They’ve always had this presence calm, confident, magnetic. It was the kind of energy that made me feel seen and a little bit off-balance, like they knew exactly what they were doing long before I caught on. I’d house-sat for them a few times, shared a few glasses of wine here and there, nothing overt. But the looks lingered. The touches stayed just a little too long.

Still, I told myself I was imagining it. That nothing would happen. Until the night it did.

It started simple. They poured me a drink and asked me how I was doing really doing. The kind of question you only ask when you already know the answer, or when you're looking to peel someone open. She sat close, her thigh brushing mine. He stood behind me while I talked, fingers grazing my shoulder, the back of my neck. Little things that shouldn’t have made my breath catch… but they did.

I don’t know if I said yes with words, or if my body just answered for me. But when they asked if I wanted to join them in the bedroom, I followed without hesitation. I wasn’t nervous. I was ready even if I hadn’t fully admitted it to myself yet.

She kissed me first. Slow, but claiming. There was nothing hesitant about it. She tilted my chin and pressed her mouth to mine like I already belonged to her. And when I felt his hands sliding up my thighs, under my dress, I didn’t flinch. I spread my legs.

Clothes disappeared quickly after that. One moment I was standing there, and the next I was on my knees, looking up at both of them. Her hand was tangled in my hair, guiding my head to where he stood, cock already hard and leaking. She told me how good I looked like that obedient, messy, eager. I moaned around him the second he slid into my mouth, and she kept whispering encouragements while I choked on his cock.

I was their toy. And they made sure I knew it.

They used me like they’d done it a hundred times before taking turns with my mouth, my pussy, my body. She rode my face while he filled me from behind, and all I could do was moan and whimper between them. I was dripping. Overstimulated. Owned.

Every touch, every thrust, every word was laced with control. They didn’t rush. They took their time. Made me beg for it. Made me thank them when I came. And when I finally collapsed between them, soaked and shaking, they just held me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I’ve never felt so used. So wanted. So completely filled physically and mentally.

And the worst part?

I can’t stop hoping they’ll ask me to come back.