KeyWord

Sex is in the air. The tension is palpable, tingling on our skin. Our wigs are securely fastened, we've spent time perfecting our makeup as well as helping with each other's, and we've managed to squeeze ourselves into these skimpy outfits and heels.

We're sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, chatting nervously. We've been waiting for him for a couple of minutes. Not too long, but long enough for our conversation to drift into our horniness and love of dick, as is inevitable for two cocksluts.

The knock on the door is subtle - the anticipation it brings is anything but. We remain seated since it was just a courtesy knock. A click of his hotel key and he lets himself in. Our eyes take him in. He's milk chocolate in complexion, easy on the eyes. His smile is genuine, a little less than friendly but a little more than cordial, and he's a bit shorter than one would think for what he packs in his pants.

He walks over, greets us each with a gentlemanly introduction, a compliment or two, and a hand kiss, and then sits between us, placing his arms around our waists. We're his women for the night, his gurls. There's little else we'd rather be, and he knows it.

We talk for a while. Real, non-sexual conversation. Current events, the weather, etc. He has a deep voice for his size, but he's soft spoken. His word choices tell me he's educated. He laughs easily but maintains an air of self-possession. You and I are pretending to engage in the subject matter, but we keep trading glances across him, acknowledging each other's readiness, hoping he's aware of it too, and just wishing he'd say the keyword - this predetermined but randomly chosen cue to begin our particular regimen of debauchery.

He seems oblivious to this, but as he speaks, I notice his fingertips on my waist are starting to wander, first gliding aimlessly in small circles, and then finding the edges of my almost non-existent skirt and brushing against what's underneath. I imagine he's doing the same to you.

Good, I tell myself. He's horned. Soon he'll say it. I can't help that my breathing shallows and I can hear yours do so too as we grin expectantly at each other, but the mundane conversation continues until he interrupts himself mid-sentence, "...birdbath." That was it!

Immediately we lay back where we sat, lift our legs, and spread them wide.

The mattress creaks a little as he relieves it of his weight to stand and survey us both, on our backs with our heels facing skyward. He sighs contentedly.

At the sound of his belt-buckle and zipper, my asshole begins to throb. I'm staring at the ceiling tile as I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

Please use me first, I beg silently. I hear the snap of the condom on his veiny demon meat and hope that since he's known me longer, he'll quench my desperation before yours. One of your upturned heels is in my ceiling-bound periphery, and my heart sinks a little as, alas, I watch his fingers wrap themselves around your ankle. He wants to play with his new thing first.

Shortly, I hear your moans and then your panicked squeals as he begins to plunder you - mercilessly pumping you full of his wonderful cock, pummeling your core impatiently, as if some demon in him is frantically reaching for your soul just on the other side of it. "Fuck her good, baby," I encourage him while envying you. I look over to watch him enjoying the confused ecstasy on your face as he humps. It satisfies him, for now.

I hear the condom snap off and the crinkle of another wrapper. Holy shit. It's my turn. The pounding in my chest is both offset and amplified by the new rubber's snap on his slab of barbaric persuasion. Suddenly his warm palms are on my ankles.

"Oh yeah, bab-", His massive, gleaming flesh helmet makes a hasty introduction to my asshole and barges in, slithering swiftly towards my center and interrupting whatever dumb shit my bimbo-brain was about to say. Suddenly, with no permission given nor asked, his warm, swollen dickhead is nudging at my intestinal wall, having shifted my organs in its wake. I wince and groan, but thankfully he persists, taking me like he took you, carelessly and selfishly, indifferent to our pleasure - indifference which, ironically, is our pleasure's source. Fuck. FUCK! He talks like a staid academic but ruts like a marauding sea pirate.

As my clitty's leak turns into a full spill, my irises roll backward under intermittently fluttering eyelids, lost in how wonderful it feels to be used so thoroughly.

Suddenly I'm empty of him. The cool hotelroom air rushes into my gaping asshole, forcing me back from the dreamstate he fucked me into.

The crinkle of wrapper, the snap of condom, and he's back to you. His hands on your ankles, he speed-fucks you for a few moments, your moans and yelps punctuating his accelerated rhythm. From the bottom of his throat, he manages the closing, "..,birdbath."

Our arms release our legs and we quickly kneel to suck him together, grateful for how we've been freshly used, until he explodes on our slutty smiling faces.