Me in You, You in Me

The simple truth of the matter was that sometimes Adagio just liked sucking dick.

She didn’t always need an end goal; a favour to be gained, a pawn to be manipulated. On those occasions, she’d foist it off on one of the other two more often than not, anyway. No, sometimes she just enjoyed having a big tasty cock in her mouth, when bobbing her head in someone’s lap could be just as relaxing for her as for them.

It helped, perhaps, that – like most things she set her mind to, but particularly this – she was really fucking good at it.

And there were all the other dicks in the world, and then there was Sonata’s, which stood taller and weightier. Perhaps because it was attached to a girl, it smelled better, too. And, conveniently, it was far closer than any other, and belonged to someone who didn’t mind Adagio’s attentions in the slightest.

...That had been a stupid sentence. She must really have been losing herself into her task if her brain had shut down that far. No one would have minded her attention, of course. In any field, but least of all felatio. But it was probably fair to say that Sonata questioned it less than most, and didn’t see it as a sign of commitment or even vague interest beyond Adagio craving something for her mouth.

The memory of the first time had been lost somewhere to the haze of centuries, so Adagio really couldn’t recall Sonata’s initial reaction, or how quickly she’d grown used to it. But it was now the most natural thing in the world to them that sometimes after dinner Adagio would crawl up beside Sonata on the couch, pull the girl’s skirt up to expose her loins and wordlessly start going to town on her member.

Or Sonata might be lying on her bed one afternoon painting her nails in her underwear, and Adagio would slip in, barely even bothering to flash Sonata a smile before settling herself at the foot of the bed, peeling off Sonata’s lacy panties and tenderly reacquainting herself with the obedient blue shaft and balls.

Occasionally Adagio would even wake up early and sit Sonata spread-eagled on the kitchen worktop, letting her take a break from preparing breakfast while Adagio crouched on the floor in front of her. Sonata always wore silk bathrobes when she cooked breakfast, just in case Adagio wanted her favourite cock to be only a tied waist sash away.

At these times, Sonata would keep her reactions minimal, sitting back to enjoy it while stroking Adagio’s hair and cooing softly, occasionally biting her lip or moaning quietly. That was just how Adagio wanted it, so training Sonata to behave that way must have been a project of eons before.

Adagio just wanted a dick she could work on in private, hers to fondle and stimulate. Something that would unconcernedly cum in her mouth with no more than a gentle hand on the back of her head, like it was no big deal.

All of which had laid excellent groundwork for days like today, when she blew Sonata with a purpose.

Today, Sonata was slouched on the living room couch, bathrobe undone, legs wide apart with Adagio kneeling between them. The warm flesh of Sonata’s length filled Adagio’s mouth each time she sank her head, firm but tender against her tongue. Her lips were juicy cushions pressed against the shaft as it slid over them, so soft and inviting as to make a supermodel’s tits feel like concrete by comparison. She really did love sucking dick, sometimes.

But she couldn’t afford to get distracted by her own indulgences today, not when she probably only had a few minutes before Aria grew frustrated enough to find out where Sonata had got to. And Sonata’s balls needed to be empty by then.

That meant changing gear. Pulling herself reluctantly off Sonata’s cock, she swept the tip of her tongue down the underside of the shaft, hearing Sonata gasp at the break from the norm. Adagio slid her tongue all the way down to Sonata’s balls, which, without slowing, she then took into her mouth. Cold, clammy skin embedded with wrinkles and impregnated with musk overwhelmed her senses.

Ordinarily she probably would have made Sonata shower first. Maybe jumped in there with her, even, because Adagio knew few luxuries more pleasant and relaxing than someone else washing her hair, caressing shampoo into her scalp, while she contented herself with going down on them.

Of course, having Sonata wash her hair and then fuck her from behind when standing could be fun, too, if not quite as tranquil. But that was for another time. For now, Sonata’s delicate orbs filled her mouth, so vulnerable that Adagio felt strangely protective.

And yes, these definitely need emptying… Were they really any more swollen than normal, though, her rational side had to ask? They seemed it, like she could almost feel them full to bursting, but maybe that was just the impression anyone would get when so close to them, so connected.

Real or imagined, she had to hurry. Having her mouth busy elsewhere gave the perfect cover to bring in her hands to help with Sonata’s cock, wrapping her fist around the base and starting to pump it up and down, much more direct stimulation to bring about the sticky end goal.

And, within her mouth, her tongue wandered all over Sonata’s balls, tracing the veins, circling and teasing. A gasp at that prompted Adagio to look up, only to find Sonata staring down at her, alternating moment to moment between wide-eyed and eyes half closed deliriously.

The problem with eye contact during a blowjob, in Adagio’s book, was the unpleasant reminder that there was someone else attached to the end of the cock she was trying to enjoy sucking. But there were some advantages to be exploited, at least, if events conspired to prevent her from closing her eyes and appreciating her big throbbing meal in peace.

Looking Sonata in the eye, she sucked harder on the balls in her mouth, and at the same time tightened her fist at the base of the heavy cock and swung it several times into her own face, splattering saliva across her nose and forehead. Then, still not breaking Sonata’s gaze, she pulled free of the balls, angled the cock towards her mouth again and took the tip inside.

Sonata’s eyes held love and amazement as Adagio jerked her off, suckling the head as she did so. With her other hand, she wiped the excess drool from Sonata’s balls so they wouldn’t get cold, leaving them shining as if proud of the attention they’d received.

And then, with a wink up at Sonata, Adagio dropped her eyes to the shaft in front of her and drove herself onto its whole length.

She didn’t pause to marvel at how that girth stretched her throat, like it could hold no more but expanded to fit twice that amount anyway. Nor to frown at how she was the second girl to treat Sonata so this morning, and any comparisons made between the two in Sonata’s head. She just pushed herself straight back up again and then repeated the dive, again and again, the ridges in her throat taking the place of her fingers gripping the cock moments before.

She felt the viscous, clinging saliva in her throat welcome Sonata in, lubricating her up to slip in and out effortlessly. Though Adagio knew better than to act on it, a flight of fancy overtook her of peeling off her top and rubbing that slobbery cock all over her chest, hacking up more saliva to drool over it and herself too, beating her stiff nipples with that unyielding length and giving herself to the moist slap of each impact. No, not today.

Shame, though. When was the last time she’d got properly messy sucking a cock? Probably that time a few months ago, when... A moan made its way up from her throat around the enormous twitching shaft distending it, escaping into the air in the gaps between each entry, her composure overcome by the physical sensations of right then on top of the remembered ones from that day.

They had been her favourite shoes, after all, those stilettos, and one did not discard such footwear without a proper send-off!

So she’d worn only them as she splayed herself out on her back on the kitchen table, hair tied back and head hanging over the edge, and had Sonata stand over her and facefuck her for several hours. Even Aria had rubbed one out just watching. And by the end of it, aching, drenched in sweat, spit and cum both inside and out, she’d firmly established that day as the time she made Sonata cum five times, rather than when she broke her nice black heels.

And if she’d managed to drag that fifth orgasm out of Sonata back then, supplying her first today should be no effort at all. Especially when the memory spurred Adagio to push herself harder, jackhammering her head up and down over Sonata’s crotch, every downward surge plunging the mighty cock deep into her throat, her lusty imagination suggesting it almost reached her stomach.

Glancing upwards revealed that Sonata’s eyes were closed, lips parted and trembling, tiny sounds coming out of her mouth with each rapid breath. Maybe it shouldn’t have taken Aria’s behaviour to prompt Adagio into action. Sonata deserved a life full of amazing orgasms just as much as any of them, and Adagio’s body was a tool perfectly crafted to provide them.

No, that made it sound like charity work, and the very thought threatened to turn Adagio off then and there for the whole day, so she instead dwelled on how Sonata’s proud member at that moment was delivering everything she wanted. Sonata’s cock, like the rest of her, was so expressive, swelling and pulsing in answer to Adagio’s stimulations. Sucking Sonata off from start to finish wasn’t far off a conversation for Adagio, and one that grated far less than those Sonata used her mouth to participate in.

And it wasn’t just that Adagio probably ought to do more to thank Sonata for that from time to time. There was a better, less selfless reason too: Adagio had to admit that occasionally Aria wasn’t the only dickless siren in the household with a mouth that loved to be fucked.

Again an idle fantasy occurred to her, of how nice it would be to stand Sonata up and get properly facefucked, feeling that huge blue cock ramming the whole way into her with each hip thrust, like any protests her throat might make at the treatment simply didn’t matter.

That would be fun, but Sonata was almost ready to pop, and pausing to change positions would reset everything. Today, speed and efficiency had priority, and…

No.

No, that didn’t sound very ‘her.’ That was letting someone else’s whims dictate your actions. Putting their needs over your own. Why even bother being a siren if you couldn’t indulge yourself when you wanted? Especially when that indulgence involved being a goddess treated like a whore.

Her hand closed around Sonata’s shaft again as she drew her mouth away, noting how her fist glided over the soft, sensitive skin almost as easily as her lips did, such was the amount of saliva she’d drowned it in.

“On your feet,” she commanded, surprised and amused by how it came out as a growl after a few minutes of having her larynx be pushed aside for other purposes.

Sonata’s eyes fluttered open, revealing a face flushed red and now painted with confusion. “Dagi…?” she managed to mumble.

The hand around Sonata’s shaft closed tighter, a couple of firm tugs upwards providing no-nonsense direction that Sonata needed to be upright and standing. But she still looked lost as she struggled to sit up.

“My mouth needs fucking,” Adagio said, looking Sonata dead in the eye with not far off a glare. “Get up, jam your cock down my throat, and fuck my face until you cum.”

Wide-eyed, Sonata jerked her head up and down in acknowledgement as she scrambled up, struggling to find her balance on unsteady legs. Her bathrobe hung loose and open, practically falling off her shoulders, and her cock looked all the bigger perpendicular to her body when standing.

Adagio, who was going to do this properly if it was worth doing at all, pulled off her top, freeing tits she hadn’t yet bothered to stuff into a bra that morning. Hers were better than other girls’ tits, naturally, and she’d achieved many great things with them over the years. But ultimately they remained just tits, which were universally improved by being out in the open, jiggling up and down with every thrust and inviting copious loads to be blown on them.

Inviting it, even when Sonata’s load had already been earmarked for elsewhere.

That left Adagio in only her thin, lacy little panties, particularly glad she’d happened to choose pale pink ones today, helping her feel all the more demure and vulnerable for what was to come. Those panties were already soaked through, of course, her pussy crying out for the attention her mouth was due to receive.

With softer eyes, Adagio looked up from where she knelt waiting. “You’re in charge, ok? Can you handle that?”

Sonata’s determination was offset by how she bit her lip, so Adagio added further instructions. “Push my head down, have your wicked way with my mouth, and don’t let me up unless I’ve swallowed every last drop.”

As expected when Adagio said things like that to Sonata – or to anyone, really – lust soon overcame nerves. Sonata stepped closer to stand right in front of Adagio’s face, one foot either side of her kneeling legs, and reached out gingerly to cup the back of Adagio’s neck.

With her hands resting atop her thighs, Adagio let herself be guided by Sonata closer to the object which would soon be treating her mouth as a playground. She closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly, tantalised by the anticipation of having to wait for that cock to be in her mouth again, even though less than a minute had passed since it was last.

A moment later, the pressure of the head of a plump cock effortlessly pushed her lips wide apart and slipped between them, so unyielding in its approach it would have slid in just as smoothly if it weren’t already slick with Adagio’s spit.

She’d worried Sonata’s slow pace and caring hold on her neck would lead her to be hesitant or gentle, but sighed joyfully as her mouth was pushed unflinchingly right down to the base of Sonata’s length, Adagio’s beautiful yellow blowjob lips now pressed hard against a supple blue abdomen.

There was definitely a very different thrill to having Sonata take the reins for it. The girth in her throat felt far larger than when she’d steered it there herself, far more choking and invasive as it forced her body to stretch around it. It didn’t just fill her mouth and throat; it filled all of her, blotting out all other sensations. Even the balls rubbing against her chin, still damp from her efforts earlier, seemed distant in comparison to the planet’s-worth of cock in her airways.

And she could still feel it twitching as it sat there, tensing and relaxing as if exploring its new surroundings and making itself at home, with no urgency given to Adagio’s inability to breathe. That was another good sign! Adagio wouldn’t splutter like some virgin schoolgirl, she’d let that cock block her windpipe until she passed out if necessary, and thank Sonata afterwards for being selfish enough to do the job properly.

Although Sonata might find her more fun when awake, all the same.

The pressing on the back of her neck eased off, and the gargantuan shaft was dragged from her throat, torturous in how empty its slow withdrawal left her. Adagio snatched a discreet breath when able, drawing the renewed scent of Sonata’s musk seemingly down to her lungs, furthering the impression of that cock occupying every bit of her.

Sonata’s hand moved to the crown of Adagio’s head, soon joined by another, in a solid grip with fingers spread out across her skull. But the expected push downwards didn’t come, and Sonata’s length hung suspended in the air with only the tip brushing Adagio’s lips, as lightly as a smooth, wet feather.

Opening her eyes to look upwards, Adagio found Sonata smiling down at her. But not at her face, no; Sonata’s eyes were drinking in the sight of Adagio’s bare breasts, her expression balanced between lust and serenity.

Coquettishly, Adagio kept looking up at Sonata as she shifted on her knees, the stirring movement turning her tits one way then the other, highlighting their fine curve from different angles.

Sonata’s eyes lit up. Then the sharp push came, slamming Adagio’s mouth onto the cock in front of her, violating her throat almost too fast for her senses to process.

Then it was gone again, then back, then gone, then… Twice a second, Adagio’s head was forced down, while Sonata’s hips thrust forwards to meet it. That entire, thick, glorious length battered its way into Adagio’s throat every time, punching her pharynx open wide to make room. As each beautiful assault on Adagio’s mouth was followed by a retreat just as fast to be ready for the next strike, the energy of the backward movements sent thick ropes of Adagio’s drool flying, spattering all over Sonata’s legs, groin and stomach.

Within a minute, Adagio could feel the mess all over her own face, too, all around her mouth, her cheeks, practically running down her chin in rivulets, leaving a wanton sheen on her chest below, especially where it dripped down between her tits invitingly. When did I last…? Ok, maybe she needed to have Sonata fuck her tits sometime soon. Why have the mammary equivalent of a supercar if you didn’t take it out for a drive from time to time?

So overwhelming was the constant pounding in her throat, wedging her jaw open as wide as it would go, that it was only when an ecstatic warmth bloomed through her chest, radiating outward from her breasts, that she realised she’d raised her hands to them to pinch her stiff nipples. She might have frowned at the thought that she couldn’t trust her limbs to stay on task unattended, from where she’d set them meekly on her knees – might have done if her facial muscles weren’t slack from being abused into submission.

But at least she’d gone for rubbing her nipples rather than her clit. If she started on her pussy, she’d be there all day.

And her tits really did need it, so slathered that even the hardest pinch felt slimy and slippery and fucking wonderful. She moaned loudly, neither able to stop herself or caring to, loving how the pitch shot up each time Sonata rammed inside. She heard herself, sounding like the most shameless of whores, and wondered if the fellater might be even happier about her situation than the fellated.

Well, it had been her idea, even if she were the one giving rather than receiving.

...Terms which didn’t quite feel right in that instance, now she thought of it. Sonata might be the one getting sexual stimulation out of it – ok, direct sexual stimulation, because Adagio half-thought she herself might cum from the endeavour without being touched downstairs once – but Adagio very much felt she was on the receiving end of the encounter, with the way the back of her throat was receiving such a bludgeoning.

And she’d be the one receiving the load at the end of it, too. Even if one talked of ‘performing’ oral sex, Sonata was doing all the work there. Adagio was just a willing mouth to sit there and be fucked, then emptied into. Could she even say she’d earned it, when Sonata’s climax came? That Adagio had toiled arduously to bring forth the cum she’d have squirted down her throat?

She hoped not. A grimace might have marred her features for a split second before it was fucked away. Sirens did not work. They existed, and others paid tribute to them. In this case, she was existing open-mouthed in a place Sonata was humping the air with reckless abandon, and the tribute she’d receive would be hot and potent, leaving a trail down the walls of her oesophagus as she claimed it.

Maybe? That was one way to look at it. Another was that she’d have earned every drop of spunk Sonata pumped into her as a reward for being such an obedient little fuckslut, that it’d be warm, soothing cream to tend her poor, ravaged throat and make it all better.

On balance, Adagio couldn’t deny that interpretation was hot, and made her clench her supple yellow thighs together a little tighter, but the first view of events was definitely the one she favoured, and could live with.

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck went the cock stuffing her mouth, each time with a wet slapping sound of Sonata’s abdomen colliding with Adagio’s nose and lips as that massive package hammered home.

Had it been thoughts of debasement, like thinking of herself as nothing more than a dirty cumdumpster for Sonata to fill, driving Aria today? She’d always been a bit whiny if she didn’t get fucked when she said she needed it, but this morning had gone quite a lot further, with her sucking off Sonata in secret to hide her shame. Maybe she just had a really good dream? Either way, Adagio would keep an eye out to see if the trend continued.

Her throat probably should have been numb by that point from the repeated cock-powered blunt force trauma Sonata was dishing out as instructed, but it certainly wasn’t. Each new impact stretched her wide. Both in length and girth, Sonata was never any less than too big. Which made her the perfect size, because Adagio’s throat hurt like Hell, and a primal part of her which she probably didn’t listen to often enough never wanted that to end.

Pleasure rolled up from her chest, where she pinched, rubbed, fondled and caressed her hard-as-iron nipples, sometimes going as far as to dig in with her long fingernails to raise a sensation which could compete with those coming from higher up her body. Pain flooded down from there, long past mere aching or discomfort, along with a bone-deep satisfaction she’d never managed to replicate by other methods.

They all mixed together in a way that would eventually leave her howling, far beyond her breaking point. Or would have done, if her body remained her own. But experience, most recently on the table with her shoes, on top of all the other times before, told her that, while the physical pain would remain and in fact grow the longer it went on, it would also decrease in relevancy.

The longer Sonata used her for, the more she’d become just a throat for fucking, and the pain would be that of someone else, someone with thoughts and feelings, dreams and desires, someone entirely separate from a throat that only knew completeness when full to bursting of the cock it belonged to.

That was probably the reason she didn’t let Sonata hump her face more often, actually. Being an orifice to be fucked was a lot of fun. But few things on Earth were more fun than being Adagio. You didn’t take vacations when you already lived in paradise.

Sonata’s movements were becoming erratic. A thrust misaimed to one side, a speed increase from ‘as fast as possible’ to ‘too fast,’ a stumble that would have broken the rhythm if Adagio hadn’t managed to correct it. Even when she was having her face brutally assaulted by a cock in the throes of berserker rage, Adagio remained really very good at blowjobs.

And if Sonata was losing it to that extent, her orgasm was likely to be very violent indeed. Another moan – a delighted whimper, if Adagio was recklessly honest with herself – burbled out of her, crooning for the cum she knew would imminently try to drown her.

Above her, Sonata kept mostly quiet, each slam of her length into Adagio bringing a low grunt. Adagio kept her eyes closed, even as Sonata approached the cusp, letting her other senses deliver the experience to her. Mostly saliva and precum were all she could taste and smell, overriding the sweat and musk which must have lain underneath. And her ears were filled with the wet schlick of a cock tunneling into her, vibrations carrying through her skull as well as the air around them.

She’d have blocked those senses out too, if she could, to float through purely on the physical feelings. The sudden pressure of the hands on the back of her head, making their previous movements pistoning her head up and down seem gentle. The stab of pain through an already-aching jaw forced open too wide for a last time, the stinging of her nose impacting on tensed stomach muscles where before had been soft flesh. And of course the impossible stretching of her abused throat, full to bursting.

There was no other feeling like it: an anguish she longed for, needed, felt rewarded by. Sonata’s cock was driven in as deep as it could go, forming an airtight plug several inches long that nothing was escaping. Never mind Adagio’s instruction for Sonata not to let her up until she’d swallowed every last drop, Sonata wouldn’t let her breathe until she did.

As soon as Sonata hilted in her mouth, girth straining her throat to its very limit, Adagio felt through her lips the swelling at its base. That expansion, which would have made her eyes bulge if they’d been open, rocketed up the length and exploded from the tip. Cum, hot and sticky and just fucking perfect, flooded into her with the force of a bursting dam, the empty few inches of throat between cock and stomach filling instantly.

Oh fucking hell yes.

Adagio’s options were to swallow it into her stomach or literally drown, the spike of fear at the sudden danger doubling her excitement. She swallowed frantically again and again, wincing each time as the muscles tried to contract and found they were wedged uncompromisingly open. Warmth gushed into her stomach, each splash accompanied by a throbbing between her legs.

And Sonata showed no sign of slowing, pumping her overdue load into Adagio, her spasming cock finally having its proper say after at least one interrupted blowjob that morning. Every inch of it screamed that Adagio had brought it on herself, and deserved the ordeal it was causing her. One of Sonata’s hands left Adagio’s head – though the other pressed harder to make up for it – and slithered over to the front of her neck, fingers rubbing her throat from the outside, in downward motions that coaxed and commanded her to swallow more.

She felt full. Not just in her mouth and throat, and how that took over her mind and body and became her entire existence, but also now in her stomach. Stuffed full, like she’d eaten a whole meal. The onslaught of overpowering, choking, precious, life-affirming cum was slowing, now only spurting out when Sonata clenched, giving Adagio a little more time to find space for it inside her.

But running out of oxygen made her swallows even more panicked, desperate to deal with the last few drops so Sonata would free her and let her have air again.

Despite having run dry, Sonata still held her there and caressed her throat for a few moments that seemed to stretch on and on, caring motions at odds with the cock suffocating the life out of her.

Finally, Sonata whispered “Good girl,” down at her, and with terrible slowness began to drag her cock free, as if Adagio didn’t have specks encroaching on her vision from holding her breath. Even pulling it out hurt, with how tightly it was squeezed in, and how swallowing had contracted everything. But every sore inch cleared was a step closer to fresh air, and couldn’t come soon enough.

The second she was able, Adagio sucked in as much air as she could, gulping it down around the cock still drawing out over her tongue, its coolness stinging her raw throat. Deep breaths continued as it dragged free of her lips, dropping from them to dangle limp but solid between Sonata’s legs, just as Adagio’s head was released.

She sagged, putting a hand on Sonata’s leg to stop herself falling sideways. If Sonata had facefucked her that hard on the table a few months ago, she’d never have made it to orgasm two, let alone five.

“Are you ok, Dagi?” came a concerned gasp from above, which could not have been further removed from the voice that had called her a good girl, despite coming from the same mouth. Sonata was bending over in a second, slipping arms underneath Adagio’s and helping her haltingly to her wobbly feet. “Did I go too far?”

Adagio took the invited shoulder to lean on, trying to get her panting under control. She gave a husk of a snort, the best she could manage at the time. “Much further than I thought you would.”

Even without looking, she knew Sonata’s eyebrows would be furrowing, so she staved it off with a hand on Sonata’s chest – hardly noticing it was a succulent, soft blue breast she touched – and added, “It was exactly what I needed.”

Maybe Adagio could just stand there and rest her face between Sonata’s tits for a few minutes while getting her breath back; there were few happier places to be, all that breast was right there, and she definitely needed a moment to recharge.

“And what about what I needed?!” came a furious voice from the far end of the room.

The image of a dreamy recovery in Sonata’s cleavage reluctantly blew away.

“You go have a shower, Sonata,” Adagio said, straightening up, patting Sonata’s bare ass and pushing her towards the staircase. “I’ll deal with this one.”