The neon sign flickered twice before holding steady, casting a pink glow across the rain-slicked pavement. Inside, the air hummed with bass-heavy music and the low murmur of voices, none of which mattered once I stepped past the beaded curtain.

Two figures knelt in the booth ahead, their silhouettes framed by the pulsing screen behind them. The video played something explicit—bodies moving, sweat glistening, but my eyes locked onto them instead. Their posture was relaxed, knees slightly apart, hands resting on their thighs like they'd been waiting. One tilted her head, her dark hair slipping over her shoulder as she eyed me with a slow, knowing smirk.

The pressure against my zipper tightened as her smirk deepened, her gaze sliding down to the obvious strain in my jeans. Heat prickled up my neck, not embarrassment, but something sharper, more urgent. The second one leaned forward slightly, her own cock twitching against her thigh as she let out a soft, amused breath.

"Looks like someone’s enjoying the show," the first murmured in accented English, her fingers trailing along her own length without hurry. Her nails were painted black, chipped at the edges like she hadn’t bothered to fix them in days. The detail made her feel real, closer than the glow of the screen behind her.

Her fingers curled around my belt buckle before I could react, the metal cool under her touch despite the heat of the room. "Let's be gettin' these down," she murmured, her accent thicker now, rougher around the edges like she'd spent years in dockside bars before ending up here. The leather slid free with a soft rasp, and my jeans sagged instantly, the fabric catching on my hips just enough to keep them from dropping completely.

The second one laughed—a low, throaty sound—as she reached out to flick the button of my fly undone with a single nail. "So eager," she teased, but her voice wasn't mocking. It was warm, almost approving, like she'd been hoping I'd react this way. Her fingers brushed against the damp fabric of my briefs, and I sucked in a breath as she traced the outline of my cock through the cotton. "Big," she observed, glancing at her companion. "You weren't lying."

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of my briefs with deliberate slowness, the fabric stretching taut before yielding. The air, thick with the scent of cheap cologne and sweat, suddenly felt cooler against my skin as she dragged the cotton down inch by inch. My cock sprang free, the weight of it bouncing slightly before settling against my stomach, already slick at the tip. She exhaled softly, not quite a laugh, more like satisfaction, as her thumb brushed the underside, smearing the bead of pre-cum down the shaft.

The second girl leaned in, her breath warm against my hip as she surveyed their handiwork. "Mm. Nice curve," she mused, tapping the head lightly with a fingernail. The touch sent a jolt through me, and I bit back a groan as she traced the vein running along the length. Her companion, still gripping my briefs around my thighs, tilted her head. "Think he can take both of us?" she asked, though the glint in her eyes said she already knew the answer.

The one with the chipped black nails didn’t wait for an answer. Her tongue darted out, pink and pointed, dragging a slow, wet stripe from the base of my cock to the tip. The sensation was electric—hot, deliberate, almost clinical in its precision, like she was cataloging every twitch and shudder I couldn’t suppress. She paused just beneath the head, her breath ghosting over the slickness she’d left behind, and then, with a hum that vibrated through me, she took me into her mouth.

Her lips were softer than I expected, parting easily as she sank down, her tongue flattening against the underside. The pressure was perfect, tight but not punishing, and when her nose brushed my stomach, I realized she’d taken me all the way without hesitation. Her companion whistled low, impressed, and ran a hand through her own hair, pushing it back as she watched. "Greedy," she chided, but she was smiling, her fingers trailing absently along her own cock as she observed.

The second girl’s fingers tightened around the base of her cock as she watched her companion work, her own breath hitching slightly. A drop of pre-cum glistened at her tip, trembling before rolling down the length. She caught it with her thumb, smearing it absently along the shaft before meeting my gaze. "My turn," she murmured, her voice husky with intent.

She didn’t wait for permission. Her hand slid between my legs, fingers skimming the sensitive skin of my inner thigh before cupping my balls with a firm, possessive grip. The sudden pressure drew a groan from me, my hips jerking forward reflexively, only for her companion to tighten her lips around my cock in response, sucking hard enough to make my vision blur. The dual sensation was overwhelming, my body caught between the wet heat of one mouth and the rough, knowing hands of the other.

The one with her lips still stretched tight around my cock hummed in agreement, the vibration sending a shudder through me as her fingers dug into my hips—not pushing me away, but holding me steady. Her companion smirked, her thumb circling the head of my cock where it glistened with spit, and gave it a slow, teasing twist. "Patience," she murmured, though her own breathing was ragged, her cock twitching against her thigh as she watched. "You’re not getting off that easy."

Her fingers slid from my balls to the base of my cock, pressing firmly against the pulse there as if to remind me who was in control. The first girl pulled back with a wet pop, her lips swollen and slick, and licked a slow stripe up the length before glancing at her companion. "He’ll last," she said, voice thick with confidence. Her hand replaced her mouth, stroking me lazily, her thumb catching under the head with every upstroke. "Won’t you?"

"I will," I rasped, the words scraping raw against my throat. The admission hung between us, charged and undeniable. Their laughter curled around me, low and approving, like I'd passed some unspoken test.

The one with chipped black nails, Rin, I'd learn later, arched an eyebrow, her grip tightening just enough to make me suck in a sharp breath. "Who's first?" she echoed, her thumb pressing into the swollen head of my cock, smearing pre-cum in slow circles. The other girl, Ami, snorted, shifting closer on her knees until her thigh brushed mine. "Greedy boy," she murmured, but her fingers were already tracing the outline of my lips, sticky with her own spit.

Ami's smirk deepened as she shifted her weight, her thighs pressing together for a deliberate moment before she turned away from me with a slow, fluid roll of her hips. The curve of her ass was impossible to ignore, high, round, and perfectly framed by the thin fabric of her skirt riding up as she bent forward. The neon glow from the screen behind us caught the sweat-slicked dip of her lower back, tracing the line where her skin disappeared beneath the waistband of her panties.

Her fingers hooked into the fabric, dragging it down just enough to reveal the smooth swell of her cheeks before letting it snap back into place with a teasing flick. "Eyes up here," she murmured over her shoulder, though she knew damn well where I was looking. The way she arched her back pushed her ass out further, the cleft parting slightly as she rocked onto her knees. Between them, her cock hung heavy, but it was the glimpse of pink beneath, the soft give of her pussy, that made my throat go dry.

Rin's hands slid around my hips from behind before I could process the movement, one palm splayed flat against my stomach, the other gripping the base of my cock with a possessiveness that sent a jolt through me. "Easy," she murmured into my ear, her breath hot and uneven, but her fingers were anything but gentle as she angled me forward. Ami arched her back further, her thighs parting with a deliberate slowness that left her glistening and exposed. The first brush of my cockhead against her was electric, soft, yielding heat meeting the slick pressure of Rin's guiding hand.

Ami's breath hitched audibly, her shoulders tensing as she braced herself against the booth's padded bench. "Fuck," she hissed, not a complaint but a demand, her fingers digging into the vinyl beneath her. Rin chuckled darkly behind me, her nails biting into my hip as she pushed me forward in one fluid motion. The resistance melted away instantly, Ami's body opening up with a wet, shuddering gasp, her muscles fluttering around me as I sank in to the hilt.

Rin's grip was unyielding, her fingers pressing into my hips like punctuation marks, dictating the pace with deliberate, rolling thrusts that left no room for hesitation. Every push forward was met with Ami's gasping exhale, her body arching back into me as if chasing the next stroke before it even came. The rhythm wasn't mine; Rin's palms were the conductors, and we were instruments tuned to her hands.

Ami's shoulders trembled, her fingers scrambling for purchase against the vinyl as Rin rocked me deeper, the angle shifting just enough to drag a broken moan from her throat. "There—" she hissed, the word fracturing as Rin adjusted my hips again, tilting me upward until Ami's back bowed sharply, her ass pressing flush against me. The change sent sparks up my spine, the new friction unbearable and perfect all at once. Rin's laugh was a hot puff against my shoulder, her teeth grazing my skin as she murmured, "Feel that? She's clenching around you."

Rin's grip on my hips tightened as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against my neck. I felt the rigid length of her cock press against the cleft of my ass, the heat of her unmistakable even through the thin fabric of her skirt. Her fingers dug into my skin, possessive and unrelenting, as she rocked her hips forward, grinding against me with deliberate slowness. The friction sent a jolt through me, my muscles tensing instinctively—not to pull away, but to press back into her.

"Relax," she murmured, her voice rough against my ear, her teeth grazing the lobe just hard enough to make me shudder. Her free hand slid down my stomach, fingers trailing through the sweat-slicked trail of hair below my navel before curling around my cock again, giving it a slow, firm stroke. The dual sensation of her touch and the pressure against my ass left me gasping, my hips jerking forward into her grip while my body arched back against hers. She laughed, low and throaty, her breath uneven against my skin. "Greedy," she repeated, but there was no malice in it, only hunger.

The pressure was unbearable in the best way, a slow, insistent stretch that burned just enough to make my breath hitch. Rin's cock nudged against me with deliberate patience, the blunt head catching before pushing forward in tiny, torturous increments. My fingers curled into the vinyl beneath me, the material creaking under my grip as I forced myself to relax, to open up for her. She exhaled sharply above me, her hands tightening on my hips as she rocked forward another fraction of an inch.

"Breathe," she murmured, her voice rough with restraint. I did, sucking in air through my teeth as she sank deeper, the stretch blooming into something hotter, fuller. Her cock was thick, the kind of girth that made my thighs tremble as my body adjusted, the resistance melting away into a slick, shuddering surrender. She paused there, buried to the hilt, her hips flush against my ass as she let me feel every inch of her.

The rhythm wasn't mine anymore, if it ever had been. Rin's hips snapped forward with the precision of a metronome, each thrust driving me deeper into Ami's trembling body like a piston. I was just the conduit, the living bridge between them, every movement Rin dictated transmitted through my hips into Ami's clenching heat. Ami's fingers scrabbled against the vinyl bench, her knuckles whitening as she arched back into each stroke, her breath coming in ragged bursts that matched Rin's grunts behind me.

Sweat dripped down my spine where Rin's stomach pressed against my back, her skin slick against mine. Her hands splayed across my hips, fingers digging crescent moons into flesh as she adjusted the angle, just a fraction, and Ami's whole body jerked. "There," Ami gasped, her voice cracking as Rin's next thrust hit whatever sweet spot had her thighs shaking. The neon lights overhead pulsed in time with their rhythm, painting Ami's flushed skin in alternating strokes of pink and violet.

Ami's shuddering body suddenly exploded with her release—no hands, no friction, just the raw, relentless pressure of Rin's rhythm driving me deeper into her. Her back arched violently, her fingers clawing at the vinyl as herwarm rush of wetness spilled between her thighs, slicking my cock in a way that made Rin groan against my shoulder. "Fuck," Ami gasped, her voice breaking mid-syllable, her hips jerking uncontrollably as the waves rolled through her. The clench of her around me was almost painful, a vise grip of pleasure that dragged a ragged moan from my throat.

Rin didn't slow. If anything, her thrusts grew sharper, her cock driving into me with a precision that left no room for recovery. The overstimulation was electric, Ami's twitching muscles amplifying every movement until I could barely think. Rin's breath hitched behind me, her hips stuttering as she buried herself to the hilt, her fingers digging into my skin like she was trying to fuse us together. "Look at her," she growled, her voice rough with arousal. "Look what you did to her."

Rin's fingers dug into my hips hard enough to bruise as she rocked forward one final time, her cock buried to the hilt inside me just as my own release surged into Ami's trembling body. The synchronization was brutal—Ami's slick walls fluttering around me while Rin's thickness stretched me impossibly full, creating a chain reaction of pleasure that crackled through all three of us like live wires.

Ami's moan pitched higher, her spine arching sharply as she took every pulse of my climax, her thighs quivering against mine. I felt Rin's groan vibrate through my back where our bodies were pressed flush, her teeth sinking into my shoulder as she came with a ragged exhale. Heat flooded me, the sensation of being filled while filling another so visceral it short-circuited coherent thought.

The wetness that followed, a slow descent from the cresting peak of sensation, dripped down the underside of my cock in thick, languid strands as Rin pulled me free with a filthy pop. Ami shuddered beneath me, her thighs trembling where they pressed against mine, her breath coming in ragged little hitches that mirrored the aftershocks traveling through my own body. The air smelled of sex and sweat and something faintly metallic, like the neon lights overhead were burning too hot, too close.

Rin's hands lingered on my hips, her thumbs pressing idle circles into the skin there as if marking territory. Her breath was warm against the nape of my neck, uneven but satisfied. "Good boy," she murmured, the words slurring slightly with exhaustion, her accent thicker in the aftermath. She didn't pull away, not yet, her cock still nestled snug between my cheeks, softening but still present in a way that made my stomach flip.

The vinyl couch squeaked under our combined weight as we collapsed onto it, still slick with sweat and other fluids. Ami draped herself half across my lap, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my thigh while Rin stretched her arms along the backrest, her thigh pressed warm against mine. The neon buzz of the booth felt softer now, the air thick with the aftermath of exertion and the faint ozone tang of overworked electronics.

The beaded curtain rattled before any of us could catch our breath. A third figure stepped in, taller, broader, his silhouette momentarily blotting out the pulsing screen behind him. He didn't pause at the threshold like I had; his movements were practiced, deliberate, as he toed off his shoes and knelt on the damp carpet between our sprawled legs.

His hands moved with the precision of a painter restoring a masterpiece, slow, deliberate strokes that mapped every dip and curve of our sweat-slicked bodies. The first swipe of his tongue along Ami's inner thigh made her gasp, her hips jerking involuntarily as his fingers splayed to hold her steady. He didn't rush, didn't treat the aftermath like an afterthought; each lick was a ritual, his tongue catching every glistening streak with a reverence that bordered on devotion.

Rin exhaled sharply when his fingers brushed the base of her cock, still half-hard and twitching against her thigh. He paused there, his breath warm against her skin, before dragging his tongue up the length in one slow, wet stripe. The sound she made was half-groan, half-laugh, her fingers tangling in his hair as he took her fully into his mouth, cleaning her with a suction that left her thighs trembling.

"You're last," he said to me, his voice rough like gravel underfoot, before turning his attention to Ami with the focus of a sculptor examining marble. His hands, broad, calloused, cupped her hips as if he were measuring her for something, thumbs pressing into the divots above her pelvis with a possessiveness that made her shiver. I watched, still catching my breath, as he dragged his tongue up the inside of her thigh, pausing just shy of where she was still glistening.

Ami arched into the touch, her fingers knotting in his hair, black streaked with silver at the temples, as she let out a shaky exhale. "Tease," she accused, but her voice lacked bite, her thighs parting wider in silent invitation. He chuckled against her skin, the vibration traveling up her body until she squirmed. "You're first," he corrected, his accent thicker than Rin's, the vowels rounded like he'd learned English in a harbor town. "But not for long."

His hands were methodical when they finally turned to me, broad palms sliding up my thighs, thumbs pressing into the divots of my hips like he was memorizing the topography of my body. The booth's neon glow caught the silver in his stubble as he leaned in, his breath hot against the sticky mess cooling on my stomach. "Your turn," he murmured, and the words vibrated through me before his tongue did.

The first lick was slow, almost clinical, starting just below my navel where sweat and pre-cum had dried in salty streaks. His tongue was rougher than I expected, dragging over my skin with the precision of someone used to cleaning wounds, not lovers. But then his lips closed over the head of my cock, still swollen and oversensitive, and the sudden heat made my hips jerk off the vinyl. His hands tightened instantly, fingers digging into my thighs to pin me in place as he sucked the last remnants of my release from the slit.

His tongue was relentless—broad strokes that started at the base of my cock and dragged upward with just enough pressure to make my thighs tense. I hissed through my teeth, oversensitive and half-convinced I couldn’t possibly get hard again so soon, but his mouth was insistent. He hummed around me, the vibration traveling straight to my spine, and just like that, the heat pooled low in my stomach again.

Ami laughed softly from beside me, her fingers trailing down my arm as she watched. "Look at that," she murmured, her thumb brushing my pulse point. "Already coming back for more." Her nails dug in lightly, just enough to make me twitch, and the bastard between my knees sucked harder in response, his tongue pressing flat against the underside of my cock.

I could feel it getting so hard, so fast, that the ache bordered on painful. The oversensitivity from minutes ago had melted into something else entirely, a raw, relentless throb that pulsed in time with his tongue. Every flick against the slit sent sparks skittering up my spine, my hips jerking against his grip despite his iron hold. It shouldn’t have been possible, not so soon, but my cock didn’t care, swelling heavier in his mouth with each passing second.

Ami’s nails dragged down my forearm, her laugh curling warm and wicked in my ear. "See?" she murmured, her breath hitching when the man between us hummed around my cock, the vibration ricocheting through me like a live wire. "Told you he’d last." Her fingers slid higher, tracing the tendon in my neck as it strained, her touch feather-light compared to the suction of his mouth.

The pressure built in slow, agonizing waves, not the sharp cresting of before, but something deeper, thicker, like molten lead pooling in my gut. His mouth was relentless, the suction tight enough to pull stars into my peripheral vision, his tongue working the underside of my cock with a precision that bordered on cruel. Every flick against the slit sent a jolt through me, my hips jerking against his grip despite the iron hold of his hands.

I felt it welling up, up, up, a coil tightening impossibly tight in my lower belly, my thighs trembling with the effort to stay still. His throat opened around me as he took me deeper, the wet heat swallowing me whole, and then......

The moment my cockhead nudged the back of his throat, his groan vibrated through me like a struck tuning fork. His Adam's apple dipped—not pulling away, but swallowing reflexively—and that tiny motion shattered what little restraint I had left. My release surged up like a geyser, hot and thick, flooding his mouth in pulsing waves. He didn't choke, didn't sputter; his throat worked around me with practiced ease, swallowing every spurt as his fingers dug bruises into my hips.

I felt it when he couldn't keep up. The first overflow spilled past his lips, dripping in glistening strands down his chin onto my thighs. The salt-tang of my cum mixed with the musk of sweat on his stubble as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against my stomach like a man at prayer. His tongue kept moving, lapping at the overspill with slow, deliberate strokes that dragged whimpers from my throat. Every nerve felt raw, exposed, but he didn't stop, not until my cock twitched violently at an overstimulated touch, my hips jerking away instinctively.

The last drop lingered on his lower lip, glistening under the neon glow like a pearl balanced on the edge of a blade. His tongue darted out—once, twice—catching it with a slow swipe that made my oversensitive nerves twitch. He exhaled through his nose, the sound heavy with something between satisfaction and exhaustion, before pressing a final kiss to the inside of my thigh. The gesture was unexpectedly tender, his stubble scratching lightly against my skin as he lingered there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Then he was moving, his knees cracking faintly as he pushed himself upright. Ami’s hand slid from his shoulder to his wrist as he stood, her fingers tightening briefly, a silent communication that made him pause. He tilted his head toward her, listening to something unspoken, before nodding once. The exchange lasted less than three seconds, but it carried the weight of years, of routines carved deep into muscle memory.

The beaded curtain rattled behind him as he turned, the plastic strands catching briefly on his broad shoulders before yielding with a sound like distant rainfall. His shadow stretched long across the stained carpet for a moment, all squared shoulders and tapered waist, before dissolving into the neon haze of the main room. The scent of cheap cologne and sweat lingered in his wake, clinging to the humid air like a second skin.

Ami's fingers tightened around my wrist as the curtain settled, her nails digging crescents into my pulse point. "He always does that," she murmured, her voice equal parts amusement and something darker, hungrier. "Walks away just when you think you've got him figured out." Her thumb traced the edge of my palm absently, her touch light compared to the bruising grip she'd had moments ago.

The vinyl bench creaked under my weight as I shifted, my muscles protesting like overstretched rubber bands. The neon lights overhead pulsed slower now, their hum settling into a dull throb that matched the rhythm behind my eyelids. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every brush of air against sweat-damp flesh registered like a brand. Ami's fingers trailed down my arm, her touch feather-light compared to the memory of her nails digging in, but I still twitched.

"Time to go," I mumbled, more to myself than to her. My voice came out rough, sandpapered raw. The words tasted like exhaustion, like the metallic aftertaste of too many drinks too fast.