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I didn’t mention the stepfather. Not yet.

We laughed a lot. She had a dry, filthy sense of humour that matched mine. When she leaned forward to refill my glass her top shifted and I caught the smooth curve of one small, perfect breast. I felt my nipples tighten inside my bra and had to cross my legs.

By the third glass I was flushed and reckless.

“You’re staring,” she said softly, not accusing, just noticing.

“Sorry. You’re just… really beautiful.”

Alesha’s smile turned slower, more knowing. “So are you. Especially when you blush like that.”

The air between us thickened. I could hear my own heartbeat. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering against my cheek. I turned my face into her palm without thinking. That was all it took.

She kissed me.

It started soft, just lips testing, tasting the wine on each other, then deepened fast. Her tongue slid against mine and a low sound escaped my throat. I climbed onto her lap without breaking the kiss, straddling her slim thighs. Her hands slid under my top, warm palms mapping my back, then around to cup my breasts through the thin bra. When she pinched both nipples at once I moaned into her mouth.

“Fuck, you’re responsive,” she murmured against my lips. “Been a while?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted, grinding down against the heat between her legs. “But not with a woman. Not like this.”

Her eyes darkened. “Good. Then I get to show you properly.”

She stood, lifting me, with surprising strength, from the sofa and guided me the few steps to her bedroom. We undressed each other slowly at first, then with growing urgency. When her leggings and knickers came off I stared. She was completely smooth, pussy neat and already glistening. I dropped to my knees on the rug and pressed my face between her thighs without waiting for permission.

The first taste of her made me dizzy, clean, slightly sweet, pure arousal. I licked long slow stripes from her entrance up to her clit, then sucked the little bud between my lips. Alesha’s fingers tangled in my hair and she groaned.

“That’s it… fuck, use your tongue. Get it right in there.”

I did. I pushed my tongue inside her as deep as I could, fucking her with it while my nose rubbed her clit. She was so wet it ran down my chin. When I added two fingers she clenched around them and swore under her breath.

“Christ, Lacy… you’re a natural little cunt-eater.”

I moaned against her, the filthy praise going straight to my own neglected pussy. She pulled me up after a few minutes, pushed me onto the bed and climbed over me in a sixty-nine. The moment her mouth settled over my clit I almost came. She licked me like she’d been starving for it, firm, relentless strokes, two fingers curling inside me, a third teasing my arsehole. I buried my face back between her thighs and matched her greed, sucking her clit while I finger-fucked her hard.

We came almost together. She flooded my tongue with a quiet, shaky cry; I followed seconds later, thighs clamping around her head, pussy pulsing in strong waves. She kept licking me through it until I had to push her away, oversensitive and laughing breathlessly.

We lay tangled afterwards, sweaty and smiling.

“That was…” I started.

“Only the beginning,” she finished. “Stay the night.”

I did.

Over the next few weeks the friendship and the fucking tangled so tightly I could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. We had coffee most mornings if our schedules matched. We went for walks along the river. We talked about work, about families, about nothing important. And almost every night one of us ended up in the other’s bed.

Alesha liked to talk dirty almost as much as I did. One evening she had me on all fours on her living-room rug, two fingers buried in my cunt and her thumb in my arse, while she murmured against my ear.

“Listen to how wet you are. Filthy little thing. Does your stepfather know you come over here and let your neighbour finger both your holes?”

I gasped. I hadn’t told her yet. She only laughed.

“Thin walls, sweetheart. I’ve heard him. Heard you begging him to fuck your arse harder. Don’t worry, I liked it. Made me finger myself while I listened.”

The confession made me come so hard I saw stars. After that there were no secrets left.

Sometimes she made me tell her every detail while she used a thick purple dildo on me, how my stepfather liked to stretch my throat until I gagged, how he preferred to come in my arse so he could watch it leak out, how I’d started texting him photos of my used holes after he left. Alesha would get so turned on she’d straddle my face and ride my tongue until she squirted.

Other nights were softer but no less filthy. She’d lie between my legs for an hour, just licking and sucking and praising how pretty my cunt looked when it was swollen and messy. I’d return the favour until her thighs trembled and she had to push me away, laughing that she couldn’t take any more.

One rainy Saturday we spent the entire day in bed. She edged me for what felt like hours with her mouth and fingers and a little bullet vibrator, refusing to let me cum until I was sobbing and begging. When she finally allowed it I came so hard I squirted across her sheets. She licked every drop, then kissed me so I could taste myself.

“My perfect little slut neighbour,” she whispered. “I’m keeping you.”

I believed her.

The stepfather still came over, of course. Sometimes Alesha was out; sometimes she was deliberately home, listening. Once, after he’d fucked me and left, she knocked on my door within minutes, pushed me against the wall and dropped to her knees to clean his cum out of my cunt with her tongue. I came again just from the filth of it.

We talked about everything, her childhood, my job, her job at the CPS, the quiet power of being desired by both a man old enough to be my father and a woman who looked at me like she wanted to devour me. Normal conversation mixed seamlessly with the dirtiest confessions.

One time I got her to dress in her work clothes the wig and gown of a barrister. Those combined with a tight fitting crisp white blouse, tight black skirt, stockings and high heels was very, very sexy. I took off her skirt, pants and bra and we fucked with her still in the rest of her court wear clothes. She said she’d never be able to go into court again with out her panties getting wet.

“Do you ever think about bringing him over while I’m here?” she asked one night, three fingers slowly pumping in and out of me.

“Yes,” I admitted, hips rocking. “I think about you both using me. Him in my arse, you sitting on my face. Or him fucking me while you sit on his face and make him eat you.”

Alesha’s eyes glittered. “We’ll do it one day. When you’re ready.”

I wasn’t sure I ever would be, but the fantasy alone was enough to make me cum around her fingers with a broken cry.

Months passed. The friendship deepened into something that felt dangerously like love, even as the sex stayed raw and shameless. She taught me how to use my hands and mouth better than any man ever had or has. I told her how much I liked being called a dirty little whore while she ruined me. We laughed as much as we fucked. We cooked together naked. We fell asleep sticky and satisfied more nights than not.

One evening, after a particularly long session that left us both shaking, she traced lazy circles around my nipple and said quietly, “You know this started as just neighbours being friendly, right?”

I smiled against her shoulder. “And now?”

“Now I can’t imagine not having your cunt available whenever I want it.” She kissed the top of my head. “Or your laugh. Or the way you look when you’re about to cum.”

I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at her properly, the dark eyes, the full mouth still shiny from eating me, the elegant little body that had become as familiar as my own.

“Same,” I said simply.

She pulled me down for another kiss, slow and deep, and I felt her hand slide between my legs again, two fingers slipping easily into the mess she’d already made of me.

“Next round?” she murmured against my lips.

I opened my thighs wider in answer.

Outside, London carried on. Inside our two small flats, the rest of the world had stopped mattering. I had a good job, a secret older lover who still visited when I texted, and a gorgeous neighbour who had become the centre of almost every filthy fantasy I owned.

And I was only just getting started.

It was on a rainy Thursday evening that I decided, while I was still sticky from Alesha’s tongue, it was time.

We were lying in her bed, the sheets kicked down around our ankles, my head on her bare stomach, her fingers lazily combing through my hair. The taste of her was still on my lips. Outside, London traffic hissed on wet tarmac.

“I want you to meet him,” I said quietly.

Alesha’s hand stilled. “Your stepdad?”

“Yeah.” I tilted my face up so I could see her expression. “Properly. Not just hearing him through the wall. I want to watch your face when you see the cock that’s been wrecking me for nearly two years. And I want him to see you.”

She was silent for a few seconds, then a slow, wicked smile curved her full mouth. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly. I’ve been thinking about it every time he fucks me lately. Imagining you walking in while he’s still inside me. Or better, both of you using me at the same time.”

Alesha’s fingers resumed their slow path through my hair, but tighter now. “And if he doesn’t like the idea of sharing his dirty little stepdaughter with the neighbour?”

“Then we don’t do it. But I think he will. He’s always liked how shameless I am. This is just the next step.”

She leaned down and kissed me, slow and deep, tasting herself on my tongue. When she pulled back, her eyes were darker. “Text him. Tonight. Tell him to come over Saturday. My place. I’ll cook. We’ll see what happens.”

My heart was already racing. I reached for my phone on the bedside table and typed with slightly shaking fingers.

Saturday night. My neighbour’s flat. Come meet her. 8pm. Wear something easy to take off. I want you both.

He replied within three minutes.

Fuck. You sure? Yes. Then I’ll be there. Don’t start without me.

I showed Alesha the screen. She laughed, low and filthy. “Cocky bastard. I like him already.”

Saturday arrived slower than any day had a right to. I spent the afternoon in Alesha’s flat helping her cook, simple things, pasta, a big salad, garlic bread, a decent bottle of red and another of white in the fridge. We showered together afterwards, soaping each other slowly, kissing under the spray, but we didn’t let it go further than heavy petting. We wanted to be wound tight when he arrived.

I dressed in a sexy little black dress that buttoned down the front and nothing underneath except a pair of black sheer hold-ups. Alesha wore a silky deep-green slip that stopped mid-thigh and made her medium-brown skin glow. Her dark hair was loose and slightly wavy. She looked edible.

At ten to eight the intercom buzzed. I went to answer it while Alesha poured wine.

My stepfather stepped into the hallway, the man who had been fucking me since I was eighteen and a half, the one who’d taken his stepdaughters cherry, tall, still solidly built, in his late forties, dark hair going a little silver at the temples, the same hungry eyes that always made my cunt clench. He was wearing dark jeans and a black shirt, sleeves rolled up. I could already see the outline of his cock against the denim.

“Hi,” I said, a little breathless.

He leaned down and kissed me, not a fatherly peck, a real kiss with tongue, right there in the shared corridor. When he pulled back he murmured against my mouth, “You smell like her already.”

“Good.” I took his hand and led him inside.

Alesha was standing by the small dining table, two glasses of red in her hands. She looked him up and down openly, the same way she looked at me when she was deciding which hole to use first.

“So you’re the stepdad,” she said, voice calm, almost amused. “The one who taught our girl how to take it in the arse.”

He didn’t flinch. He took the glass she offered, their fingers brushing. “And you’re the neighbour who’s been making her scream loud enough for everyone to hear through the walls.”

Alesha’s smile widened. “Guilty. Sit. Drink. Let’s see if we can be civilised for five minutes before we ruin her.”

We sat. The conversation started almost normal, his work, her past cases, my internship, the ridiculous price of flats in Pimlico. But every sentence carried an undercurrent. His eyes kept dropping to the open collar of my dress, to the way Alesha’s slip clung to her small breasts. Alesha watched the way his hand rested on my thigh as we sat together on the sofa, thumb stroking higher and higher until it brushed the bare skin above my stocking.

We moved to the little table to eat dinner. By the time we’d finished the pasta my knickers (if I’d been wearing any) would have been ruined. I wasn’t wearing any.

Alesha stood to clear the plates. As she passed behind my chair she leaned down and bit the side of my neck, hard enough to mark. “Go and sit back on the sofa,” she told me quietly. “Both of you. I’m going to watch you with him first.”

My stepfather needed no further invitation. He stood, pulled me up, and walked me the few steps to Alesha’s sofa. He sat and tugged me down so I straddled his lap, facing him. The dress rode up around my hips. His hands slid under the fabric and found my bare arse, squeezing hard.

“No knickers,” he growled. “Dirty girl.”

“I wanted to be ready.”

He kissed me properly then, deep, claiming, the way he always did when we were alone. I could feel Alesha’s eyes on us. The knowledge made me grind down against the hard ridge in his jeans. He groaned into my mouth and one hand came between us to free his cock. It sprang up thick and already leaking, the same cock that had stretched me open so many times I knew every vein by heart.

I didn’t wait. I rose up on my knees, guided him to my entrance, and sank down in one slow, wet slide. We both hissed at the feeling. I was soaked from hours of anticipation; he slid in to the root with almost no resistance.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my throat. “Still the tightest little cunt.”

Behind me I heard Alesha’s soft laugh. “She’s even tighter when I finger her arse at the same time. Want me to show you?”

I looked over my shoulder. Alesha had stripped out of the slip and was completely naked, petite and perfect, one hand already between her own legs. She walked over, knelt on the sofa beside us, and reached down between my cheeks. Two slim fingers found my arsehole, already soft from earlier play, and first one and then a second pushed inside while I was still full of his cock.

The dual stretch made me cry out. My stepfather’s hands clamped on my hips and he started fucking up into me in short, hard thrusts while Alesha worked her fingers in time. The wet sounds were obscene. I braced my hands on his shoulders and rode him, head thrown back, moaning freely.

“Talk to her,” Alesha ordered him. “Tell her what a slut she is for bringing you here.”

He didn’t need encouragement. “You’re my filthy little slut stepdaughter,” he growled, thrusting harder. “Bringing in your neighbour so she can finger fuck your arse while I fuck your greedy cunt. Look at you taking it. You love being shared, don’t you?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—”

Alesha leaned in and kissed me, swallowing the rest of the words. Her free hand pinched my nipples through the open dress until they ached. When she pulled back she looked at my stepfather.

“Switch,” she said calmly. “I want her mouth on me while you take her from behind.”

He lifted me off his cock with a wet sound. Cum wasn’t a problem yet; he was still holding back. I scrambled onto all fours on the sofa cushions. Alesha sat at the end, legs spread, and pulled my face straight between her thighs. I licked her open, greedy, tasting how wet she’d got from watching. Behind me my stepfather knelt, rubbed the head of his cock through my folds, then pushed back into my cunt in one smooth thrust.

The rhythm was perfect, him fucking me hard enough that each stroke pushed my mouth tighter against Alesha’s pussy. She held my hair and ground against my tongue, telling me in a low, filthy voice exactly how good I looked with a cock in me and my face buried in her cunt.

“That’s it, baby. Eat me while he uses you. You’re such a perfect little whore for us.”

I came first, shaking, moaning into her. The contractions around his cock pulled him closer; he had to slow down and breathe through it. Alesha came second, thighs clamping around my head, a rush of wetness coating my chin. Only then did my stepfather pull out.

“Arse,” he said roughly. “I want her arse while you watch.”

Alesha’s eyes lit up. She reached for the small bottle of lube she kept in the side table (we’d been using it for weeks) and handed it to him. I felt the cool drizzle between my cheeks, then his thick fingers working me open, one, then two, scissoring. When he replaced them with the head of his cock I pushed back, hungry for the burn.

He sank in slowly, the way he always did the first time each night, letting me feel every inch. Once he was buried he stayed still for a moment, hand stroking my spine.

“Still so fucking tight,” he muttered. “Even after all the times I’ve wrecked this hole.”

Alesha moved so she was lying on her back beneath me, head between my spread knees, and started licking my clit while he fucked my arse. The combination was devastating. I dropped onto my forearms, face pressed into the sofa cushion, and just took it, his thick cock stretching my arse, her clever tongue on my swollen clit, both of them talking over and around me.

“Look at her arse taking you,” Alesha murmured between licks. “She’s dripping on my face. Such a messy girl.”

“She always is when I fuck her arse,” he answered, voice strained. “Goes completely cock-drunk. Don’t you, Lacy?”

“Yes….please….harder….”

He gave it to me harder. The wet slap of his hips against my cheeks filled the small flat. Alesha never stopped licking. I came again with a broken cry, cunt spasming around nothing, arse clenching rhythmically around his cock. He followed a few strokes later, burying himself deep and flooding me with thick, hot cum. I felt every pulse.

He stayed inside me while the aftershocks faded, then slowly pulled out. Alesha immediately pulled me down so she could lick the mess leaking from my open hole, tongue pushing inside to get every drop. My stepfather watched, stroking his half-hard cock, already recovering.

We moved to the bedroom after that. The night stretched. He fucked my cunt while I ate Alesha. Alesha sat on his face and made him tongue her until she came, while I rode his cock in reverse and reached down to play with his balls. At one point they had me on my back, Alesha straddling my face, my stepfather between my legs, both of them using me at the same time while I could only moan and shake and take it.

There was laughter between the filth, jokes about the thin walls, about how the rest of the building must think I was running a brothel, about the absurdity of a stepdad and the neighbour tag-teaming the same twenty-year-old intern. Normal conversation slipped in during the water breaks and the cigarette Alesha smoked out of the window afterwards: work stories, a funny client email, whether the pasta had needed more salt. Then the heat would rise again and the dirty talk would come back like a tide.

By three in the morning we were all exhausted, tangled in Alesha’s bed, my body marked with handprints and bite marks and drying cum. My stepfather’s fingers were still loosely curled around one of my breasts. Alesha’s head was on my shoulder.

“Well,” Alesha said into the quiet, voice rough from moaning. “That answers the question of whether we get on.”

My stepfather gave a low, satisfied laugh. “Next time I want to watch you two together first. Properly. Then join in when I can’t stand it anymore.”

I smiled into the dark, sore and sticky and happier than I could ever remember being.

“Next time,” I agreed. “Soon.”

Outside, the rain had stopped. Inside, the three of us drifted toward sleep in a tangle of limbs, the air still thick with the smell of sex, and I knew this was only the beginning of whatever filthy new chapter we had just opened.

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