk a lot," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "And we... well, you know."

Fatima leaned in, her massive breasts pressing against the fabric of her shirt like two eager puppies. "Oh, I do," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But it's so hard to be apart, isn't it?"

Sanya's laugh was like a bell, tinkling with the promise of unspoken desires. "Yeah," she giggled, her hand playing with a lock of her hair. "It really is."

Fatima leaned back, her chair groaning under the weight of her ample frame. "Well," she said, her eyes never leaving Sanya, "I can totally understand why. You're one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?"

You felt your face heat up, a blush spreading from your cheeks down to your neck. "Uh, thanks?"

Fatima's laugh was like a velvet waterfall, rich and deep. "Don't be so modest," she said, her eyes flicking back to you. "Sanya's the envy of every girl on this floor. They'd kill for a taste of what you've got."

You gulped, trying to process what she had just said. Did she just imply that other girls were interested in your girlfriend? And why was that making your cock throb harder? You felt a strange mix of jealousy and excitement, your mind racing with images of Sanya being taken by other women. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of lust that had settled in your brain like a thick fog. "Thanks," you managed to murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.