Like silver glitter on a chintzy postcard, tiny prisms of lazy snowfall dazzle outside the train window. Their fat, flaky cousins would make a better job concealing the decaying train station of the listless town. Nothing seems to have changed here in the past ten years – at least not for the better.

Passengers flock off the platform in gloomy patches of black and grey. I never understood why people made the winter blues worse by wearing such boring, depressing colours.

Me, on the other hand, I pat my bright orange Gucci puffer jacket placed carefully beside me on the seat, I bring sunshine wherever I go, I smirk at my own bitter joke as the train is gathering speed and leaves the station with a long double whistle.

The door between the carriages opens with that loud, unnerving pressure-release sound prompting me to murmur a little unreligious prayer for my cabin to remain empty.

Thankfully, it is just the cheerful chap with his trolley service again and he looks at me with his eyes full of hope.

How could he suspect that even the previous bottle of travel size wine is still sitting unopened in my handbag. I had a few on the flight and I’m already quite mellow; if I had one more, I’d probably fall asleep to the monotone clickety-clack of the wheels. I only bought a bottle from him to break a large note and to be courteous. Some twelve-fourteen years ago, I had been working on these very same trains. Not selling wine and coffee, but last-minute hotel rooms to tourists visiting the capital. But he looks at me with his sad puppy eyes and I give in.

“Ok, just one more.”

His eyes light up and his soft pink lips turn into a smile that warms my heart a little.

“You don’t seem to be in a very festive mood,” he says trying to engage in small talk when I hand him the money for the wine.

“Just a long journey,” I lie, emphasising it with a depleted sigh.

The truth is, I don’t want to be here, and as much as I’m looking forward to seeing my family after two years, I’m dreading it just as much. I have always been the black sheep of the family, ‘the daughter gone astray’, a college dropout, who’s more interested in travelling and adventures than building a career or settling down. Whenever I’m home, I feel like the bull’s eye on the dartboard of their disapproval. And now that I foolishly told them that I’m dating someone for almost two years, I’m sure I’m going to get an earful of ‘when are you getting married’ and ‘when are you having babies’.

But there are a few things they don’t know about him.

I hear my phone buzz and I politely say goodbye and Merry Christmas to the train attendant.

How was the flight? The text reads with a grinning devil emoji at the end.

Long but ‘pleasant,’ I reply with the same purple devil.

I take it, you followed my instruction and had both the butt plug and the vibrating balls in.

Yes sir, and and...

I hate it when you tease me with your ‘and and... ‘! Spill it!

I love winding him up, so I send him a grinning cat emoji then tell him, The flight was quiet, so I’ve been even naughtier and played with myself a bit under a blanket.

Naughty girl! I just woke up with a raging hard-on and you just made it so much worse. Something has to be done about it now. Where are you now?

On the train.

Are you alone?

Yes.

I want you to roll your nipples between your fingers and send me a pic or a vid.

I don’t know which turns me on more, imagining him stroking his morning erection under his thick warm duvet or his instructions for me. I follow his order without a second thought and turning towards the window and pulling up my t-shirt, I perk up my nipples between my fingertips. When they’re nice and hard, I send him a video of pinching and pulling them roughly, the way he loves torturing them, while purring into the camera, telling him how much I miss him.

He replies, that he ‘misses me too, especially my warm mouth that is so good at morning blowies’. Then he tells me ‘he wants more, he wants to see my moist pussy.’

I can’t do that in here, I’m wearing jeans.

All I want is a picture of your sweet little pussy with your fingers inside.

His way with words to phrase his instructions always arouses me beyond sanity. Trying to ignore my concerns, I find myself activating the camera on my phone and sliding my jeans onto my knees along with my knickers.

I make a short video of parting my nether lips, coating them with the sticky mess that this little game brought on. Then just for show, I finger myself nice and deep and lick my fingers teasingly.

Are you happy now? I finish the video with a smirk right into the camera.

Good girl.

I settle back into my seat and decide to pop one of the wines open while awaiting my prize, which is a two-minute video of him stroking himself to a cum-squirting-everywhere orgasm.

So, erm, yeah, this is my ‘boyfriend.’ Not really family Christmas dinner material.

Dad picks me up from the station. He hugs me so tightly and so long that I become slightly light-headed. “It’s so great to see you again after all this Covid madness,” he tells me when he finally lets go of me.

He is the only one who loves me for who I am without being judgemental. None of my sisters ‘I’m leading my life better than you’ smugness or the ‘where is your life going’ and ‘you bring disgrace to the family’ preaching of my grandmother.

And now there is a new member of the family, whom I have to try to please: my dad’s new wife. She seems friendly and I’m happy my dad found love after my mum’s death, but let’s just say, Wilma likes to do things her way and her way only.

As it turns out, she is the last person, I have to worry about. Her son, Tommy, on the other hand, is a real pain in the backside. The first two days, just leading up to Christmas, I fail to see him without his favourite beer glued to his hand. I cannot tell if he’s an alcoholic or it is just holiday over-drinking, but he’s loud and really annoying with flat jokes and boring anecdotes from his pathetic life.

Apparently, we went to the same high school, which isn’t surprising, as our town has only one, but I just don’t remember him at all. He was one year my junior and now he talks non-stop about assumed scenes and parties we both attended.

Then he chooses no other occasion but the all-family Christmas dinner to remind me of the monster of all parties back in my senior year, which started as a NYE party and went on for three (or possibly four) days. Well, yeah, I remember that one. One of my best and definitely the most memorable house party, ever.

And the little fucker seems to know why.

He tosses the name of my then boyfriend and another few friends up in the air, spinning it, like a spider spinning a web around its victim, while wearing a smug, know-it-all grin, waiting for my reaction.

Well, yeah that party kinda turned into a bit of an orgy, so what?

When he starts saying how all of those friends allegedly slept in the same room, I stop him mid-sentence. “I think your memories are a bit blurred, you’ve had one too many drinks, haven’t you?” I strike back. “Or, like ten too many.”

“I heard very interesting things about that night...”

“Oh, did you? Fascinating. Maybe tell me later,” Or never! I grimace and gesture for him to follow me into the kitchen where I interrogate him.

“What are you playing at? It’s a damn Christmas dinner.”

“There’s no Christmas dinner without some gossip and mischief,” he grins with rows of perfect pearly whites. Under other circumstances, I’d say he’s quite handsome. Maybe. In a Ted Bundy sort of way.

“I don’t wish to be the centrepiece of entertainment. You’re just jealous, you have one girlfriend and you can’t even satisfy her,” I hiss into his arrogant face. It is just a stab in the dark based on information crumbs from my dad. Apparently, they have been on and off for the last three years.

Tom tries to come up with something to say, but I walk away, declaring the conversation to be over.

Luckily, no one of our families had been paying attention to our bickering. They are all busy trying to entertain my sister’s two hyperactive rascals, who are no doubt high on candy and kiddie punch and are wrecking the table, smearing chocolate cake everywhere to Wilma’s utter dismay. I take delight in the knowledge, that as perfect as my sister is, at least her kids are absolute little devils.

I nick a ciggie from my aunt’s handbag like I have been doing at family gatherings for the last twenty years. Sometimes she offers one and we sneak out together for a much-needed girl talk but she’s busy in the kitchen now and I really need some space. I’m a bit of an introvert and I’m not used to all this chaos.

The little front garden is covered with thick snow now and the narrow path that’s been shovelled clean takes me to the street. This is the first time I’m staying at Wilma’s house, dad only moved here about a year ago, so nothing is familiar around her house, but the streets are. We used to ride our bikes on these quiet streets when we were kids and mum and dad used to pull us on the sledge on these empty roads in wintertime. As much as I feel like I don’t belong here anymore, I have to admit I had an amazing childhood in this small quiet town.

I check my phone for messages and there’s one from Dan from over an hour ago.

How is the family dinner? Have you been up to anything naughty?

Instead of typing up all that happened, I decide to call him.

“Food was lovely and it’s nice to see my family, but the son of my dad’s new wife is a proper nuisance,” I tell him.

“You mean your stepbrother?”

“Oh, I didn’t... I didn’t even think of him like that. Thanks, you just made it so much worse. I’d rather have a warthog for a brother than him.”

“Just what has he done?” he chuckles.

I tell him about our little clash while he hmmms at the end of each sentence and laughs a little when I get to the orgy part.

“Baby, just ignore him. I hate to break it to you but he probably has the hots for you.”

“What? No, you’re just making everything so much worse, Dan. Argh, just stop talking.”

“I can prove it to you.”

“I don’t want to know!”

“Listen, just leave your knickers somewhere for him to find and see if he’ll touch ‘em.”

“God, will you just shut up?! At this point, I’m not sure which one of you is more perverted.”

I hear his cocky laughter at the other end of the line.

“I’m hanging up.”

“Talk to you later,” he tells me confidently, still laughing his head off.

I’m completely weirded out. Could it be true? I’m staring at my feet sinking into the fresh snow, when I get another message.

I’m not suggesting you do anything about it if I’m right, babes. But if he continues to be a cunt, at least you’ll have something to hold against him.

He is right. And thinking about our morning routine for the past few days - Tom banging on the bathroom door while I was brushing my teeth... It could be done so easily. Dan is right, I should just find out.

Trying to erase those troubling thoughts from my mind, I regress back to the carefree child in me and roll a few snowballs and carry them inside the house hidden in my hands. I sneak up to my sister and drop one of them into the neck of her ugly green Christmas jumper.

“Oh, you little shit!” she screams forgetting her perfect manners, shocking just about everyone in the room. She darts after me through the door, grabbing her coat on the way. Once outside she tries to overpower me and roll me into the fresh snow, like when we were kids.

I’m faster than her but not in the knee-high snow and she corners me into some chain link fence. By this time everyone gets the message that it’s snowball fight time and her two kids rush to become her little helpers, bombarding me with handfuls of powdery snow and even her husband arrives as reinforcement.

As much as I don’t envy my sister’s little domesticated life, I have to admit, her husband is a great catch: sweet, funny, handsome, strong - so damn good at holding me down for the other three members of his family to shovel snow into my face. Of course we’re all giggling and having fun as everyone joins in.

Later, dad makes snow angels with the grandkids and they build a snowman so big that it surely can be seen from space. Instead of a bucket, we have to use a huge washing up bowl for a hat and a big water bottle for the nose - to the kids absolute disapproval. At least painting it orange occupies them for the next hour.

On boxing day, I do my little trick on Tom after my morning shower. When he comes for his scheduled bathroom door banging, I ‘forget’ a pile of laundry on the top of the laundry basket with my knickers seemingly scrunched up, but covertly placed in a certain way.

Sure enough, when I go to retrieve them later they aren’t in the position I’ve left them. It shocks me and I feel a little sick. I absolutely hate it that Dan was right – again.

I don’t know what I will do with this sickening information now, but for the meantime I’m trying to avoid my step brother.

There’s so much food left from last night’s dinner, it would feed an army, yet Wilma still insists to do at least one or two fresh dishes. I’m trying to help her with things she is willing to loosen her grip over, which isn’t much. I end up peeling potatoes – if I could just hold the peeler the ‘correct way’, and loading glasses into the dishwasher – ‘into the correct basket, onto the correct side’...

Just before dinner, Tom’s girlfriend, Ari shows up. I don’t know what Ari is short for but it’s really cute. Just like the girl herself. More than cute actually. The chick has some killer curves and knows how to flaunt them.

She remind me of Marilyn Monroe, minus the curls and the beauty spot. Her smile could melt Mont Blanc. I stupidly try to introduce myself to her, only to be told by her cute sing-song tone, that we have met three years ago at Wilma’s birthday.

We engage in a bit of small talk about my journey and work but then she spends the rest of the evening entertaining or should I say babysitting tiddly Tom.

The days between the holidays are quiet, I decide to visit some old friends. One of them is Tilly, a girl I used to fool around with, just before college. She’s married to a Spanish guy and moved to Spain years ago and had a baby with him recently, so I’m a bit surprised when she suggests that the two of us go out partying on NYE.

“You can’t imagine how much I need to let my hair down,” she woos.

“Couldn’t agree more,” joins in her dark-skinned, Mediterranean-god husband rolling his eyes. “Please take her out, she’s been chewing my ears off.”

“But I can’t guarantee we will behave...” Tilly looks at me first, then the husband, grinning. I wonder, how much does he know about our past. Knowing Tilly, probably everything, yet he tells her “Just have fun, baby.”

I can’t wait for NYE and when it comes, we make an appearance at Albas, the best club in town (not that there are too many). We drink ourselves silly and dance till our stupidly high-heeled feet can’t take any more. Then we retire to one of the quieter bar sections at the front and just reminisce about the old days, while trying to keep our balance on wobbly bar stools, that are somehow getting closer and closer to one another. Now my knees are between Tilly’s thighs and I can smell the sweet liquor on her lips. It reminds me of the first time she kissed me, when we were ice skating on the lake and drank mulled wine from thermos flasks.

It’s hard to stay still and keep my composure with the memories of her soft lips flooding my brain, but it’s a small town, full of small-minded people, so we have to try to behave.

When she looks at me, I feel the familiar electric current running between us, the music stops, everything around us seems to disappear...Then she whispers into my ear, “Don’t look just yet, but there’s a blonde girl to your left, standing by the window, who is staring at us since we sat down.

Of course, tipsy-me ignores the ‘don’t look’ bit completely and I turn my head to find Ari with a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in her hand looking straight at me.

I wave at her trying to seem casual, then gesture for her to join us. I introduce her to Tilly and she tells me that she came with some friends but seem to have lost them in the crowd. Tilly offers to get us another round and walks to another section of the bar where it’s easier to be noticed and be served. “So, is she your, erm girlfriend?” Ari asks coyly.  

“We were together for a bit in senior high school,” I reply casually, lifting my drink to my mouth. “She is married now, but her hubby is ok with this... , us.” I have absolutely no idea why I’ve shared so much. I blame the six vodkas and the wine beforehand.

“What about your boyfriend?” she presses on.

I nearly choke on laughter and the last few drops of the tasteless mix of coke and melted ice. “He’s more than ok with it.”

“I’ve never been with a girl,” she admits shocking me with that bold revelation.

Her long lashes flutter excitedly, which my fuzzy brain interprets as an invitation to give her a peck on her juicy, peach-coloured lips.

A cute little ‘cat who’s got the cream’ smile settles on her face.

“Get a room, you two,” Tilly calls out slamming the heavy-bottomed tumblers onto the bar in front of us.

“After these drinks, why don’t we go to mine?” Ari suggests with a naughty glint in her eye. “Drinks are free and chairs are much more comfortable,” she reasons.

“Do you have better music too?” Tilly grimaces. She hates disco and club music, barely tolerating it when she’s pissed and wouldn’t miss an opportunity to let everyone know.

I grin at her in a ‘we’re not going there for the music, silly’ kind of way and watch her gulp down her fresh drink in about five seconds.

Ari’s place is a cosy little one bedroom flat which is peppered with things that clearly belong to Tom. It feels a bit crazy, given what’s likely be in the cards for us tonight. After as many drinks as I had though, with a shrug of a shoulder, I decided that I won’t let that bother me too much. In fact, this is an even sweeter revenge than finding out that he’s a pervy pantie sniffer.

Ari pops a bottle of fizzy open and while pouring us a glass each she looks at me secretively, “I trust, this little after-party stays between us. It would be a bit weird if Tom found out.”

“Yes, very.” I roll my eyes.

“I mean... I don’t think I’ll stay with him much longer, but...”

“Mmm, you deserve so much better than that clown, girl!”

“He’s pretty good in bed, I have to give him that,” she laughs pouting her sex symbol like lips.

“Argh, too much info, girl!” Just picturing Tom naked twists my face into disgust.

“Too much talking in general,” Tilly intervenes on her familiar purring tone that I recognise as her dirty, bedroom voice. And sure enough, when I look at her she’s pulling out a pair of handcuffs from her handbag like a magician conjuring up a rabbit.

“How the hell did you sneak that through the club’s security?” I inquire. Because with Tilly, it’s not the ‘what’ and the ‘why’ that shocks me, but the ‘how’.

“Every bad girl needs a double-bottomed handbag,” she informs me matter-of-factly.

“Damn, I forgot just how naughty you were,” I smirk at her, remembering all the mischief she used to pull back in the days. Then I turn to Ari, “You don’t know what you got yourself into.”

Our sexy host sips her drink nervously, not taking her eyes off the silver toy that is now spread out on the table like an ill omen.

“Just a lil’ harmless fun,” Tilly tells her in a hushed tone. She stands up and walks behind her. “You can stop me.” Then she looks at me and corrects herself, “us, any time you want.”

I watch Tilly undress Ari from the corner of my eye as I stare at those cuffs. If it wasn’t for this off chance meet with Ari, I would be wearing them tonight. How could I have forgotten that she was always into a bit of bondage and used to tie me up to her white, wooden, four-poster bed? The bed, her dad made her when she was still his innocent little princess, completed with fairy lights and a shelf for her teddies – originally. Later she used it for her locked chest which contained her diary and sex toys.

I used to call her Gremlin back then, because she could transform from this innocent girl next door, to an absolute sex-monster when the night came, sporting her huge black dildo that she liked stretching my pussy with.

I swallow hard looking at little innocent Ari – now sitting on the chair all naked – and wonder whether it was a good idea to get Tilly involved into ‘defiling’ her. But none of this was planned and it was all Ari’s idea. So, what can I do, but assist my crazy ex-girlfriend?

She’s is twisting Ari’s arms gently behind her back and cuffs them to the back of the chair. With a sudden rough force, she spins the chair around making a loud scraping sound against the tiled floor.

“Oh my god, Kat! Look at those tits!” she grunts.

The first thing I notice is, how our blond little plaything is staring at the floor. Objectifying her like that seemingly fills her with embarrassment. But at the same time, her excited little squirming tells me she likes it just as much.

Tilly is right, her boobs are scandalously sexy. She has the type of breasts, where the entire areola and nipple area looks like a small raised, puffy mound. Who wouldn’t kill to suckle such gorgeous tits? Her nipple is hardened and more pronounced due to the chilly temperature in her kitchen.

I never knew I had a thing for that shape, till I’ve just seen them. Now, looking at them isn’t enough, I have to touch them, stroke them, feel them. I have to taste them, feast on them.

“Mmmm, hey, leave sum fo’ me,” Tilly purrs nudging me out of the way, taking one delicious cupcake for herself. That lightens the mood and all three of us make little noises that are somewhere between giggling, moaning and wet smooching sounds. Ari is staring at the ceiling, emitting a low humming sound, making all of her scrumptious body vibrate in bliss.

My tongue draws a long smooth line from her armpit, up her neck to her earlobe, nuzzling her helix. I purr into her ear, “You love this, don’t you?”

Her reply is the same humming sound, just deeper, more guttural.

“You little slut,” Tilly teases her, giving her a mighty, flat-palm slap on her naked thigh.

“Fuck!” Ari jumps, her eyes bolting open. She stares at the smirking hellcat, who, like a demon, seems to be feeding on her shock.

In that instant, I realise how much I’ve been missing Tilly’s cruel ways and admit to myself that I’m a little envious of Ari - tied to the chair, helpless against her wicked games.

“Open your legs.” Tilly snaps at the voice of an army sergeant. She doesn’t even wait for the shocked girl to obey, she’s forcing her legs wide open. A tidy little perfect porn star pussy greets us with a neat blond triangle patch and glistening pink labia.

“Look at you, making a right mess on your kitchen chair.“ Tilly shakes her head and tuts disapprovingly. “Maybe your boyfriend will sit here tomorrow morning and eat his cereal, his little slut’s stain on it unbeknownst to him.”

Our shy plaything is staring at the floor again. So adorable.

“Yes, you should really be ashamed of yourself,” I chime in, drawing out every syllable, while tapping, playing her love-buttons like piano keys. You shouldn’t be enjoying this like you do...

Tilly is rough-handling her nipples, pulling, pinching them, almost as if she was trying to rip them off, whilst I’m gently stroking her inner thigh with one hand and her silky-smooth nether lips and clit with the other.

The kaleidoscopic palette of sensations we wrap her in is driving her crazy – her eyes are shut, her back is curved, her conscious mind seemingly floating somewhere high above. She’s on a flight to seventh heaven. Sliding my fingers into her moist craving to the rhythm of her bucking hips, I’m tempted to let her soar up there.

But, I have learned from the best, when it comes to operating this roller coaster ride of pleasure. I cruelly deny her that sweet release.

Mmm, what can I say... I get off on the look in her eyes when I abruptly stop her launch. I seek her eyes out, just watching her poker-faced, straining to hide an almost orgasmic smirk. When I close her legs, as if closing a precious book after a thought-provoking chapter, she parts her trembling lips in confusion and frustration.

I can’t help but let that tidal wave smirk take over me, assuring her, that ‘yes I know, you haven’t cum yet’ and ‘yes I did it on purpose.’

As I said, I learned from the best.

My maleficent mentor looks at me with such pride and love in her eyes that I’m convinced, a whole parallel deviant universe was once born from the ocean of that blue. And I’m the governor of that beautiful new world.

I pursue her lips and savour them with years of unsatisfied hunger for their softness. For a minute, we forget about Ari and I claim Tilly as mine once again. I tear her clothes off and all I want to do is to taste her.

I want to, I need to find out whether playing her dominant ways still makes her pussy drenched like it used to. I want to feel her delicate fingers combing through my hair as I collapse onto my knees and savour her nectar.

“Mmmm, I wanted to do this since I saw you again, there, right in front of your husband.” I look up at her playfully.

“I can assure you, Jorge would not mind that at all.” She grins back at me. “You have no idea how much he’s bugging me ever since...” she chuckles.

“Mmmm, I bet he does. I bet he wants to see me tongue his wife’s delicious pussy,” I tease as I do so, blowing gentle kisses on her sensitive clit then lapping up her sweet honey. “I’d lick you nice and wet and watch him fuck you like you deserve, babe.”

It used to be our biggest fantasy back in the days, to involve a guy, which sadly only materialised once. Bringing her husband into the picture would be a whole new level of filth.

“Fuck, mmm, yeah, that would be so hot,” she agrees.

My mind is focused on that image now and I’m angry at myself for not acting earlier, not calling her earlier, forgetting how much I’m into girls, how much I used to be into her.

It’s not like I’ve been a saint for the last ten years. I’ve experienced lots of things, went down lots of dark alleys, especially with Dan recently. But this, being with her was always a part of me I’ve missed without realising it.

“We have a different plaything tonight though,” she reminds me, nodding towards Ari, pulling me up from my knees.

I blame the drinks for my light-headedness and being so distracted.

“A beautiful, eager little plaything.” She continues stroking Ari’s cheeks, then touching her body feather-lightly at random places: her arm, her neck, her inner thighs, around her areolas, carefully avoiding her hard, attention-craving nipples.

While she’s poking and teasing Ari, we kiss in front of her and pleasure each other shamelessly just to show the restrained, helpless girl, what she is missing. I’m all over Tilly, I have ten years to make up for.

Ari’s breath is heavy and ragged, she’s trying to hide the frustration boiling inside of her. Her cheeks are puffy like a little girl who is about to cry because all her friends are playing on the carousel that is now spinning too fast and she’s been left out.

My fingers are lost in Tilly, searching for those heavenly sensitive spots that make her arch her back and look at me with yearning through millions of sparkling azure stars.

She’s trying to push me away, but I’m on my knees again, where I belong. Between her sweet legs, making her lose her breath and composure.

“Fuck,” she curses at me making me smirk. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I wanted to,” I continue grinning like the tipsy Cheshire Cat I am. “You still can cum like five times, like you used to, can’t you?”

She lets out a small laugh and we both look at Ari to catch her reaction because I just completely made that up. However, the threat of such a long night ahead brings on the desired effect on the face of our volunteer slave girl.

“You want to be touched too, don’t you, poor little girl?” Tilly teases our neglected captive.

“Yes,” she whispers.

We share a glance and start stroking her on her most sensitive areas, her neck, her inner thigh, even her breasts but being careful to avoid her pussy.

“Like this?” Tilly grins at her.

Ari shakes her head but remains silent.

“How do you want us to touch you?” I inquire licking my fingers provocatively in front of her; fingers that are still glistening with my girlfriend’s juices.

“Make me cum please. Make me cum like you made Tilly cum. Please.”

This time Tilly chimes in, offering her fingers to Ari that are coated with my nectar, “You have to earn that, you know.” She walks behind the chair and releases her from the handcuffs. “It’s my girlfriend’s turn to cum first,” she gestures towards me with a smirk. “Let’s move onto the bedroom.”

Now, standing up, the world is spinning a bit faster than I anticipated and I’m glad Tilly instructs me to sit on the bed and helps me remove the few remaining clothes I still have on.

I pull Ari with me into bed and I suddenly realise that apart from that tiny peck in the club I haven’t tasted her luscious lips yet. I attack her in a play wrestle, pinning her arms into her soft bed. I force my mouth onto hers while she giggles and tries to fight me off.

“Stay still you silly bitch!” I growl at her between attempts of biting her lips and snaking my tongue into her mouth.

“Good job, you have a metal bed frame,” Tilly scoffs, gathering the squirming girl’s arms and cuffing them over her head. “Then again, I do have ropes in my handbag too, just in case,” she muses making me grin at her.

“What else do you have in there? I’m intrigued.”

“I was thinking to bring your favourite black dildo, but that would have been a stretch for the double bottom...”

“You still have that monster?”

“Yup. And since I told Jorge, it used to be your favourite, it’s his favourite now.”

While nothing she says surprises me the least, I still feel gobsmacked to be used in their fantasies like that. “Fucking hell, Tilly, that’s just out of order.”

She laughs at me with the laugh I used to be in love with. “Yeah, I know.”

At this point, we all figure that if not on the first day of, but at some point in 2022, Tilly will want to see her husband’s dick inside of me, and I can’t even begin to describe how does that make me feel.

“You know what else is out of order?” she purrs while stroking Ari’s legs and opening them to finally have a taste of our little plaything. Neither of us utters a word but she continues her molasses-monologue regardless. “All three of us are cheating on our respective partners... So out of order... But so fucking delicious... “