Lush Life

February 2019, Los Angeles, California.

I woke up to the scent of her hair and the weight of her thigh draped across my hip.

Anne's hip was always the first thing to fall asleep. She'd toss and turn, curl up, stretch out, but that thigh of hers stayed put. The sheets were bunched around our waists. Her nails had left faint red lines on my shoulder and there was a soft bite mark just below my collarbone.

I brushed away a strand of hair from her face. Anne shifted slow and catlike, her eyes still closed. Then she smiled like we'd been married for years.

"Morning mister..." Anne murmured. "You snore really loud."

"So I've been told."

She smiled, then leaned in without hesitation, kissing me like we'd done this for years. There was something practiced in the way her lips moved. Like I was someone she woke up next to more often than I did. When she showed up at my door at 3AM, she wasn't wearing her wedding ring.

She didn't say anything about it. She didn't really say much at all. Anne just pounced on me and now here we are. She let out a satisfied hum and nestled closer to me, roaming her hand down my chest. Then her foot grazed my hardness, her face lighting up at the feeling.

"I've always wanted breakfast in bed..." she whispered. Before I could answer, she slinked low into the sheets like she wanted to hide herself. I laughed and shook my head, but I didn't stop her. I pulled the comforter up over her head, and let my fingers rest in her hair, petting slow and grateful as her lips found my cock.

Anne was so damn gentle with her blowjob. There was no messy urgency, no wild pace. Just a smooth, careful suction and a slow circle of her tongue followed by the occasional stroke of her hand to keep me on edge. I let my head fall back against the pillow and exhaled deep. Then my phone buzzed.

I glanced at it without moving.

Email: Rachel Brosnahan.

Subject: For Later.

Contains 1 link.

Anne didn't stop, but she lifted her head just enough to ask, "Work?"

"Not exactly," I said, still watching the unread message. But I didn't open it. I slipped the phone facedown on the nightstand and looked back down at Anne still blowing me slowly. Anne's rhythm never broke, her tongue, lips and hand all working in a sleepy tandem like this was her way of waking up. I reached blindly for my phone again, then I opened my messages.

Me: What's in the link?

Rachel replied immediately.

Rachel: You didn't click it? Guess you're smarter than you look.

I chuckled under my breath. Anne's head tilted curiously under the cover, then she gave a little flick of her tongue that turned my laugh into a moan.

Rachel: It's not malicious. But it is something I want to try. Are you free? Like right now?

She probably assumed I was alone. Anne's head lifted just enough to breathe.

"Everything okay?" Anne asked sweetly.

"Rachel wants to come over."

Anne nodded without hesitation. "Sure."

Then she ducked back under the sheets with a little kiss to my tip, then resumed like we hadn't paused.

Me: Come over. The gate and door will be open.

Rachel: Good.

I set the phone down again. Anne's head bobbed just a little slower now as I continued to stroke her hair. Anne moaned softly, then tightened the grip of both her lips and her hand, siphoning my load out with ease. I didn't warn her. I pulsed into her mouth and she took it all like it was owed to her, her lips pursed tight around my cumming cock.

When Anne finally pulled back, she didn't say a word. She just rested her cheek on my thigh, smiling lazily. Then she rolled out of bed, picking up the green dress she wore the morning before. It was thin and soft cotton, almost sheer in the right light. She put it on without a care, the fabric hugging her hips in all the right ways.

"I'll be in the bathroom," Anne said, stretching her arms overhead before walking off barefoot. I took a deep breath and unlocked the gate for Rachel like I promised. Then I pushed myself up and followed Anne to the bathroom. She was brushing her teeth, her head tilted and her hips cocked to one side. Through the thin fabric of her dress, I could still see the curve of her spine.

She didn't notice me at first. I stepped up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing my chest to her back. My chin rested atop her shoulder. In the mirror we looked mismatched. My taller, much broader frame wrapped around her lean, feminine figure. She was all sharp cheekbones with a mouth full of foam and a toothbrush dangling at a slightly annoyed angle.

"Urrhevvy..." She mumbled. I smiled and kissed her cheek.

*

We made it downstairs without much effort. Anne was in that barely-there dress and I was in a shirt and sweats. She made tea and I made coffee. I was on the couch just watching her move barefoot through the kitchen. Then I heard steps at the front door.

Rachel didn't knock. She just pushed the door open like she'd done it before. She wore a snug leather jacket and sharp black jeans. She had a suitcase in one hand and a laptop tucked under her other arm.

"Okay," I sat up. "There's no drugs in the basement ma'am."

"Shut up," Rachel scoffed with a smirk.

Anne poked her head out from the kitchen, still stirring her tea and gave a polite little wave. "Hey, Rachel."

"Anne! I didn't know you'd be here." Rachel said.

"Neither did I," Anne shrugged. They smiled at each other. Rachel then set the suitcase down gently by the door and came over to hug me.

"You good," she asked me.

"I was and now I'm nervous." I said, giving her a squeeze.

Anne plopped down onto the couch beside me. "Should we be?"

Rachel pulled back with a sexy, lip biting smile. "Let's find out."

Rachel plopped herself down on the couch and opened her laptop, the screen already glowing with tabs and half-loaded windows. Anne was to Rachel's left, sipping her tea and watching with mild curiosity. I sat to Rachel's right and leaned in.

"I'm glad you didn't open the link," Rachel said as her fingers danced across the trackpad. "You need to see this in full detail and proper lighting. Compression ruins everything."

"Compression?" Anne raised an eyebrow.

Rachel didn't answer. She was already closing tabs fast. Instagram, YouTube, Facebook, all flashing by in quick succession. A few paused a second too long and I caught a glimpse of gym thirst traps, a strange cake video, and something with cats.

"I'm not addicted. Just curious." Rachel said defensively.

"I didn't say anything." I smirked.

Rachel ignored me and typed the URL manually. The site loaded up in a moody black. There was no branding or a welcome message. Just a grid of strange thumbnails over a charcoal backdrop. All of them were the same. A man's body was front and center, often restrained. Female hands in black latex gloves behind white walls.

"Holy shit." Anne snorted.

Rachel smiled. "I know right?"

Anne laughed again, trying not to spill her tea. "So you showed up to show us your porn?"

"It's not porn," Rachel said quickly. "It's performance art. High-concept visual exploration of power and submission. Tactile erotica."

"So..." I looked at the screen, then back at her. "It's porn."

"It is not!" she insisted. "It's filmed with purpose. The composition, the cock in center frame between the gloves, the walls. You're just distracted by the dick."

Anne leaned forward to get a better look, still giggling. "This is just porn in a turtleneck."

Rachel threw up her hands. "You two are insufferable." Then she stood up, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it to the back of the couch. Underneath she wore a simple black tank top that clung just tight enough to keep my focus. Then she crossed to the suitcase.

Anne sipped her tea as her gaze slowly moved toward the laptop screen. One of the videos played silently. Latex-clad hands stroking and moving as what I hoped was spit leaked down onto the guy's cock out of frame. Rachel crouched by the suitcase and flipped it open with a quick flick of the latches, angling her body carefully so I couldn't see what was inside. She rummaged for a few seconds, then pulled out a sleek camera rig with a stabilizer arm, compact but pro-grade.

"Rach..." I started.

"Your face won't be on camera." She said, her blues meeting my eyes. "I mean it, Jason. I don't share. I don't store. This is for us. Only us."

Anne chimed in before I could answer.

"It's... It's kind of beautiful, actually." Anne said, smiling down at the screen.

"Yeah?" Rachel turned.

"I get it. It's controlled." Anne nodded.

Anne stared for a few more seconds before placing the laptop to the side.

"I'll do it."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. I turned to Anne to make sure if I heard her right, but her expression didn't leave much room for doubt. She leaned forward to rest her tea on the table, then looked between the two of us.

"Marraige doesn't make me sad. It makes me... flat. Boring." Anne explained. Then her fingers brushed my wrist as she turned towards me, shifting her legs to straddle my lap. She cupped my jaw and kissed me firmly.

"I've always wanted a sex tape," Anne whispered. "Not for anyone else. Just me. Just proof I can be *that* woman. A woman with a pulse."

I swallowed hard, my heart kicking against my ribs. Rachel exhaled and turned towards the suitcase again.

"Good thing I brought backup gloves. Now," Rachel turned to us. "Where should we do it?"

"The work in progress guest bedroom I've been too lazy to paint." I said.

"Perfect." Rachel beamed.

Anne climbed off my lap and we made our way upstairs. At the top of the landing, just outside the door, Rachel stopped and turned to Anne, wrapping her in a hug. Then Rachel popped open the suitcase at her feet and began unpacking. She pulled out sleek handcuffs and a black blindfold.

"Anne," Rachel said, holding them out. "You should do the honors."

Anne blinked in surprise, slightly caught off guard, then she smiled. "With pleasure."

Rachel handed her the items, then turned to me with a look of professionalism that somehow made this whole thing even hotter.

"Anne. Follow me. We're getting changed. You, sit and wait." Rachel said. And just like that, they disappeared down the hall.

*

I sat on the edge of the bed with my shirt off. Then I heard footsteps. Anne pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"She says you're not allowed to see us when we come in," she said like we were talking about party prep. "So I've been given orders."

Anne walked to me slowly, her toes barely making a sound against the hardwood. When she reached me, she slipped her fingers under the waist of my sweats and tugged gently.

"Off," she whispered.

I obeyed. Anne gently folded them and set them aside. Then she kissed me, her hands running along my arms then up to my wrists.

"Lie back," she said. I did as I was told. She straddled my waist for balance and slowly brought my arms up, guiding them to the headboard. The cuffs were padded and cool against my skin. She clicked them in then she leaned over me, brushing her fingers through my hair and slipping the blindfold over my eyes. Complete darkness settled in instantly.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" She asked playfully.

"Three. Locking it in." I smirked.

"You're an idiot." She laughed, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Then I felt her leave again. A few minutes of darkness passed until the door opened with a click. Even blindfolded, I felt the air shift. The soft click of heels against the wood floor echoed louder than it should've. Then I heard the sound of zippers, a case unrolling, then the quiet hum of something being adjusted.

A tripod and a camera. I could sense someone setting up a shot in my sleep. Then a gloved hand touched my cock. It wasn't Rachel's, not with the way it moved. The warmth behind the grip gave it away. Anne's hand stroked me with that same tenderness she gave me earlier, only now with added pressure. The glove squeaked just slightly, teasing friction against my shaft as she worked me to life.

From somewhere near the camera, Rachel spoke. "I'm gonna have to move the whole setup back just to keep *that* in frame."

I opened my mouth to say something cocky, to deflect, but before I could get the words out, Anne leaned in and kissed me. Hard. Her lips and gloved hand moved at the same pressured pace. There was nothing funny about the way she kissed me. She was claiming me. Then her strokes stopped, just enough to make me ache. I could hear the faint shift of fabric.

Then Rachel spoke. "Alright. Nobody says a word once the camera's rolling unless absolutely necessary. Got it?"

"Define necessary." I said, more out of fear than anything else.

"We're doing a revised version. More spit than the usual videos. Probably some of that oil with the cute handwriting you keep in your millionth bathroom."

"You went into the-"

*BEEP*

The camera clicked on and shut me right up. A second later, I felt them move. The weight shifted on the bed, one from the left, one from the right. All I could do was feel the hot exhales, the press of their latex fingers on my thighs.

I heard Anne's lips parting. Then I felt it. A warm line of spit slid down the head of my cock in one unbroken trail. The latex around her grip made the sensation sharper, like my skin was extra aware of everything. I swallowed hard to hold back a groan. Then I felt Rachel's mouth. She started low, dragging her tongue up my length like she was sealing an envelope. Her lips didn't suck, they just brushed along the skin.

Anne's hand moved in slow, slick strokes, guided by her own spit and whatever sheen of precum that was already long gone. Rachel kissed the underside, her tongue circling just beneath the tip, her warm breath making me crack. A groan escaped me before I could stop it. My wrists tugged instinctively against the cuffs, reminding me I could just dig my fingers in their dark hair.

Anne leaned in and whispered. "Good boy."

I didn't stand a chance. Both their tongues found that sensitive ridge just beneath the tip and traced it with tandem positioning. One on the left and right, both warm and dripping with spit. My cock throbbed hard and my hips twitched, but there was nowhere to go. The cuffs held and the blindfold stayed firm.

Rachel leaned in further. Her lips wrapped around the head of my cock and she took me into her mouth with ease. She dove right in, her pace smooth and slick. Rachel slobbered and slurped quick enough to make my breath stutter, but just slow enough to not tip me over the edge. It was driving me insane.

Meanwhile, I felt Anne trailing her tongue up my stomach in soft lines like she was playing with her food. Her gloved hands roamed lazily over my thighs, my hips, then up to my chest. Anne kissed right between my pecs, then her tongue traced around my nipple, giggling as her tongue danced over it. As Anne tried her hardest not to break the silent rule, Rachel never paused.

Her head bobbed in a slick rhythm, the wet sounds echoing louder off the walls than they should have. I moaned again, harsher this time, and Anne pressed a kiss to the side of my throat like a reminder. Then Anne kissed her way back down, dragging her tongue down my chest and stomach, all the way to the base where Rachel worked with methodical suction.

I could feel Anne's gloved fingers slide along my thigh, then pause. Rachel popped off with a quiet gasp of her own.

"He's yours," I heard her whisper. Anne's gloved grip returned around my spit soaked cock, and then she devoured me. Her pace was uneven in the best way, slurping greedily, swallowing too much too fast, making little sounds against my skin like she was truly, genuinely having fun. The contrast made my head spin.

One moment, Anne's lips were at my base, the next she was sucking up hard toward the tip and letting herself drool around me like it didn't matter if she stayed neat. Then she handed me back. Rachel took over with a smile I could hear, then she sealed her mouth around my cock. She sucked hard but remained slow like she needed to remind me who was in charge.

Rachel bobbed four times. Then switched. Anne returned, noisier now, her spit stringing thickly and her throat catching around me every now and then with delicious, wet resistance.

Anne bobbed five times. Another switch. Rachel returned, firm and heavy with the suction. They held for a moment, letting the camera catch the twitching mess of me trapped between their drooling, hungry mouths. I let out a gasp before I could stop myself.

Anne giggled again. She'd moved. Her breath hit my collarbone just as Rachel resumed her turn below. Anne climbed higher, her weight shifting onto my chest as she kissed up the line of my jaw. Her latex-covered hand pressed flat against my chest, just over my pounding heart and Rachel continued her mess making below.

She wasn't even sucking anymore, just using her mouth and hand together, stroking me to the brink and stopping just before I tipped. Her glove gripped me tight as her tongue barely flicked the head. My stomach clenched and my hands tugged the cuffs. I was right there, so close I felt it in every nerve. Then Anne slid back down my body.

I barely registered her movement, just the trail of her tongue. Her giggle vibrated against me before she took my cock into her mouth again, stroking with her lips and tongue like she wanted to break me this time. No breaks or teasing, just Anne's mouth moving fast and wild, spit coating every inch and flying to my inner thighs.

I felt it. It was coming and there was no stopping it. Anne slid off my cock with a loud pop. Then I felt Rachel's hand grip the base and angle it slightly.

"Don't blink." Rachel said. Then I felt her slide the blindfold up my eyes. Light blinded me briefly, but just as my vision returned I saw Anne beaming at me. Her hair was wild, her cheeks were flushed, and spit leaked down her chin like a waterfall.

I exploded, my orgasm tearing through me in pulses I simply couldn't control. I watched her face the entire time, her smile stretching wider as she stuck out her tongue for load after load of thick, white spunk. Ropes of it streaked from her chin to her hairline, a heavy line built up on the bridge of her nose and pooled at her tongue. When I finally stopped, the silence was deafening.

Rachel got off the couch and clicked the camera off, setting it gently on the table without saying a word. Anne stayed between my legs, my load dripping down her face as she continued to lick and lap at my cock. I was already growing again. I let my head fall back against the pillow, still cuffed and finally, at least mentally returning to the land of the living. My body wasn't ready.

My body didn't get a vote.

Rachel tapped through the playback with a calmness that didn't match the way her bare, creamy white thighs were pressed together. Both ladies were completely nude, barring the long latex gloves of course.

"Angles are perfect," she muttered. "Anne you look *so* good. These twitches? Oh, perfection."

I groaned weakly.

Then Anne piped up. "We're not done."

I blinked at her in a daze until I felt her hand around me again, stroking me back to full hardness like it was inevitable. Rachel turned, smiling wide. She slid her finger down to her pussy lips and it came back glistening in the light.

"Guess I'm not done either." She shrugged.

Rachel grabbed the camera again, twisting the stabilizer back into place, resetting angles like a pro on a second shoot.

"Time for the director's cut." Rachel purred.

Before I could calm down, Anne climbed over me, facing away from me. She settled above me, her bare pussy hovering just over the tip of my cock. I saw the curve of her back, the swell of her hips, the way her hair clung to her shoulders with sweat. Then Rachel moved in to kiss her.