I like sex.. and I like massages, so..
Starring TWICE Jihyo, Momo, A Male Roommate
Warning : Nsfw content
<-Prev
The late afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the living room, casting elongated rectangles of warm golden light across the hardwood floor. It had been three weeks since that fateful Sunday, the one they now referred to in hushed, amused tones as the No Clothes Sunday, the day when a drunken bet had escalated into something far more profound and permanent. The boundaries between Jihyo and him had dissolved entirely, leaving in their wake a domestic intimacy that felt both shocking in its casualness and natural in its rightness. The house had become a sanctuary of skin and comfort, a place where clothing was optional and desire was never far from the surface.
The front door clicked open with a tired, heavy sound, and Jihyo stepped inside, her shoulders slumped in a way that spoke of exhaustion so deep it seemed to permeate her very bones. She had spent the entire day at the practice room, running through choreography for hours on end, her body pushed to its absolute limits by the unforgiving demands of the entertainment industry. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face, which was devoid of makeup and pale with fatigue. She wore a loose black practice shirt that clung to her sweat-dampened skin and leggings that had long since lost their elasticity from being worn too many times.
She kicked off her sneakers with a grunt, not bothering to line them up neatly against the wall as she usually might have done. The sound of her sigh filled the entryway, a long, trembling exhalation of air that seemed to carry with it all the tension of her brutal day. She walked into the living room, her steps dragging, and found him reclining on the couch, his bare chest rising and falling with calm, steady breaths. He was wearing only a pair of loose grey sweatpants that sat low on his hips, the waistband of his underwear barely visible above the elastic. His skin glowed in the afternoon light, toned and inviting, a familiar sight that had become as comforting to her as her own bed.
Without a word, Jihyo crossed the room and collapsed onto the couch beside him, her body sinking into the cushions with a soft whoosh of displaced air. She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that had grown between them over these past weeks.
"Rough day?" he asked, his voice low and gentle, not demanding anything from her, simply offering a space for her to unload if she needed to.
She opened one eye and looked at him, a tired smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You have no idea," she said, her voice hoarse from disuse and dehydration. "We ran through the new choreography forty times. Forty. My legs feel like jelly, and my back is killing me. I think I pulled something in my shoulder during the last run-through."
He reached out and placed his hand on her thigh, squeezing gently through the fabric of her leggings. "Want me to rub it later?" he offered.
Jihyo chuckled, a warm, throaty sound that vibrated through her chest. "Later," she agreed. "Right now, I just want to not be wearing these clothes. They feel like they're strangling me."
She didn't wait for his response. With movements that had become routine, almost ritualistic in their comfort, she reached down and grasped the hem of her loose practice shirt. She pulled it up over her head in one smooth motion, revealing the sports bra beneath, which she unclasped and discarded onto the floor without a second thought. Her breasts fell free, full and heavy, the nipples slightly pebbled from the cool air of the air-conditioned room. She had always been self-conscious about her body in the past, aware of the industry's impossible standards, but here, with him, she had learned to exist in her skin without apology.
Next came the leggings. She peeled them down her legs, shimmying her hips to work the tight fabric over her thighs and calves. She got them down to her ankles but didn't bother removing them completely, leaving them bunched there like fabric shackles, too tired to finish the job. Now she sat beside him in nothing but a pair of simple cotton underwear, her skin glowing with a sheen of residual sweat from her practice, her curves on full display.
She turned toward him and leaned her head against his shoulder, seeking the solid warmth of his body. Her hand, which had been resting on her own thigh, drifted across the small space between them and found the waistband of his sweatpants. She slipped her fingers beneath the elastic, delving into the heat within, and wrapped her fingers around his semi-erect length. He was warm and heavy in her palm, already stirring to life at her touch.
"Already?" she murmured against his shoulder, a teasing note in her voice despite her exhaustion.
"You're naked," he replied simply, as if that explained everything. And perhaps it did. "Hard not to respond when you're sitting there like that."
She stroked him slowly, her fingers loose and lazy, not trying to rush toward anything, just enjoying the feel of him growing harder in her grasp. The rhythm was hypnotic, a gentle back and forth that matched the slowing of her own breathing as she began to relax for the first time since leaving the practice room that morning.
"Shall we do it?" he asked, his voice slightly rougher now, desire beginning to thread through his tone.
Jihyo didn't answer immediately. She continued her slow stroking, her thumb circling the sensitive ridge beneath the head of his cock, feeling him twitch in her hand. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, thoughtful, carrying a note of longing that made him turn his head to look at her.
"You bet," she said, confirming her willingness. Then she paused, her hand stilling for a moment as an idea seemed to crystallize in her mind. "But I am craving some sensual massage right now."
He blinked, surprised by the specific request. He looked at her, studying her face, trying to understand the shift in her desire. "Craving?" he repeated. "What do you mean craving? Did you have one before?"
She shook her head, her hair brushing against his shoulder with the movement. "No, I did not," she admitted. "But I like having sex with you, and I want a nice massage. My body is so sore, so tight. I was thinking... why not mix them both? Like in one of those Japanese styles? The ones where they use oil and take their time?"
Understanding dawned on him, and he nodded slowly, the image already forming in his mind. He had seen videos of such massages, the slow, deliberate touch, the way pleasure and relaxation intertwined until the recipient was nothing but a puddle of sensation. "I can do that," he said, confidence in his voice. He had strong hands, patient hands, and he knew her body well enough to read its responses.
Jihyo smiled, a genuine, bright expression that transformed her tired face. She squeezed his cock once more, firmer this time, before releasing him and slowly pushing his sweatpants down his hips. He lifted his hips to help her, and soon he was as naked as she was, the fabric pooled around his ankles much like hers.
As she settled back against him, her hand returning to his thigh, she suddenly went still. Her eyes widened slightly, and she looked up at him with an expression that was part mischief, part serious intent.
"I'll invite Momo tomorrow," she said, the words dropping between them like stones into still water.
He reacted before his brain could catch up, blurting out the first thought that came to mind. "So, no nakedness tomorrow?"
Jihyo laughed, a musical sound that filled the room. "I guess not," she said, considering. "But there will be when the massage starts."
He looked at her in confusion, his brow furrowing as she resumed her slow stroking of his cock, her fingers dancing along his length with maddening patience. "What does that mean?" he asked.
Jihyo's expression grew more serious, though her hand never stopped its work. "Momo went to one of those massages in Japan," she explained. "The sensual ones. She invited me once, back when we were on tour, but I was too afraid. Too shy. But now that it's you, someone I trust completely, I want to try it. And I know Momo loved that massage. She talked about it for weeks afterward. So I thought... let me invite Momo tomorrow. We can both experience it together."
His mind raced to catch up with the implications of her words. "Which means..." he prompted, needing her to spell it out.
"Which means," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper as she slid down from the couch and positioned herself between his knees, "you'll need a little more stamina to handle both me and Momo. She liked that massage. It'll be up to you for her to like your massage."
He smirked down at her, his heart pounding at the thought. Not only had he won Jihyo's complete trust and intimacy, but now Momo was being added to the equation. The prospect was dizzying, exhilarating. But he needed to understand the boundaries, the expectations.
"Does Momo know about me?" he asked. "The whole naked thing? Our arrangement?"
Jihyo looked up at him, her eyes dark and intense, and slowly lowered her head. She placed a soft, wet kiss on the tip of his cock, making him groan. "She does," she confirmed, the words vibrating against his sensitive skin. Then she opened her mouth and took him inside, her lips stretching around his girth, her tongue flattening against the underside of his shaft.
He nodded, his hand finding its way to her hair, tangling in the strands of her messy bun. The night commenced in earnest then, Jihyo setting a pace that was neither rushed nor lazy, but perfectly calibrated to drive him wild. She used her hand in concert with her mouth, twisting and stroking the base while her lips worked the upper half. The wet sounds of her ministrations filled the room, mingling with his groans and her own soft hums of pleasure.
When he could take no more of her mouth without spilling, he gently pulled her up and guided her to turn around. She understood immediately, positioning herself on her hands and knees on the floor, her discarded leggings still tangled around her ankles, her underwear the only barrier remaining. He removed that barrier with one swift tug, revealing her glistening sex, swollen and ready for him.
He entered her from behind in one smooth thrust, filling her completely, and she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls. The carpet was soft beneath her knees, the air cool against her bare back, but his heat was overwhelming, surrounding her as he began to move. He set a deep, rolling pace, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside her that made her toes curl. Her breasts swung with the motion, heavy and free, and she reached back with one hand to grip his thigh, pulling him deeper.
They moved together like that for what felt like hours, though it was likely only minutes, their bodies finding that perfect rhythm that they had developed over weeks of intimacy. When they finally collapsed, he still inside her, they rolled onto their sides on the living room floor, their limbs tangled, their chests heaving. He remained nestled within her, softening slowly, their bodies still joined as they drifted toward sleep.
The last thing he remembered before consciousness faded was the warmth of her back against his chest, the rise and fall of her breathing, and the anticipation of tomorrow pulsing through his veins like a second heartbeat.
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Morning light crept through the windows, pale and insistent, pulling Jihyo from the depths of sleep. She stirred, her body aching in the pleasant way that came from thorough use, and realized she was lying on the cold hardwood floor of the living room. She chuckled to herself, the sound dry and amused, remembering how they had collapsed here last night, too sated and lazy to make it to the bedroom.
She turned her head, expecting to find him still beside her, but the space was empty, already cooling. The blanket they had somehow pulled over themselves during the night slipped from her shoulders as she sat up, revealing her nakedness to the empty room. She stretched, her spine cracking in several places, and looked around for him.
The sound reached her then, a low, rhythmic moaning that was unmistakable in its intent. She followed the sound and found him sitting on the couch, his hand wrapped around his erect cock, stroking with slow, deliberate movements. On the television screen, a scene played out in high definition, a Japanese massage parlor where a man was slowly, methodically working oil into the body of a woman who was making those exact sounds.
Jihyo stood up and walked toward him, her nakedness complete and unashamed. She positioned herself between him and the television, blocking his view, and placed her hands on her hips. She smirked down at him, one eyebrow raised in playful accusation.
"Am I not enough for you," she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt, "that you have to watch porn and jerk off by yourself? And that too this early in the morning? You could have woken me up for a good, good morning sex."
He looked up at her, his hand stilling on his cock, and reached out with his free hand. He grasped her hip and gently pushed her to the side, not forcefully, but with enough intent to guide her to sit beside him on the couch. She allowed herself to be moved, settling onto the cushions next to him, her thigh pressing against his.
"That's not it," he explained, his voice rough with arousal and sleep. He gestured toward the screen with his chin. "I was looking at a Japanese massage porn video. For research."
Jihyo followed his gaze to the television, where the masseuse was now working his way up the woman's thighs, his hands disappearing into regions that were definitely not standard massage territory. Understanding dawned on her, and her smirk softened into something warmer, more appreciative.
"Oh," she said, realization coloring her tone. "So you're practicing the sensual massage techniques? For today?"
He nodded, his hand resuming its slow stroking, though now he was looking at her rather than the screen. "Uh huh," he confirmed. "I want to give both of you guys the best experience of sensual... massage." He had almost said porn, and they both caught it, sharing a smile at the Freudian slip.
Jihyo melted at his words, at the thoughtfulness of his preparation. She watched the screen for a moment longer, studying the techniques being demonstrated, the way the masseuse used his entire palm, the way he teased and retreated, building anticipation. Then she slowly bent down from her seated position, her hair falling forward to curtain her face, and took his cock into her mouth.
He groaned, his hips bucking slightly at the sudden wet heat of her. She bobbed her head slowly, her tongue swirling around his shaft, while he reached out with his other hand and found her sex. She was already wet, always ready for him, and he slid two fingers inside her with ease. They sat there on the couch, the morning light growing stronger around them, giving each other pleasure while the instructional porn played on in the background, forgotten.
It was a mutual exchange, a give and take that required no words. When he crooked his fingers inside her, finding that rough patch of tissue that made her gasp around his cock, she responded by taking him deeper, relaxing her throat until her nose pressed against his pelvis. When she hummed, the vibration traveled through his entire body, making his fingers work her with renewed vigor.
They came together, or near enough to it that the distinction was meaningless. He spilled into her mouth with a grunt, his hips jerking, while she clamped down on his fingers, her orgasm washing through her in waves that made her moan around his pulsing length. She swallowed him down, every drop, then slowly released him from her mouth and sat up, her chest heaving.
The video had ended, the screen gone blue with the player menu. They sat in the quiet aftermath, their bodies glowing with the pleasant lassitude of morning release. After a moment, he withdrew his fingers from her and reached for the tissue box on the side table. They cleaned themselves, then the couch, wiping away the evidence of their activities with lazy, satisfied movements.
"We should get dressed," Jihyo said, though she made no move to stand. "Momo will be here soon. We don't want to greet her naked from the start itself. That might be a bit much, even for her."
He agreed, and they both rose from the couch, their naked forms moving through the house with the ease of long familiarity. They showered together, the water hot and steamy, washing away the night's sweat and the morning's activities. They took turns soaping each other's backs, the touches functional now rather than sexual, though the underlying current of desire never fully disappeared.
After drying their hair with towels, Jihyo stood in front of the bedroom mirror, contemplating her underwear drawer. She reached for her usual comfortable cotton, but he stopped her, his hand closing around her wrist gently.
"Jihyo," he said, his voice soft. "Wear these first." He pointed to a set of lacy white lingerie that he had laid out on the bed, a delicate bikini-style panty and matching bra. The fabric was sheer, almost translucent, designed more for visual appeal than support. "After stripping to just these, I'll start the massage on both of you. Momo also needs to wear these." He gestured to a second set, identical in style but in a different size, laid out beside the first.
Jihyo looked at the lingerie, then at him, her eyes widening with impressed surprise. "Oh oh," she said, a smile spreading across her face. "Professional, aren't you?" She reached out and smacked his ass playfully, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "You've really thought this through."
She took the white set and began to put it on, the lace hugging her curves in ways that were both revealing and concealing. The panties sat low on her hips, the delicate strings rising up to emphasize the swell of her hips. The bra lifted her breasts, presenting them like offerings, the nipples barely visible through the sheer fabric.
Just as she was adjusting the straps, the doorbell rang, a sharp, insistent sound that made them both jump. They exchanged a look of panic mixed with excitement, realizing they were not quite ready. They hurried, Jihyo pulling on a loose sundress over the lingerie, him tugging on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. They moved through the living room, gathering the tissues, turning off the television, erasing all evidence of their morning activities.
Jihyo took a deep breath at the door, smoothing her hair, then opened it with a bright smile. Momo stood on the doorstep, looking radiant and eager. She wore a simple outfit of a cropped t-shirt and high-waisted shorts, her hair down and flowing around her shoulders. She carried a small bag over her shoulder, presumably with a change of clothes.
"Jihyo!" Momo exclaimed, stepping forward to embrace her friend. "I am so excited for this! I haven't had a proper massage in ages!"
They separated, and Momo stepped inside, her eyes immediately finding him where he stood in the living room. She smiled, a knowing, teasing expression that suggested Jihyo had indeed told her everything.
"So," Momo said, her voice carrying that distinctive tone she used when she was being playful, "this is the infamous naked Sunday house? I have to say, I'm disappointed you're both wearing clothes. I was expecting to be greeted by nudity."
He felt his face flush slightly, though he smiled back at her. "We thought we'd ease you into it," he replied. "No need to shock you at the door."
Momo laughed, a bright, infectious sound. "Oh please," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Jihyo told me everything. The bet, the stripping, the... everything." She winked at him, then turned back to Jihyo. "I have to admit, I was jealous when she told me. I wanted to know what it felt like to be so free, so comfortable. And now I get to find out."
Jihyo took Momo's hand and squeezed it. "We're going to take care of you today," she promised. "No more tired muscles. No more stress. Just relaxation and pleasure."
Momo's expression grew serious, though her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "I don't want to waste any further time," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's start the massage. I've been dying to get one since last year's one in Tokyo. That was heavenly, but I have a feeling this will be even better."
Jihyo guided her toward the bedroom, her hand still clasped in Momo's. She showed her the outfit laid out on the bed, the white lingerie that matched her own beneath her dress. Momo's eyes widened as she took in the delicate lace, the sheer fabric.
"Oh my," Momo breathed, picking up the panties and holding them up. "This is... this is beautiful. And very erotic. Just from the outfit, I can tell this is going to be an experience."
They both stripped, Jihyo removing her sundress to reveal the white lingerie beneath, Momo peeling off her casual clothes until she was in her own underwear, which she then replaced with the set provided. The fit was perfect, hugging Momo's slimmer frame in all the right places, the white lace contrasting beautifully with her skin.
He stayed outside the bedroom door, giving them privacy to change and prepare, though his imagination was running wild with what was happening on the other side of that door. He could hear their soft voices, the rustle of fabric, the occasional giggle. His heart pounded in his chest, anticipation making his hands tremble slightly.
After what felt like an eternity but was likely only minutes, the door opened, and Jihyo emerged. She was still wearing the white lingerie, looking like a vision of bridal innocence and seductive intent all at once. She walked up to him, rose on her toes, and kissed him softly on the lips, a promise of what was to come.
"Everything's ready," she whispered against his mouth. "We're both laying on the bed, waiting for you. Take your time. Make us feel good."
He nodded, his throat too tight to speak, and followed her into the bedroom.
(Japanese JAV Actress, Waka Misona)
The scene that greeted him was indeed heavenly. The bedroom had been transformed, the lights dimmed, candles lit around the perimeter of the room casting flickering shadows on the walls. The bed was covered in fresh white sheets, and lying upon them were two of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Momo was laying on her stomach near the edge of the bed, her cheek resting on her folded arms, her eyes closed. Her body was long and lean, the white lace of the lingerie doing little to conceal the curve of her ass or the length of her thighs. Beside her, Jihyo had positioned herself similarly, her fuller curves creating a beautiful contrast to Momo's slighter frame.
On the bedside table sat bottles of massage oil, several varieties, along with warm towels. He approached the bed, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He picked up a bottle of oil, one infused with jasmine and sandalwood, and poured a generous amount into his palms. He rubbed his hands together, warming the oil, preparing himself.
He started with Momo, placing his oiled hands on her calves. Her skin was soft, the muscle beneath firm from years of dance. He squeezed gently at first, then with more pressure, working his way up her legs. He paid attention to every inch, kneading the tension from her muscles, his thumbs pressing into the knots he found along the way. Momo sighed, a long, contented sound, her body sinking deeper into the mattress.
As he worked his way up her thighs, he moved to Jihyo, alternating between them, keeping the sensation continuous. He worked Jihyo's calves with the same thorough attention, feeling the tightness there from yesterday's practice. She groaned softly, her hips shifting slightly on the bed.
He moved higher, his hands sliding up their thighs, the oil making his movements smooth and gliding. He went dangerously close to the junction of their legs, his thumbs brushing the inner thighs, that sensitive skin that made them both shiver. He could feel the heat radiating from their cores, could see the way the white lace was becoming translucent with oil and arousal.
With deliberate slowness, he reached for the waistband of Momo's panties, then Jihyo's. He didn't remove them completely. Instead, he pulled the fabric tight, making it form a thin string that disappeared between their cheeks, exposing the outer lips of their sexes to the air and to his gaze. The white lace was now a mere suggestion, a frame for the pink, glistening flesh it revealed.
He used the taut fabric to his advantage, running his thumbs along the edges where lace met skin, then sliding beneath the fabric to touch them more directly. They grunted in unison, their bodies tensing at the intimate contact. Jihyo shivered particularly violently, her back arching slightly off the bed.
"Oh god," she breathed, her voice muffled by her arms. "Right there. Please, don't stop."
Momo made a sound of agreement, her own hips lifting slightly, seeking more contact. "His hands are so warm," she whispered to Jihyo, though he could hear her clearly. "I can feel every callus, every ridge. It's like he's mapping my body."
He continued his work, his fingers dancing along the edges of their panties, teasing the sensitive skin, occasionally dipping lower to brush against their entrances, gathering the wetness that was already flowing freely. He kept the touch light, maddeningly light, building the anticipation until they were both squirming on the bed, their breath coming in short gasps.
"Turn over," he instructed, his voice rough with his own arousal. "I need to see your faces."
They obeyed, rolling onto their backs with languid movements. The sight that greeted him was breathtaking. Both women had their eyes closed, their cheeks flushed, their chests heaving. The white lace bras were soaked with oil, sticking to their skin like a second layer, revealing everything and nothing. Jihyo's breasts were full and heavy, spilling slightly from the cups, her nipples hard peaks visible through the sheer fabric. Momo's were smaller, pert and perfect, the dark circles of her areolas visible beneath the lace.
He reached for the oil again, but this time he didn't pour it into his hands. He held the bottle over Jihyo's chest and tipped it, letting the golden liquid pour directly onto her nipples, pooling in her cleavage. She gasped at the coolness of it, her back arching. He repeated the action with Momo, watching as the oil slid down her stomach, pooling in her navel.
He set the bottle aside and went to work. He started with Jihyo, using both hands to massage the oil into her breasts. He squeezed them firmly, lifting them, shaping them, his thumbs circling the nipples but never quite touching them directly. The fabric was long dissolved in oil now, transparent and clinging, revealing the dark rose of her areolas, the hardness of her peaks.
Momo received the same treatment, his hands moving to her chest, kneading her smaller breasts with the same thorough attention. He pinched her nipples through the soaked lace, rolling them between his fingers, making her cry out.
"So good," Momo moaned, her head falling back against the pillow. "Jihyo, you were right. His hands are magic."
Jihyo could only whimper in response, her body writhing beneath his touch. He spent twenty minutes on their breasts, an eternity of sensual torture, circling their nipples, squeezing the firm flesh, watching their reactions with intense focus.
He went inside the fabric, his fingers sliding beneath the lace to touch skin directly, circling their nipples with his oiled fingertips, feeling them harden further at his touch.
When he finally released their breasts, they were panting, their bodies glistening with oil and sweat. He moved down, his hands sliding over their stomachs, dipping into their navels, then lower.
He reached the waistbands of their panties and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulled the fabric to the side, exposing their pussies completely. The white lace was bunched at their hips, no longer serving any purpose of modesty.
He poured oil directly onto their sexes, watching it slide between their folds, mixing with their arousal. He slid his palms over their private parts, using broad, sweeping strokes that covered their entire mounds. He pressed firmly, grinding the heel of his hand against their clits, making them both cry out.
"Please," Jihyo begged, her voice breaking. "Please, I need more. I need you inside."
He didn't make them wait any longer. He slid two fingers into Jihyo, curling them immediately to find her spot, while his thumb stayed pressed against her clit. With his other hand, he did the same to Momo, entering her slowly, feeling her tightness contract around his fingers.
He fingered them both simultaneously, his hands moving in rhythm, thrusting deep, curling to hit those perfect spots, his thumbs circling their clits with relentless pressure. They moaned in stereo, their voices harmonizing in the room, their hips bucking against his hands.
"Oh god, oh god, I'm close," Momo gasped, her hands gripping the sheets white-knuckled.
"Me too," Jihyo cried out. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."
He increased his pace, his fingers moving faster, harder, driving them toward the edge. He felt Jihyo clamp down on his fingers first, her orgasm crashing through her with a scream that filled the room. Her body convulsed, her back arching off the bed, her juices flowing over his hand. Momo followed seconds later, her own climax ripping through her with equal intensity, her voice rising in a cry of pure pleasure.
He kept his fingers inside them, gentling his touch now, helping them ride out the waves, milking every last spasm from their bodies. When they finally stilled, their chests heaving, their eyes glazed with satisfaction, he slowly withdrew his hands.
They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, then slowly, as if moved by a single thought, they both sat up. Their eyes were dark with renewed desire, their bodies glowing in the candlelight. They looked at each other, then at him, and smiles that were positively predatory spread across their faces.
They reached for him together, their hands finding the waistband of his jeans. They worked together to unbutton, unzip, and pull his pants down, freeing his cock which had been straining against the fabric for what felt like hours. He was hard as steel, precum already beading at the tip, his arousal at fever pitch from touching them, from watching them come apart.
They pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed, then knelt before him, one on each side. Momo took him in her right hand, Jihyo in her left, and they stroked him together, their hands meeting at the top, sliding down to the base, working in perfect synchronization.
Then Momo leaned in first, her tongue darting out to lick the drop of precum from his tip. She hummed at the taste, then opened her mouth and took him inside. She was warm and wet, her tongue flat against his underside as she bobbed her head, taking him deep, her hand working the base where her mouth couldn't reach.
Jihyo watched for a moment, her hand still stroking him in time with Momo's movements, then she leaned in and began to lick his balls, her tongue soft and wet, sucking one into her mouth, then the other, while Momo continued to work his shaft. The dual sensation was overwhelming, the sight of them sharing him, working together to bring him pleasure, was almost enough to make him lose control right then.
They switched places, Jihyo taking him into her mouth, her technique different from Momo's, more aggressive, her hand twisting as she sucked. Momo moved to his balls, her tongue tracing patterns on the sensitive skin, her hand reaching up to stroke his thigh, his hip, anywhere she could touch.
"Your mouth feels so good," he groaned, his hands finding their hair, stroking their heads, encouraging them. "Both of you... god, you look incredible."
They took turns like that, passing him back and forth, sometimes both licking him at the same time, their tongues meeting around his shaft, kissing each other with his cock between them. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, these two beautiful women, completely devoted to his pleasure.
When he was on the brink, his balls tight, his cock throbbing, they pulled back with wicked smiles. They weren't done with him yet.
Jihyo climbed onto the bed first, positioning herself on her hands and knees, her ass presented to him, glistening with oil and arousal. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes heavy with desire.
"Take me first," she commanded. "I need to feel you inside me."
He didn't need to be asked twice. He positioned himself behind her, grasping her hips, and thrust into her in one powerful stroke. She cried out, her back arching, her body pushing back to meet him. He set a hard, fast pace, driving into her with abandon, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room.
Momo didn't stay idle. She positioned herself beneath Jihyo, her head between Jihyo's legs, and began to lick her clit while he fucked her from behind. The sensation of being filled while being licked drove Jihyo wild, her cries becoming louder, more desperate.
"I'm going to come again," she warned, her voice breaking. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."
He felt her orgasm rip through her, her walls clamping down on him, milking him, but he held back, not ready to finish yet. He pulled out, his cock glistening with her arousal, and turned to Momo.
"My turn," Momo said, her voice husky. She pushed him onto his back on the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. She reached down and guided him into her, sinking down slowly, her eyes rolling back at the sensation of being filled.
She rode him slowly at first, her hips rolling in circles, her hands braced on his chest. Her breasts bounced with the motion, still encased in the oil-soaked lace, her nipples hard and visible. Jihyo, recovered from her orgasm, moved to sit behind Momo, reaching around to cup her breasts, to pinch her nipples, to kiss her neck.
"Does he feel good inside you?" Jihyo whispered in Momo's ear, loud enough for him to hear.
"So good," Momo gasped, her pace quickening. "He's so deep. I can feel every inch."
Jihyo's hands moved down Momo's body, finding her clit, rubbing it in tight circles while Momo rode him. The combined stimulation was too much for Momo, and she came with a scream, her body convulsing, her walls gripping him so tightly he saw stars.
Before she could fully recover, he lifted her off him and laid her on her back. He positioned himself between her legs and entered her again, this time in missionary, able to see her face, to watch her expressions as he thrust into her. Jihyo moved to kneel beside them, watching them fuck, her hand between her own legs, touching herself.
"Fuck her hard," Jihyo commanded, her eyes dark. "Make her come again."
He obeyed, pounding into Momo with deep, powerful strokes, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside her. Momo wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her nails scratching down his back, leaving red marks that would last for days.
"Yes, yes, yes," Momo chanted, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Right there. Don't stop. I'm going to... I'm going to..."
She came again, her third orgasm of the session, her body going rigid beneath him, her mouth open in a silent scream. He pulled out before he could finish, his control hanging by a thread.
"Both of you," he gasped. "I need both of you."
They understood. Jihyo lay on her back, and Momo positioned herself on top of her, but facing the opposite direction, in a sixty-nine position. Jihyo began to lick Momo's pussy, cleaning her arousal, while Momo did the same to Jihyo. He stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at the erotic sight of them pleasuring each other, their bodies intertwined.
He entered Jihyo first, sliding into her from behind while she ate Momo. He could feel Momo's tongue occasionally brush against his shaft as he moved, the sensation driving him wild. He fucked Jihyo with deep, steady strokes, feeling her moan against Momo's pussy, the vibration making Momo cry out.
He switched then, pulling out of Jihyo and entering Momo, who was already dripping and ready for him. He took her from behind while she continued to lick Jihyo, the angle different, tighter, making him groan. They moved like that, a tangle of limbs and pleasure, switching between them, taking them both, until he was on the absolute edge.
Finally, he pulled out and lay on his back in the middle of the bed, utterly spent but not quite finished. Jihyo and Momo moved to either side of him, their bodies slick with oil and sweat and arousal. They kissed him, their mouths tasting of each other and of him, their tongues sliding against his in a messy, passionate exchange.
They pulled back, their tongues out, showing him the white strings of saliva connecting them, then they leaned in and kissed each other over his chest, their breasts pressing against him, their hands stroking his spent cock, his chest, anywhere they could touch.
They lay there in the aftermath, three bodies entwined on the oil-drenched sheets, their breathing slowly returning to normal. The candles had burned low, the room smelling of jasmine and sex and sweat. He lay in the middle, his arms around both of them, feeling their hearts beating against his chest, knowing that this was just the beginning of something that would last far beyond this single afternoon.
Momo nuzzled her face into his neck, placing a soft kiss there. "I think," she whispered, her voice drowsy and satisfied, "that I need to visit more often."
Jihyo laughed, a warm, contented sound. "I think," she agreed, her hand finding his and squeezing, "that we can arrange that."
The afternoon light had shifted, casting longer shadows across the bedroom floor, when he finally stirred from the tangle of limbs and sheets. His body felt heavy, saturated with pleasure and exhaustion, every muscle loose and languid. He opened his eyes to find Jihyo still nestled against his right side, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, her breathing slow and even. Momo was on his left, her leg thrown over his thigh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest, drawing through the mixture of oil and sweat that coated his skin.
"We should move," he murmured, his voice rough, throat dry from all the groaning and gasping.
Momo hummed, a contented sound vibrating against his ribs. "Do we have to?" she asked, her words muffled. "I think I live here now. This is my home. I am a permanent fixture."
Jihyo laughed, the sound sleepy and warm. "You would turn into a prune if you stayed in this bed forever," she said, stretching her arms above her head, her back arching off the mattress. "And we have made a terrible mess of these sheets. They are ruined. Completely ruined."
He sat up slowly, his head spinning slightly from the exertion, and looked down at the bed. She was right. The white sheets were now a disaster of oil stains and bodily fluids, crumpled and damp, clinging to their bodies where they lay. The smell of sex and jasmine hung heavy in the air, thick and musky.
They disentangled themselves with reluctant movements, peeling apart where skin had stuck to skin. Momo sat up and immediately groaned, her hand going to her lower back. "I am going to feel this tomorrow," she said, rotating her shoulders. "In the best possible way, but still. I will be walking like I have ridden a horse across the entire country."
Jihyo stood first, her legs trembling slightly as she found her balance. The white lingerie she still wore was completely destroyed, the lace torn in places, stained beyond recognition, hanging off her body in tatters. She peeled it off with a grimace, the fabric sticking to her oily skin, and dropped it into the wastebasket beside the bed. "These are garbage now," she announced. "A casualty of war."
Momo followed suit, removing her own ruined set, but instead of throwing it away, she held it up, examining the damage with a smirk. "I am keeping these," she decided. "As a souvenir. A memento of this very excellent afternoon."
They shuffled into the bathroom together, too tired and intimate to bother with modesty. He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until steam began to rise, filling the small room with fog. They stepped under the spray together, the three of them fitting awkwardly but perfectly in the enclosed space, bodies pressed together out of necessity.
The water ran brown at first, carrying away the oil and sweat and evidence of their activities down the drain. They took turns soaping each other, the touches functional now, gentle and caring. He washed Jihyo's back, his thumbs pressing into the knots that had formed from their activities, working them loose until she moaned in relief. Momo washed her own hair, the suds running down her body, mixing with the streams of water that cascaded over her breasts and down her stomach.
When they emerged, wrapped in fluffy towels, their skin was pink and clean, the oil finally gone, though the memory of the touch remained in their relaxed postures. They dressed in the living room, retrieving clothes from where they had been discarded hours earlier. Jihyo pulled on a pair of soft cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt, forgoing underwear entirely, her body too sensitive for any constriction. He pulled on his jeans and a fresh shirt from the laundry basket, the fabric smelling of detergent and home.
Momo dressed slowly, pulling on her cropped t-shirt and shorts, her movements deliberate, as if reluctant to cover the skin that had been so thoroughly worshipped. She sat on the couch to pull on her sneakers, bending forward to tie the laces, and when she sat up, she found Jihyo standing before her, holding out a bottle of water.
"Drink," Jihyo commanded. "You are probably dehydrated. We all are."
Momo took the bottle and drank gratefully, the water cold and refreshing against her parched throat. She stood, and the three of them moved toward the front door, the goodbyes lingering, none of them quite ready to end the day.
"I will see you at practice tomorrow?" Momo asked Jihyo, though they both knew the answer.
"Of course," Jihyo replied, stepping forward to embrace her friend. They held each other for a long moment, a different kind of intimacy now, soft and supportive. When they pulled apart, Jihyo kissed Momo's cheek, then her mouth, a gentle press of lips that spoke of affection and shared secrets.
Momo turned to him then, her expression shy suddenly, despite everything they had done together. She stepped close, rising on her toes, and kissed him as well, her lips soft and tasting faintly of mint from the toothpaste they had shared in the bathroom.
"Thank you," she whispered against his mouth. "For the massage. For everything. I will be thinking about this for a very long time."
He smiled down at her, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "Come back soon," he said. "Anytime. The door is always open."
She stepped back, her smile bright and genuine, then opened the door and stepped out into the evening air. The sun was setting now, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. She turned once on the doorstep, waving, her silhouette framed by the dying light, then she was gone, walking toward her car with a slight limp that made him grin with masculine pride.
Jihyo closed the door and leaned back against it, her eyes meeting his. The house was quiet now, just the two of them again, but the atmosphere had shifted permanently, expanded to include the possibility of more, of Momo, of future afternoons spent in similar fashion.
"Alone at last," Jihyo said, her voice teasing, though her eyes were soft.
He stepped toward her and gathered her in his arms, feeling her fit against him as if she had been designed for that exact purpose. "Alone," he agreed. "But not lonely. Never lonely."
She rested her head on his chest, and they stood there in the entryway, holding each other as the last light of day faded from the windows, content in the knowledge that this was only the beginning.
