Me in You, You in Me

Aria was torn.

Her dick throbbed insistently, twitching at the sight laid in front of it. Adagio’s thighs glistened, gifted a prominent sheen by her juices.

One the one hand, while seeing Adagio naked was not exactly a rare occurrence, rarely did she allow—let alone invite—Aria to beat off to her like that.

On the other hand, Adagio’s smugly bitchy face said that she’d be veritably delighted to watch Aria jerk herself off, and every time Aria gave her what she wanted, she was telling her that she could pull this shit again and get away with it.

Sometimes, it felt like Aria was a puppet on strings, tugged about by her own dick and Adagio’s pussy.

Her hand gripped her shaft; already she felt the desperate thoughts of, “If I go along with it, she’ll let me fuck her eventually,” coming to her in a torrent. Justifications for wretched weakness.

Spite drove her to speak. “You told me not to make a mess. I’ll give you the best sponging of your life when you get in the shower after this.”

That offer made Adagio’s eyebrow lift. One of her hands dropped down, palm covering her pussy. The question—“In exchange for what?”—did not need to be spoken.

“I wanna fuck your tits,” Aria declared.

Adagio glanced down, innocently as if she were surprised anyone wanted to do that. With her free hand, she cupped one of said tits, giving it a jiggle, then giggling and squeezing them together. “Oh, I bet you do,” she said in a breathy murmur.

Aria clenched her teeth. You cunt.

“But…” Adagio made a blatantly exaggerated yawn. “… I don’t think I have the energy for that right now,” she mumbled, sitting up and dragging herself languidly off the bed.

Aria watched, marinating in a thick broth of anger and arousal, transfixed by the rarely-seen sight of Adagio’s ass peaking out through sweat-matted hair as Adagio bent over in front of her bookshelf.

It made Aria stir, and contemplate. If she wanted to—really wanted to, she could take Adagio by surprise. Dispense with the bargaining bullshit and all that crap, just shove a dick in her and be done with it. A dainty skank like Adagio probably couldn’t stop her.

It was difficult for her to rationalize sitting still. Her hand idly ran up her shaft, squeezing the girthy flesh, making her grunt and tense. Damn, what she wouldn’t give to be able to go over, push Adagio’s head down, and fuck her then and there till neither of them could walk.

Instead, like the beaten little bitch she was, she just sat there and waited, keeping herself sated with half-assed strokes of her dick until Adagio came sauntering back over clutching a book in her hand.

On the cover was an unreasonably buff, shirtless man cozying up with what someone might think Adagio looked like if their only experiencing of her was falling facefirst into her tits and watching her hair walk away afterwards—which actually fit with the book’s supposed origins; according to one source, Adagio had ‘accidentally’ fallen out of her top at a bar, and the author, who’d been watching from afar, sat right up, marched home, told his wife he was leaving her, packed his bags, drove nonstop to an isolated mountain cabin, and typed out a six-hundred-page manuscript that became an erotica novel he’d go on to make a fortune off of.

And Aria had to have a certain begrudging respect for a woman whose mammaries had shaped history like that.

Adagio, of course, vehemently denied that she’d ever creamed her panties reading that novel. And that she’d had nothing but dick on her mind when she went to track down the author, but she wasn’t fooling anyone.

And afterwards, she was livid at finding out the author had been the human world’s Star Swirl writing under a pseudonym—not so livid she didn’t suck him off, if anyone asked Aria—but she’d at least had the presence of mind to know that the fastest cure for her anger was a week of nice, hard poundings, so Aria didn’t have any complaints.

“You,” Adagio announced as she laid back down on the bed, pointedly lying on her side with her back facing Aria, “should be wary of pushing your luck after you brought that filthy cock near me.”

Aria’s hackles rose. There were those thoughts again, filling her head with all the things she could do to Adagio if she really, badly, desperately wanted to.

Good thing she wasn’t desperate. No, she was better than that.

She heard a page being turned, and her eyes flicked over to Adagio. She hadn’t covered herself up at all—her posture was… well, pretty damn sexy, but in more of an accidental way than a sultry one. Less like she’d set out to encourage Aria’s attention, more like she’d just happened to land in the most enticing sprawl.

Aria growled, leaning back against the headboard, spreading her legs to make room for her cock, which she gripped with one determined hand.

And she stared upwards, at the freakish ceiling mirror; it felt oddly voyeuristic, detached, to stare at Adagio that way, even though they were right next to each other, but the vertical angle gave a better view of Adagio’s tits, so…

Another page turned. Adagio shifted slightly. If she paid any attention to Aria, she hid it by poring over that stupid book.

Well, Aria growled, making herself a little more comfortable, feeling the warm, veiny heat of her cock nestling against her palm. Maybe you’re on to something.

In her head, Adagio was crawling towards her, on all fours. Obedient. Docile. Eager to please. Drooling over Aria’s cock.

Her tongue ran over her lips. She fidgeted, gave herself a stroke, groaned at the friction of her palm against her shaft.

Her dream-Adagio crept closer, knelt and spread her legs. Her pussy slavered, a ravenous voice between her legs, an emptiness that begged to be filled. The dream-Adagio quivered, trembled; she was a wreck, starved of cock, too horny to think.

Aria felt her hips rising instinctively. She stroked herself again, blinked, glanced at the real Adagio to refresh her memory. Not that she didn’t know Adagio’s body well, by now—they’d spent many nights spooning in the same bed, though often with Aria’s cock prodding at the ass it’d never once been allowed to fuck.

Talking of things that weren’t allowed…

Aria pictured herself sneering at the dream-Adagio. Dream-Aria stared at this whimpering slut who’d come to her on her knees, and laughed. “I’ve fucked a dozen pussies like yours,” Dream-Aria said with a scowl, but with a beckon, too. “Give me those fat tits; we’ll see if there’s something worth my time there.”

Another stroke. Aria closed her eyes, caught up for once in a pleasantly dreamy haze. She swam in an ocean of lust, lurid fantasies guiding her arm to make long, loving strokes. Her dick, slick to the touch, twitched and flexed under her ministrations.

A loud smack distracted her, the sound of flesh on flesh.

When she looked over, Adagio’s delectable ass was still jiggling. Aria watched it rippling as Adagio’s palm, after the initial, harsh impact, lingered to squeeze and knead. It momentarily entranced Aria, as if reminding her that there was a warm, sexy body in front of her, not just in her dreams.

It was uncanny how Adagio could tell what Aria’s been up to, but… if she’d reacted, that meant it’d gotten to her, and that was satisfying as fuck.

Aria swallowed, watching Adagio let go, go back to her book as if nothing had happened, and mutter a quiet, “Well? Carry on.”

Another stroke of Aria’s dick helped get her back into the swing of things. She constricted her fingers tightly, squeezing her dick roughly. It was a tool for fucking, not love-making; it didn’t do not-rough.

Dream-Adagio nodded eagerly, crawling towards dream-Aria’s lap, hoisting up her plump, pillowy breasts with her too-small hands. She squeezed them together, enveloping dream-Aria’s massive cock in soft, velvety blankets of heat.

Aria sucked in a sharp breath. She’d felt her strokes quickening. She could hear the soft smack of her palm against her abdomen as it jerked down, constricting her shaft.

Dream-Aria grinned, rocking her hips up slowly. The tip of her cock breached from an ocean of cleavage, caressed by silky-smooth flesh all the way up and all the way down. Dream-Aria bucked her hips, this time holding them at that crest, so the tip of her cock jutted out from between Dream-Adagio’s breasts.

Dream-Aria didn’t have to say anything. Some mouths were just made for gobbling cock. Dream-Adagio greedily sucked as much as she could into her mouth, giving the tip a wet, sloppy kiss.

The real Adagio stirred slightly, squeezing her thighs together. Aria kept pummeling at her dick, so engrossed in the rising pleasure accompanying her strokes that she only barely noticed that Adagio had put her book down.

Yeah. You know what you wanna pay attention to.

Aria grunted, letting her head loll, wondering how much longer she could go.

Dream-Adagio, of course, took the addition of dick-sucking to her titfucking with abundant aplomb. She moved her tits up and down, plunging it in and out of the snug tunnel of warmth they formed, serenading it with tonguey kisses when it left that pillowy heaven.

She was getting close. She could hear it in her breath, feel it in her quickening pulse, in the throbbing inside her cock. She groaned, pumping away like her life depended on the orgasm she already felt approaching with a slow, rumbling pace.

And there were those thoughts again. She peered through the hustful haze enveloping her, stared at Adagio’s invitingly naked body, and thought fuck it.

She sprang up onto her knees, giving her trembling cock one last jerk while roughly turning Adagio onto her back with her other hand. Adagio gave a start, opening her mouth just in time for a faceful of cum.

Aria’s dick practically exploded. The first spurt splattered onto Adagio’s face and throat, caking her in Aria’s cum. The second landed squarely on her tits; Aria dragged her dick, milking every drop she could until Adagio was caked in white from neck to pussy.

A still, thick silence hung over them as Aria’s orgasm petered out, the last few fat globs of her seed dribbling down onto Adagio’s stomach.

Adagio wiped at her cheek with her fingers, pausing to crinkle her nose at the clingy, webby strands that lingered between her fingertips, then scowled at Aria. “Get out,” she snarled. “And send Sonata up.”

Aria gave a snort of a laugh. She could live with having her toy taken away. She paused to savor the sight—because holy fuck, Adagio looked delectable drenched in cum like that—then smirked and stood up. “Have fun cleaning up,” she called out over her shoulder as she walked towards the door, then stood outside it and held a hand to her mouth. “Hey, Sonata! Adagio needs you!”

She heard the patter of approaching feet, then turned to take one last appreciative look at Adagio’s scowling face and painted tits.

She could see herself getting a few good wanks out of that mental image. Life was good.

When Aria left the room, it was like a boulder had been pushed off of Adagio’s back. She sighed after the door closed, finally letting herself pick a smear of cum off of her tits and greedily lick her fingers clean. The salty, tangy taste was intoxicating, fuelling an already-stimulated libido.

She knew Aria had a backbone somewhere in that sack of fat. How angry she must’ve gotten to finally show it off like that…

Well, it made Adagio wish Sonata had a cock too.

Rapid knocks rapped on her door. Speak of the devil… “Come in, Sonata,” she said.

Sonata slipped inside, just wearing an adorably sexy bra and panties with an all-too-obvious damp patch. Her mouth gaped when she saw Adagio. “D—Dagi? What—?”

“Close the door,” Adagio interjected. After her order was obeyed, she pointed to a drawer. “Get the purple one.”

Sonata’s eyes lit up. She squealed, clapping her hands excitedly before rushing over to the drawer, tearing it open, and then gasping again. “Oh my gosh, it’s even bigger than I remembered!”

Adagio grunted irritably.

With a timid squeak, Sonata pulled out a big, fat, absolutely gorgeous purple dildo, then darted onto the bed to kneel in front Adagio.

“I want you,” Adagio began, in a husky groan of a voice, sprawling out to show off as much of her body as she could, opening her legs to give Sonata room, dipping her hand in the sticky fluid coating her chest, “to rub as much of this as you can onto that thing and then fuck me with it until I can’t walk.”