An adult stories – The Founders Day Ball by rickyp83616,rickyp83616 Founders Day
Characters in this story:
The narrator, a second-year med student, and his wife Meg.
Dr. Surendra Darinda — med school professor teaching medical biochemistry.
Daniel and Darla — med school alumni
Annie Stevenson — 3rd year med student
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This story is fictional, and the story’s characters are not based on any single individual — though they are a compilation of characteristics and personalities encountered in real life, and in the author’s imagination. All characters live in a fantasy world where there are no STDs and no unwanted pregnancies resulting from unprotected sex.
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As I enter my second year of medical school, I’m both stressed by how difficult med school is, but also excited that at the end of this year, I will be given a placement for some clinical experience. One of the big events leading up to placements is the annual Founders Day celebration.
Founders Day is the closest thing my med school has to a homecoming. We don’t have a football team that everybody can cheer on, or a marching band, or parades, or really anything like regular universities. So, when that time of year comes around, the excitement on campus is palpable.
In the week leading up to Founders Day, alumni return and give guest lectures in our classes, sharing the challenging real-life medical mysteries they’ve faced and conquered. Guest speakers are almost always more interesting than listening to our professors drone on yet again using some obscure Latin or Greek medical terms we’ve never heard before. Plus, there are no exams during that week, so the students all get to relax for a bit.
There’s always a crowd out for the 5K run, and opportunities to hit 18 holes at the country club, but the real reason it’s important to second-year students is we get a chance to meet, and hopefully impress, the doctors who hold our future in their hands. If you are successful, you can get a clinical rotation placement at one of the best hospitals or medical centers in the country.
Grades and resumes are important, but making a personal connection is the key to success. Anything you can do to help your chances is fair game. Every student puts on their best personality, tells the funniest jokes, listens more intently, and studies the visiting alumni’s backgrounds to find something to connect with. The competition for attention is brutal.
The schmoozing game is not a secret — the alumni understand what’s going on and take advantage of the ego-boosting fawning by the med students.
About one-third of the students here are female, and unfortunately, they experience inappropriate jokes, touching, and innuendo from the sexist old alumni men. The male students don’t have the same problem — female alumni are younger and are much more professional.
One of the most important events is the Founders Day Social and Ball, an opportunity for the students and alumni to mix and mingle. Imagine your high school prom, except 50-year-old alumni, most of whom are drunk men, get to dance with the high school girls. Okay, it’s not quite that bad, but you get the idea. The Founders Day Social and Ball includes casual conversations, an open bar, and a live band performing dance music from 10 to 30 years ago — music the alumni would remember and enjoy.
When I explained the situation to my wife Meg, she said she understood how important this was for my future placements. She said she was willing to do her part to help me.
I wasn’t worried about the dancing part — Meg’s undergraduate degree is in dance. I’m sure she will be able to dance with any of the alumni just fine, whether it’s modern swing, waltz, hip hop, Latin, or ballroom. I’ve even seen her do tap dancing, though it wasn’t her best skill.
I was a little concerned about the fact that we don’t drink alcohol, so the open bar might create awkward moments. It’s easy to offend people when they offer you a drink and you turn them down. Our strategy was to tell people we were the designated drivers.
Meg is a beautiful blonde and has had lots of experience with lecherous old men, so she told me not to worry, she would laugh when she needed to laugh, flirt when she needed to flirt, but also shut down anything inappropriate. I totally trusted her.
With a bunch of influential doctors there, you can be sure the pharmaceutical reps would also be there. Actually, the pharma companies hire “temporary reps” — usually 18–20-year-old beautiful young women, undergraduates from the state university majoring in pre-med or nursing. Technically they work under a licensed sales rep, who uses them as “delivery” personnel. They are well stocked with “samples” to give away, from erection and endurance pills to relaxation and anxiety medications. They also have “morning after” pills available.
It’s a somewhat formal dress event. Meg rented a strapless off-white chiffon dress by Jovani with a deep V-neck up front that cut below her breasts. The low-cut bodice naturally attracts your eyes to tits that were miraculously staying inside. She chose to go without a bra — her bare 35C tits were held in place by the built-in underwire cups. The cut was low enough that when she danced, her tits would shake, keeping everyone staring waiting for an inevitable wardrobe malfunction.
It had a decorative rope accent across the front that hinted at munenawa bondage — pulling the tits up by drawing in tight at the bottom of the breast, then crossing the belly, and again tight across the waistline. The deep V-neck, the exposed top of her breasts, the bondage rope, and the off-white color hinting at virginity made my wife not just beautiful but alluring.
The dress was backless — supported at the waist by a tightly fit bone-in, hook-and-eye arrangement. It had a long slit up her left leg that essentially went all the way up, though you wouldn’t know that just by glancing because of the way the fabric wraps at the waist. I was sure everyone would be staring to see if the slit revealed anything interesting at the top of her long silky-smooth legs. If they did get lucky, they’d discover that Meg decided to go commando — the exhibitionist in her thought it would make the event even more exciting.
At 5’10” with 2.5-inch dance heels, she was taller than most women there and could look many men straight in the eye. With tits ready to jump out of her top at any second, and a slit in the dress that barely hid her freshly shaved pussy, I knew Meg would make an impression on everyone there.
Before leaving for the hotel ballroom, I told Meg to have fun — she didn’t need to hang on my shoulder the whole time. I’m not a particularly social person so working the room was not my strength. All I asked was that she drop my name in conversations with the alumni. I knew they would remember Meg, and hoped they would remember me by association. I reminded her of our marriage policy — she could only dance two times with any one person; then she had to move on to a different dance partner.
When we walked in, my predictions came true. It felt like everybody turned to look at my wife’s tits and legs. For a second, I thought she may have overdone it — nobody even noticed her husband, me, standing beside her.
We did a slow promenade around the dance floor, briefly saying hi to some of the other students and faculty, whose wives were no comparison to my beautiful Meg. We reached the open bar at the far end of the hall and ordered diet cokes. Before the barkeep could deliver our drinks, the first of several men offered to buy Meg a drink. Meg flirted well but politely declined. She introduced me as her husband several times, but that didn’t seem to stop the attention they gave her.
Before long, Meg got her first invitation to dance. She looked at me to confirm I was okay with it. I told her to go ahead and have fun. I sat there, essentially alone, watching as my wife danced with some alumnus I had never met. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a very good dancer. He stumbled several times — but then I noticed that each time he stumbled, he would reach out and touch my wife, on her arms, her shoulders, a couple of times he put his hand on her hip. I wondered if it was intentional.
When the second dance came up, the music was slower, allowing him to put his hand on her bare back and pull her in close. She was doing a respectful job of resisting his pressure to grind on him. She must have told him our two-dance rule because, at the end of the dance, he looked disappointed as Meg returned to join me at the café table I was sitting at.
As she sat, the split in the dress spread wide, flashing her upper thigh to anyone looking. As I glanced around, I noticed Dr. Surendra Darinda, one of my professors, watching. He was an incredibly difficult instructor of medical biochemistry — his first name literally means “lord of the gods” and he acted like it. I was currently struggling in his class and had told Meg many times how much I hated going.
Dr. Darinda walked over and greeted me. He complimented Meg on her “amazing” outfit and asked if he would be allowed to dance with her. Of course, she said yes. I never would have guessed it, but my professor was a talented dancer. He led Meg in a swing dance and had all the moves down smooth.
I was impressed until I realized what he was doing. He was intentionally spinning Meg around to make the slit spread wide, and he was trying to see if she had anything underneath. As she would swing, her breasts would slide side to side inside the cups, and I’m sure he got several glances at her nipples. My most hated professor was checking out my wife. I’m not usually an angry person, but my ire was growing by the minute. Meg later told me she knew exactly what Dr. Darinda was doing, and her flashing everyone in the ballroom was exciting to her.
The second dance was more difficult for Meg as Dr. Darinda held her in a closed dance position, with one hand wandering down her bare back and onto her ass. I’m sure he got a good feel — enough to recognize that she had no underwear on. He tried to slide his hand down her back inside the waistband of the dress, but it was too tight for anything more than his fingertips. His other hand landed on Meg’s waist and tried to slide up her side, eventually getting a little side boob and maybe even getting a brief frontal grab.
The problem Dr. Darinda had was that Meg knew all those tricks and did a great job of twisting and turning in rhythm with the music, frustrating her dance partner’s attempts.
After two dances, they both returned to the table, and Dr. Darinda sat down to visit.
While we sat there talking, I noticed his hand drop below the table. It was a glass-top table, so between our beverages and other items on the table, I could clearly see that he was feeling up my wife’s crossed leg. He was caressing the top and inside of her thigh. With no protest from Meg, he moved his hand up the slit further each time he moved around.
Meg’s hands were on the table holding her Diet Coke, so Dr. Darinda had no reason to stop what he was doing. Meg could tell I was getting upset and made eye contact with me several times to let me know that she was okay — that I didn’t need to react. Inside, I wanted to just punch him, but outside I smiled and carried on small talk with a man who could fail me out of med school.
I found it incredibly brazen of my professor to be touching my wife right there in front of me. Biochem is a critical class for me as a med student, so I didn’t want to offend him in any way, but it was totally inappropriate for him to be molesting a student’s wife. I didn’t know what to do or say, so I decided to trust Meg.
His hand continued to get higher and higher up her leg, and deeper within the slit before finally totally disappearing inside the slit of her dress. He had an obstacle-free access to my wife’s freshly shaved pussy and was obviously trying to reach further inside her dress. The whole time he’s molesting my wife, he’s making small talk with me. It was clearly a power display by him. He knew I could see through the tabletop. He knew I couldn’t do anything.
With his hand pushing inside her dress the fabric began to drop off her leg. To have some semblance of modesty Meg pulled the halves of the dress up together to cover her leg again, blocking my view of Dr. Dorinda’s hand and wrist. But she didn’t make any move to remove his hand.
I imagined my professor fingering my wife, sliding in and out of her vagina. I’m sure Dr. Dorinda would have found her pussy sopping wet — and I just waited for him to pull his finger out and suck on it, to shove it in my face that he had the power to molest my wife and we couldn’t do anything about it.
I was pleased to find out I was wrong. Meg told me later that he had tried to slide his fingers down to her vagina, but she was clamping her beautiful dancer’s thighs together so tightly he was not successful. He tried prying her legs apart. He tried forcing his fingers down. Meg was frustrating Dr. Dorinda so badly that I just wanted to kiss her. I was so proud of her composure. She said he was close to reaching her clit a few times. Just for fun, Meg said, she shifted her legs once, Sharon Stone style, to give him brief access, but he was too slow to react and missed the chance.
Meg was loving every second of the contest — a stranger trying to masturbate her in public versus her resisting him simply by her leg strength. The taboo fact that he was one of my professors got her aroused even more. My wife can be a cruel tease sometimes and my professor was losing badly. While I hated him, I was so proud of my wife.
To my relief, an alumnus came up to our table to greet Dr. Darinda, forcing him to withdraw his hand when he stood up to greet the former student. Dr. Darinda introduced Meg to Daniel, one of his students from several years ago, but didn’t mention that Meg’s husband — me — was right there next to them. He told Daniel that Meg was an excellent dancer just like his wife Darla, who extended her hand to me — finally, somebody acknowledged that I was there.
Dr. Darinda leaned forward to kiss Darla on the cheek, but she turned away to directly face me. Her facial reaction gave me the unmistakable feeling that she knew my professor was a molester. I guessed Darla was one of his victims. She clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
Daniel asked my wife to dance, which she quickly accepted, escaping my professor’s lecherous hands. Darla then asked if I would like to dance with her. I was happy to get off my seat and get away from Dr. Darinda — and get my first dance of the evening.
As we danced, she asked if Dr. Darinda had molested my wife yet. Apparently, that’s something that he does every year. When her husband was a student several years ago, the professor told her that her husband would fail his class unless she had sex with him.
She felt trapped as he led her out of the ballroom, took her to his hotel room, stripped her, and fucked her. She thought about reporting him for raping her, but she had voluntarily gone to his room with him, so they just moved on in life and pretended it never happened. Darla then said a line that I will always think about when sitting in his class. “His dick is less than half the size of his ego.”
When Darla saw him hitting on my wife, she began having flashbacks and knew what he wanted to do. She told her husband that they needed to rescue us.
I thanked her and told her I didn’t know what to do as he was groping Meg under the table in plain view.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “He’ll move on to some other vulnerable woman.” Darla said that just letting him touch Meg as he did was probably enough to get me an “A” grade in the class.
Meanwhile, Meg was dancing with Daniel — who, it turns out, was in the same specialty I wanted to get into. She did her best to pitch me, and he left his card when they were done dancing. He told me to contact him when I was ready to begin applying for placements.
With Meg having done several dances, she was ready for a break, so we stepped outside into the atrium for some fresh air. Meg filled me in on Dr. Darinda’s antics and said Daniel had told her he does this every year. I told her about what happened to Darla, and how grateful I was that they intervened.
After a break, we returned to the ballroom. Meg immediately got asked to dance by a variety of alumni. As she danced, one of the young pharma reps asked if we needed any Viagra pills or morning-after pills.
She looked like she was just barely 18 years old, dressed in what must have been her high school prom dress — a halter top outfit with deep cleavage and a ton of side boob. It’s the kind of dress that I imagine led to her losing her virginity. The poor girl looked like she was so uncomfortable; her dress was probably purchased for a boyfriend, not to objectify her for a bunch of horny old men.
I was going to turn down the free drugs she offered, but she explained that her pay was based in part on how many samples she handed out — so I agreed to take some morning-after pills, which I would later donate to the women’s resource center at the state university nearby.
Out of the corner of my eye, I recognized a familiar face — Annie Stevenson. Annie was a year ahead of me and had left earlier in the year for her rotation in Elko, Nevada. I was surprised to see her back so soon and quickly went up to her and gave her a big hug. She had come without Austin, her husband, because “he had to work.” She said she was nervous about coming to the Ball solo — she knew the rumors about the event and was a bit concerned.
I told Annie not to worry — Meg and I would be her partners for the evening. As the next dance ended, Meg came running over and practically tackled Annie, giving her a long embrace. They complimented each other on their dresses, and how good they looked. Annie noticed Meg’s cleavage and slit and asked if she’d caught any fish with those. Meg told her about Dr. Darinda, and swing dancing and groping under the table.
Annie’s dress was a blue bodycon midi with a twisted front top that left no doubt she wasn’t wearing anything underneath — her nipples visibly poking her top. The backless and midriff skin exposure added to the appeal.
As could have been predicted, another guy asked Meg to dance, so she went off with him. I asked Annie to dance with me, which she gladly accepted. It was a slow dance, and it felt good to hold Annie again. We had a history together (you’ll have to read the other stories to learn about that), and Meg and I had both grown very fond of her.
There was something different about Annie today — I didn’t know what had changed, but instead of the smart-ass sassy woman we had gotten to know, she was more subdued. As we danced, Annie leaned her head on my shoulder and melted into my hold. I gently caressed her back — but this wasn’t a sexual caress, it was the kind you might give a sad child.
Meg was dancing with another alumnus and looked at me with curiosity. She mouthed, “What’s going on?” I gave her my “I have no idea” look.
After the dance, we got Diet Cokes and sat at a corner table while she told me all about the Northeastern Nevada Regional Hospital. Due to funding problems, they were cutting programs and Annie was being forced out. She was back in town because she has to make new rotation arrangements.
Then, out of the blue, she declared she wanted to dance some more. Our two-dance rule went out the window as I stayed with Annie for the rest of the evening. The more we danced, the brighter her personality became. As the evening progressed, she started touching me more and her dance moves got more erotic.
By this point in the evening, the formal wear had become more informal. Ties came off, suit jackets came off, and the women were no longer wearing shoes. The band began playing more recent music and the dancing became more club-style with frequent bumping hips and grinding on dance partners. I suspect alcohol had something to do with the changes as the evening progressed.
Annie unbuttoned two buttons on my dress shirt and put her hand on my chest as we danced to one of the slower songs. Now I don’t have one of those muscle-man chests that some women like, but apparently Annie didn’t care as her hand slipped inside my shirt and she ran her fingers through my light-colored chest hair, gravitating toward my pecs — just slowly caressing. She wrapped her hand around my man boob and squeezed. She held onto my breast for quite a while, then ran her hand up over my shoulder inside my shirt as she brought her body in close to me.
I was tempted to caress her “pecs” too but thought this might now be the place to be so brazen. I looked around to find my wife, who was happily dancing with someone I didn’t know. She saw me look and gave me a head nod to let me know everything was okay.
While I was connecting with Meg, Annie turned around and started grinding her ass on my cock, which was already well on the path to getting hard. I’m sure Annie could feel my cock sliding around on her ass as she shook it on me. With Meg’s head nod giving me permission, I put my hands on Annie’s waist and held her close enough to keep grinding.
After a minute of holding her hips while she was grinding on my cock, she did a spin move and was facing me while still grinding. My hands dropped to her ass and pulled her close so our bodies moved in sync with each other. My cock was totally hard, and a wet spot was beginning to form on the front of my pants.
I caught Meg’s eye over Annie’s shoulder — she could clearly see my hands holding Annie’s butt cheeks, not her waist. At first, I was nervous that I’d been caught by my wife, but Meg just winked at me and blew me a kiss.
I decided that we needed to change our position before the wet spot became a full-blown cum stain, so I did a little sidestep and gave Annie a little bit of a spin. As she moved, my hands returned to her upper half — and caught brief grasps of her tits. She responded by briefly grabbing my cock and giving it a couple of squeezes.
This wasn’t supposed to be an exhibition ball, so I didn’t want to push the intimate touching too far. We both made several casual and “accidental” grabs of tits and cock and ass and whatever body part happened to pass by our hands.
After a handful of songs, I suggested we find a seat and take a break. We sat together on a sofa, thigh to thigh, catching our breath. My arm was around her shoulder and casually playing with her tit. I didn’t want to be obvious to others watching, so I wasn’t full-on grabbing or squeezing — just an occasional nipple play and broad caresses.
While I was playing with Annie’s breasts, her right hand was on my lap — not explicitly stroking me, but just some gentle caresses with an occasional squeeze of my hard cock. I was grateful the room was darkened, and hoped nobody was watching — Meg’s the exhibitionist, not me.
While we sat there, we watched as my wife played the room. She danced with many different men — on one occasion, with two or three at one time. The “wardrobe malfunction” everyone had been looking for happened several times, more and more as the evening wore on. Chiffon has some stretch to it, and it may be that all the dancing loosened the fit. It could also be that her perspiration from dancing made it slippery, but her top kept sliding down an inch or so, flashing her whole tit to anyone looking.
We watched her dance partners, and other men dancing near her, who couldn’t take their eyes off her. When it happened, she would pull it back up and keep dancing. You would think she’d stop dancing to put in a safety pin or somehow fix the problem, but she just kept going. If I know my wife, she was loving the idea of flashing everybody near her.
One dance partner was happy to assist her by cupping her tits with his hands while she adjusted her top. The room was relatively dark, and they were swaying to the music, but it looked to me like he held on a little longer than necessary. His fingers appeared to be pinching her nipples.
I watched as he turned my wife’s back to his front so he could grind on her ass while dancing. Meg pulled up her top, and at first he did his own underboob cup with his hands — helping her make sure her dress didn’t slip down, I’m sure.
Once she got her tits back in place, he slid his hands down her sides to her hips. He then slid his left hand inside the slit of the dress. Unlike with Dr. Darinda, Meg was not squeezing her legs together as this stranger caressed her pussy. I couldn’t see how far he got, but I could tell from Meg’s leaning back into him, with her face turned upwards, that she was very aroused and enjoying the attention.
Annie saw it too, squeezed my cock, and asked if I got aroused by all the men flirting with my wife.
I told her Meg was an exhibitionist, not a cheat. I’m not bothered by her flirting if she is in control. I do get bothered if someone tries to force or manipulate her — like Dr. Darinda was doing. Meg isn’t cheating on me by dancing with other people — even if they get a bit handsy. I enjoy seeing Meg have her own fun, and she was clearly having fun right now. Besides, Meg always came home to me, and we always talk about what happened and that keeps us connected.
Annie reacted by opening the fly on my pants and reaching her hand inside. I was concerned that she would pull my cock out there in public.
“Will you tell Meg about me doing this?” She wrapped her fingers around my cock and slowly stroked and squeezed — but it wasn’t the kind of motion to make me cum. It was more of a tease.
“Of course,” I told her, as I tried to preserve some modesty by shifting my body and holding my drink and napkin in front of me.
Annie decided to up the ante a bit and began a more vigorous stroke, which had the effect of releasing the top of my cock out the fly of my pants. Others could clearly see what was going on, despite my attempts at covering up. When Meg saw what Annie was doing, she just laughed. I could see her say something to her dance partner and point in my direction. I was incredibly embarrassed — again, I’m not the exhibitionist in the family.
I warned Annie that stroking me like that would have consequences. She smiled but didn’t say anything, just picked up the pace of her hand motions. She moved her hand lower on my cock, putting my balls in half of her hand while the other half stroked the bottom part of my cock itself. The feeling of her rolling my balls and then stroking up was incredible, effectively pumping my cum higher up with every stroke.
I tried to discourage her by gripping her breast really hard, but I think that had the opposite effect as she just moaned approval. I pinched her tit, but she kept going.
“Seriously, Annie, you’ve got to stop. I’m going to cum,” I told her.
She didn’t stop.
I was glad I had my napkin nearby and quickly laid it on my lap and shot a load into it. You know how paper napkins aren’t much use when they get wet — well this one was already damp from the condensation around my cold drink, and it tore right where my cum shot in. It was better than nothing, but not by much.
As soon as I came, an alumnus came over and asked if Annie would do him. I think he was a little drunk, and Annie turned him down as I tried to pack away my cock inside my pants.
As the evening progressed and the drunks got bolder (and my cock and balls were in a bit of pain from being stroked inside the confines of my pants), Meg, Annie, and I decided it was time to go. We walked Annie to her car. Meg got in with Annie, so I was alone in our car as we all drove to our apartment for an after-ball celebration and reunion.
As we walked in the door, Meg immediately asked me to unzip and unhook her dress, which she threw on the sofa as soon as we came in the door. Since she didn’t have any underwear on, she was instantly naked. Annie wasn’t surprised — she had seen Meg in action several times during the previous year. Annie did the same, asking me to unzip and unhook her as she stripped off her dress, so she was also naked. Of course, it didn’t take long for me to join them. It felt good to be natural with a friend.
The three of us sat there naked and talked for a long time, eventually learning that Austin wasn’t exactly working. He and Annie had a falling out — something about her working 60-hour weeks at the hospital and being poor and living in the middle of nowhere in Northern Nevada. He was mad about moving so far from family; she said they hadn’t had sex since they moved west. She said was afraid they were going to end up divorced.
Meg pulled Annie closer on the sofa as they cried together. Meg told her not to worry, we would take care of her. As they hugged and tears slid down Annie’s cheeks, Meg kissed the tears and caressed her face. I watched as those kisses moved from tear-stained cheeks to full lip-to-lip kissing.
I don’t want to seem insensitive, but I’ve always enjoyed watching lesbian porn, and seeing Meg and Annie holding each other, tit to tit, lip to lip, was enough to get my cock moving, despite their sadness and tears. Of course, Meg noticed. She was holding Annie’s face in her hands and turned her head, looked at me, and asked, “Really?”
“What can I say — two hot women in my living room kissing? It’s just natural.”
Apparently, it wasn’t appropriate though. Meg and Annie got up, gave me a dirty look, and went to our bedroom. I heard the door close and figured it would be best if I stayed in the living room. Over the next hour or two I heard plenty of talking, some laughing, and what sounded like kissing coming from the bedroom. Now if you remember Annie from the previous stories, you know that she’s a screamer. When I heard screaming coming from the bedroom, I immediately figured out what was happening.
While I was waiting, I checked my emails and sent a thank you to Daniel and Darla. I did a quick jerk-off for relief. It was getting very late, and the bedroom had become quiet, so I turned off the lights and tried to sleep on the sofa.
Somewhere in the middle of the night Meg came and got me to crawl into bed to sleep. She positioned me in the middle, between herself and Annie. Now understand we just have a queen bed — it was a tight fit. We tried not to wake Annie up as Meg snuggled close to me as my little spoon, with my cock pressed against her backside.
I was awakened sometime later by someone sucking on my cock. Meg has given me wake-up blowjobs many times in our marriage, so I assumed it was Meg. I just lay there enjoying the attention when someone else kissed my lips. It took me a few seconds to process that one set of lips was around my cock and the other in my face — and I was instantly fully awake. Meg, on my lips, whispered to just lay back and enjoy their apology for last night.
Annie was quite talented as she licked up and down my cock, gently stroking my balls. Meg slid down the bed to join her — each taking turns putting the head of my cock in their mouths, caressing it with their tongues while Annie massaged the soft spaces between my balls, sometimes putting each in her mouth and gently sucking it in. It was quite a sight to see two naked women working on me at the same time.
Annie came forward and wrapped my saliva-coated cock in her tits, rocking back and forth, while staring into my eyes with a hunger I had never seen from her before. I warned her I wasn’t going to last long if she kept it up, but that didn’t seem to slow her down — if anything, it felt like her tit fuck was getting faster.
Just as my balls began to contract, ready to explode, Annie dropped my cock and put it back in her mouth. I exploded into her mouth — my cum leaking from between her lips as she sucked everything I had out of my cock. She swallowed what she collected.
Annie then climbed further up the bed and sat on my face, so I could return the pleasure. The tip of my tongue drew circles around her engorged bud as I drew it in my mouth, sucking and licking. While my mouth was on Annie’s pussy, Meg climbed on board my cock — which was steadily regaining strength and returning to its full hardness. It took a couple of minutes before I could give her the cock she deserved, but I think she was more interested in her own pleasure than mine.
With Annie on my face, I couldn’t effectively help Meg out, but she did enough of her own grinding and fucking to get the pleasure she wanted. Annie let out another of her now trademarked screams as she came again. It wasn’t as loud as when the two women were by themselves, but she seemed satisfied.
“Apology accepted,” I said.
Meg and Annie then shared a shower, without me, but at least they left the door open so I could lie on the bed and watch. Then Annie had to leave to meet with the med school staff to figure out what to do about her rotation. We made plans to meet up for dinner that evening before she had to return to Elko.