Kneeling naked before the coach, who sits on the couch, his cock spent and limp after his release, I feel my pearl throb with unfulfilled need. It aches for his touch, tongue, and lips to bring me to the same ecstasy he just experienced as his cum adorned my face.

Mrs. Jones sits beside me, her bare, ample breasts rising and falling with each breath. I steal a glance at her, my heart racing as excitement mingles with a shy flutter in my chest at the thought of the coach eating my pussy while she watches.

Her eyes lock with mine, and she whispers, "Go on, Amy. Let John pleasure you. You deserve it for being such a good girl."

I nod, a surge of heat pooling between my thighs as I meet his gaze. My body trembles, my need is tangible in the air between us.

"Why don't you lie down on the couch, sweetheart?" Mrs. Jones suggests, her voice soft and encouraging. "John will take good care of you."

I slowly get up from the floor, my exposed body quivering with desire, and sit on the edge of the couch beside the coach, feeling the heat of his gaze on my skin.

With a deep breath, I lean back on the couch, my head resting on the armrest. My thighs press together, and the sensitive skin on my inner thighs creates a delicious friction that causes a tingling sensation to shoot up my spine.

With each rapid breath, my chest heaves, and my nipples harden into sharp points that beg to be touched. Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I await the touch of a man on whom I have a massive crush.

Mrs. Jones settles on the floor beside me, her closeness both comforting and arousing. "Spread your legs, sweetheart," she coaxes. "Let John admire your beautiful nether lips."

With a hesitant slowness, I part my legs, my heart hammering in my chest as I worry that my prominent pussy lips, swollen with arousal, will appear too puffed for his liking.

His gaze fixes on my wet folds, his eyes darkening with desire. "So pretty," he rasps.

"Indeed, she is," Mrs. Jones purrs, her fingers trailing across my stomach and dipping lower to circle my throbbing clit. Her touch sends shivers through me, and I moan softly. She dips two fingers inside me, eliciting another moan. "See how responsive she is, John? So eager for your touch."

The coach nods, his gaze fixated on my pussy, mesmerized by the sight of Mrs. Jones pleasuring me. She withdraws her fingers, glistening with my juices, and brings them to her mouth. "So wet and tasty," she purrs, licking her fingers clean. "You're in for a real treat, John."

My heart stutters as the coach moves between my legs, his fingers gently exploring my labia. He examines every crease and fold with the devotion of an artist, spreading my wetness as if it were a canvas waiting to be painted.

Mrs. Jones watches intently. "Take your time, John. Amy's all yours to enjoy." 

I bite my lip as I watch him lean in, his breath ghosting against my skin.

"I hope I smell good," I think, holding my breath as he inhales, my body tensing up.

I can feel the heat of his mouth hovering over me as the coach gives in to his desire and takes a long, slow lick from bottom to top. A grin spreads across his face as his lips descend, enveloping my clit. His tongue swirls firmly, sending thrills of pleasure through me, and soft moans escape my lips as I arch my back. It feels incredible, and the sight of the coach between my legs makes me want to moan even louder.

"Consider this as a part of your birthday celebration," Mrs. Jones teases, clearly enjoying the show she orchestrated.

"Happy 18th birthday, Amy," the coach whispers before his tongue dives into my wetness, causing me to gasp with pleasure.

I can't believe this is really happening. It feels so good! Mrs. Jones joins in, her mouth latching onto my nipple, her moans vibrating against my sensitive flesh. She nibbles, sucks, and licks my stiff peak, aching for more of her attention. Having them both focus on me is pure ecstasy.

"Oh, my god!" I gasp, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of their tongues and lips on my most sensitive areas.

"She tastes divine, doesn't she?" Mrs. Jones remarks.

The coach grumbles his agreement, his mouth devouring my pussy with abandon. He inserts his fingers slowly, one at a time, until three fingers are buried deep inside me, stretching me to my limits.

His fingers explore my walls, his touch deliberate as he searches for that sweet spot. With each thrust, his fingers dig deeper until he presses against that sensitive area, causing me to cry out in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck," I moan as the coach continues to massage my G-spot, and waves of pleasure ripple through me.

"Mmm, you're exquisite," the coach murmurs between licks, his fingers bending perfectly to massage that sensitive bundle of nerves. "So responsive, so eager."

His tongue laps at my swollen bud while his fingers thrust inside me, teasing my special spot with tantalizing strokes. It's a delicate dance, with his fingers curling and stroking, his tongue flicking and swirling, making my thighs tremble with desire.

While Mrs. Jones licked my pussy last night, her tongue caressed me with gentle sensuality, her touch evoking a deep pleasure. But the coach's approach is different—it's ravenous, urgent. His tongue feasts on me with a raw, primal need, as if he can't get enough. His fingers plunge into my depths, his touch rough yet exhilarating.

Mrs. Jones lavishes attention on my right nipple, her mouth suckling and her hands kneading my breast. Meanwhile, the coach tantalizes my clit with desperate hunger, his tongue licking with relentless passion.

The intensity of their desire for me gives me a high I never knew was possible, and with another powerful thrust of his fingers, I surrender to the pleasure. My sensitive clit throbs against his tongue as my body convulses, tiny explosions of pleasure erupting across my skin, and my mind drifts into a haze of ecstasy. My wetness flows freely, and the coach greedily laps up every drop, his tongue tireless in its pursuit of my essence.

"Such a good girl," Mrs. Jones whispers in my ear, her breath hot against my skin. "You're doing so well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones," is all I manage to gasp out before my body shudders with another wave of pleasure, the coach gulping down my arousal with a satisfied groan.

As I lie on the couch, spent and satisfied, Mrs. Jones gently strokes my hair. "I'm so proud of you, my sweet, naughty girl," she murmurs softly.

I smile up at her, feeling truly seen and cherished in a way I never had before.

"Watching you two has certainly aroused me," Mrs. Jones admits.

The coach rises from the couch, his cock standing at attention as he moves towards Mrs. Jones.

"I can see you feel the same way, John." She giggles as he offers her his hand to help her up from the floor.

Mrs. Jones presses a gentle kiss on the top of my head before standing up. "Just relax and savor the afterglow, honey. We'll leave you to rest."

I watch, entranced, as they walk up the stairs, their desire for each other palpable.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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