Me in You, You in Me

The first thing that Aria was aware of, when the damnably piercing sunlight ruptured her cozy bubble of sleep, was her thick, meaty cock poking at the bedsheets draped over her. She growled, baring her teeth at nothing in particular, aware at once of a sort of restlessness she knew all too well.

She sat up, peeling back the covers. They slid across her naked skin, soft and delightfully silky, but each second the fabric brushed over the tip of her fat cock, she had to stifle another growl.

There were some days when she felt like that thing between her legs ruled her. After a lifetime of living with it, she’d thought at times that she must be used to it, but it still felt as though, some days, it woke up, decided that it was going to fuck something, and resolved to make Aria’s live miserable until she complied. She found it difficult to think, and not just because she was still bleary-eyed and pissed off at having to get up.

But, when her eyes fell on the thing that’d rousted her, she felt a smug smirk coming on. It stood there, proudly jutting from her loins, aimed squarely at the ceiling, demanding that all eyes in the room come to it. It stood there like a beacon of virility, a font of red-hot sex constrained only by lonely circumstance.

A smile playing on her lips, Aria reached down and touched it. Her fingers knew the surface well, after so many years of playing with it; she felt it throbbing eagerly, blasting pulses of heat into her palm. It twitched, she groaned; she wrapped her fingers around it, gave it a long pump.

Of course, what she’d also learned well from so many years was what it needed. What was good enough. What was woefully inadequate.

… And, she recalled as she stroked, what was just barely enough to sate it, but teetered so closely on the line between “good enough” and “just not right.”

Her fingers?

Fast food.

And this thing wants a fucking feast, Aria thought with a leering grin, wrapping her hand tightly around her shaft, choking the damn thing for being so petty one moment and petting it encouragingly for giving her ideas the next.

She looked over at the clock on the wall opposite her bed. Just past nine in the morning.

Too fucking early.

But she dragged herself out of bed, lurching over to her dresser just long enough to stuff her tits into a tank top before shambling out into the hall, bare feet sinking into carpeted floor, thick cock leading the way. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she went, grimacing and wishing the sun was a woman so she could fuck into a coma in exchange for a day of respite.

But alas.

She eventually rounded a corner that left her standing in the living room, where her eyes darted about until she spied Sonata sitting at the dining table—most any other day, Aria would’ve quietly hated how Sonata got to be perky and cheerful in the mornings, but some days it had its perks.

Because, after all, the best part about being a siren was living with two other sirens. And the best part of that was how impeccably fuckable they were.

Sonata sat at that table, wearing a tight T-shirt that clung flush against her delectable tits and bared a thin strip of flat midriff, and shorts so tiny they might as well have been called underwear. Sonata herself had her cheek propped up on one hand, idly fidgeting with a pencil in her other while staring at a crossword puzzle. She yawned, opening that mouth of hers so wide it was practically begging for something to fill it.

The walk from her bedroom had made Aria go slightly limp, but a few moments of staring at Sonata’s naked thighs, picturing what it’d be like to spread ‘em wide and rip those shorts off, imagining how those tits would bounce when Sonata was properly stuffed…

Granite didn’t have shit on Aria’s cock.

So she swaggered on over, putting a little sway in her hips but padding lightly along on the balls of her feet.

“ ‘Morning, Sonata,” she said, but only when she’d sat down across the table from Sonata; her erection hid sneakily underneath the table.

Sonata turned to her with a start, surprised eyes popping open wide. “Good morning, Aria!” she chirped as soon as she’d recovered, then whipped her head towards the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be up, so I didn’t start making breakfast, but—”

“That’s fine.” Aria waved dismissively with her left hand; her right snaked under the table, wrapping around her cock. She gave it a long, lazy stroke, fixing her attention on Sonata’s chest.

It was sexier, somehow, when Sonata didn’t know what was happening, when she didn’t realize right away that Aria was touching herself. It made it less that Sonata was using her assets to turn someone on, and more like Aria was selfishly plundering them for her own gratification.

Whatever the reason, it was blisteringly hot.

“Oh, okay,” Sonata said, quirking her lips and returning with a sigh to her crossword. “I’ll wait till Adagio’s up, then.”

“Yeah.” Aria suppressed a grunt; she pumped her hand up and down, slowly caressing the veiny flesh with her fingers.

She didn’t need to do it for very long. Just enough to get herself nice and worked up. While she could happily beat off all day long, if Sonata stuck around, she had her eye on other things.

“But, if you’re looking for something to do in the meantime…”

One of the downsides of living with a cock-addicted slut: Aria practically had to keep her on a leash whenever they went out.

One of the upsides, when Aria’s was the one and only cock in the household…

Well. Put two and two together; it meant she got to fuck Sonata whenever she felt like it—which was pretty damn often.

All she had to do was stand up and walk on over. Her engorged, needy dick winked and drooled as she rose. Sonata’s eyes lit up; it must’ve been a struggle for her to not pop out of her clothes and hurl herself at it cunt-first, but she was a good little whore and stayed in her chair when Aria pressed a hand down on her head.

Her mouth was already at the perfect height, after all. Why did she need to move?

Aria slipped her leg between Sonata’s, spreading them apart and standing between them. When Sonata didn’t take the initiative right away, Aria let out a growl and pivoted her hips; her cock swung like a baton, striking Sonata’s cheek with a wet slap and leaving a gooey smear where it touched.

“Well?” Aria grunted, her hungry, neglected cock twitching at the sight and sound of Sonata yelping and rubbing at her cheek. “What’re you waiting for?”

With a flustered shake of her head, Sonata started to mumble an apology that got cut off when Aria prodded at her lips with the tip of her erection. Aria let out a groan as Sonata opened wide and popped her inside; her lips were smooth and plump, the perfect pillows to handle a shaft as girthy as Aria’s. It was like plunging her dick into a sauna; damp warmth embraced it from every side.

The effect it had on Sonata was always a puzzling one. She was normally so fidgety, so flighty; the hardest thing in the world for her was to stay still without something to do. And even when she did find something to do, her short attention span made itself known quickly.

And yet, when she had a cock stuffed into her throat?

She was downright serene.

She closed her eyes while she started suckling on Aria’s tip. Her tongue darted up to swirl about, gracing Aria’s tip and shaft with electrically ecstatic touches from every angle. Aria moaned, long and loudly, rolling her hips forward to slide a little more into Sonata’s mouth, which went eagerly accepted.

Sonata started bobbing her head slowly, but every time she drew back, Aria was quick to press on the back of her head and shove her back into place. It made for a disjointed rhythm at first, but Sonata caught on quickly; she was a toy, not a partner.

If anything, Sonata seemed to like it more that way. She relaxed as she let Aria force her head into position, complied in obedient silence broken only by a content moan here and there. Which made Aria smile at first. Until she remembered that half the fun of having toys was in breaking them. With a scowl and without warning, she grabbed a handful of Sonata’s hair and yanked, timing it with a thrust of her hips to mash Sonata’s face as close to her pelvis as it’d go. Sonata yelped, instinctively trying to draw back, but Aria kept her head pinned there.

Slowly at first, but building up in speed and sharpness, Aria rocked her hips back and forth, roughly fucking Sonata’s face. She grunted each time she went inside; all these years, she’d never found out what Sonata’s limit was when it came to fitting cock in her mouth, and it’d always infuriated her that Sonata could deepthroat even her—she had never seen a cock as big as hers.

“You—” Thrust “—stupid—” Thrust “—fucking—” Thrust “—bitch!”

Sonata didn’t care about being called that, of course. Aria didn’t think there was room in her head just then to care about anything that wasn’t attached to Aria’s nethers.

But Aria sure got a kick out of it. Her lip curled into a leering grin, excitement blending with musky arousal. She rammed her cock deep into Sonata’s throat, giving her a faceful of balls in the process.

For a few minutes, life was fucking peachy for Aria. She plunged her cock into Sonata’s compliant, whoreish mouth again and again and again, lips squeezing her shaft snugly.

Out the corner of her eye, movement on the house’s only staircase beckoned her. She glanced and saw a long, supple, buttery leg stepping daintily down, soon joined by another one.

Aria felt her pulse quickening.

The thin nightie Adagio wore accentuated far more than it hid. It was opaque only strategically, offering hints of a navel through translucent fabric, highlighting the sensual curve that was the swell of Adagio’s breast.

And, if Aria let her gaze wander downwards, she thought she even caught a glimpse of Adagio’s pussy.

Which, it must be said, was not the most unusual of sights, not when none of the three didn’t have days where they never bothered dressing themselves. And Adagio’s day was not complete unless she’d given someone an image to masturbate to, and she liked getting an early start.

But, it must also be said… the more anyone wanted something, the less likely Adagio was to give it to them. And there were very, very few things people who met her wanted more than a shot at that pussy.

Aria hadn’t realized she’d stopped thrusting until she felt Sonata squirming.

“Good morning, girls,” Adagio purred, treading down on the carpet like it was a catwalk. It was a struggle for Aria to pry her eyes up, but she did, and she saw the most beautiful face in the world making a coquettish smirk.

Closer. Adagio was getting closer. Her tits were getting closer.

She slipped right past Aria into the kitchen. “Don’t fuck her so hard she can’t walk. I have some errands I need her to run today,” she said over her shoulder.

Aria clenched her teeth, scowling and giving an angry thrust into Sonata’s mouth that just didn’t feel satisfying at all anymore.

You. Cunt.

But she kept going, because what the fuck else was she going to do? She wasn’t going to get less horny if she stopped midway through, that’s for sure.

Sonata didn’t mind, of course. As soon as Aria went back to stuffing her mouth, she was all calm contentedness… or she would’ve been, if she hadn’t taken one hand away from Aria’s cock and shoved it down her shorts. Any other day, Aria would’ve punished her for that, but this time she just wanted to finish her fuck for the day.

Adagio was watching, of course. From a distance, leaning against a kitchen countertop, a finger pressed to her lips but otherwise coldly dispassionate.

Aria didn’t want to look at her, of course. Admitting that she was more excited by a barely-dressed Adagio than she was by a dick-sucking Sonata was exactly the sort of encouragement that’d go right to Adagio’s head.

Because sure, it was true that Adagio parading her immensely fuckable body absolutely did totally derail any effort to find someone else sexy, but she didn’t need to know that.

So Aria didn’t look at her. Nope, didn’t spare a single glance at her stupidly perfect tits. Or her implausibly fabulous hair. Or the smokey smirk that played on her lips when she caught Aria using her body like cheap porn to stay hard.

Fuck.

Aria growled, wrenched her attention away from Adagio and fucked Sonata’s face harder. She felt pressure building up in her cock, and for once there was no bittersweet sense to it. Fucking finally, she thought with a snarl. Anger swirled together with arousal to make a scorching heat that rushed through her veins.

Naturally, Adagio chose exactly that moment to press a note into her chest. “Give this a read, Aria” she said, slipping past with a mocking wink. “The sooner, the better,” she added over her shoulder as she walked away.

What a bitch.

Aria wadded up the note in her hand, clenching it in a balled fist and ramming her hips into Sonata’s face yet again.

She pointedly didn’t look at Adagio’s enticingly swaying rear. Nope, not once. That skanky tease of a cunt could fuck off and die for all Aria cared. She pictured herself ripping that skimpy scrap of silk off of Adagio and fucking her till they both collapsed, but if she never saw Adagio again she didn’t think she’d shed a tear.

One more thrust. Pleasure flooded her; her cock pulsed and spasmed, spewing a torrent of sticky cum into Sonata’s eagerly waiting throat. Aria growled, yanking her dick out of Sonata’s mouth so that a few spurts got to splatter over Sonata’s chest and shirt. Sonata looked—and probably felt—best when she was caked in Aria’s cum, which Aria would’ve taken a few moments to relish most other days.

But fucking Adagio.

Sonata was probably horny as hell after all that; she pulled a glistening, slick hand out of her pants, then turned her lustful, half-lidded eyes on Aria’s cock.

“I’m done with you,” Aria muttered, pausing to wipe both sides of her cock on Sonata’s cheeks before turning on her heel and marching off.

Fuck you all, she thought with clenched teeth, making a fist as she held up Adagio’s note.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“My Room. Ten Minutes.”