Emily's College Assent Pt. 02

Emily's Extra Credit: Part 2

The basement stacks of the humanities library smelled like old glue and misfiled fantasies.

Emily Morgan moved through them like she owned the oxygen.

She was dressed casually -- jeans that hugged without trying, a loose gray T-shirt tucked in just enough to imply the soft curve of her waist, and her hair pulled into a messy bun she'd perfected in front of the mirror for twelve minutes.

Her target was already waiting.

Julia Bennett, 22. Junior RA. Engaged. Pre-med. A churchgoer who wore purity rings in high school and still said "oh heavens" when she tripped.

And right now, Julia was crouched in the B-section, scanning titles with real, anxious focus.

"You're early," Emily said, stepping into the aisle like a shadow wrapped in confidence.

Julia startled. Turned. Smiled too wide. "I didn't expect you until--"

"You said you needed help cataloging post-Renaissance literature."

Emily tilted her head, voice syrupy. "Here I am. Willing. Able. Very... helpful."

Julia stood, clutching a clipboard like a shield.

"Thanks. It won't take long."

Emily stepped closer. "Oh, I hope not."

Julia froze.

Their eyes locked.

There was nothing platonic in Emily's expression.

It wasn't leering. It wasn't lewd.

It was patient. Knowing. Dangerous.

"You look flushed," Emily said. "Too warm down here?"

"It's--uh--just the lighting. I guess."

Emily leaned past her, reaching for a leather-bound copy of Othello -- her arm grazing Julia's chest just slightly. Deliberately.

"Do you know how often desire is masked as duty in these texts?" she asked softly.

Julia swallowed. "I--I'm engaged."

Emily paused. Smiled.

"I know."

She turned and pressed the book into Julia's hand. Slowly. Let their fingers brush.

"Do you love him?"

Julia hesitated.

"Yes," she whispered. "Of course I do."

Emily leaned in until her breath danced over Julia's ear.

"Then why are you shaking?"

Julia's knees almost buckled.

???? The Breakdown Begins

Emily took the clipboard from her trembling hand and set it aside.

Then she stepped closer -- close enough for their hips to touch, for her voice to drop to a purr.

"You could say no," she murmured. "Right now. I'd smile, leave, and let you marry your safe, straight boy without ever wondering what my mouth feels like."

Julia whimpered.

Emily smiled.

"But if you stay... if you don't stop me... I'll ruin you."

A long, loaded pause.

Julia didn't move.

So Emily kissed her.

Not soft.

Not gentle.

Possessive. Full-mouthed. Skilled.

Julia gasped, and Emily took the chance to slip her tongue inside -- sliding her hands along Julia's waist, then gripping her hip as if she belonged there.

When Julia moaned -- really moaned -- it was like a confessional unraveling.

"Emily... oh my God..."

"Still want to stop me?" Emily asked, now kissing down her jaw, hands slipping under her shirt. Her fingers found warm skin. A fast-beating heart.

Julia's hand gripped her wrist.

But didn't pull away.

Emily dropped to her knees.

???? The Fall

Julia backed against the shelf.

Emily pulled down her leggings -- slow, reverent -- and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"You smell like guilt," Emily whispered. "But you taste like curiosity."

Her tongue flicked out, just barely brushing Julia's folds.

Julia's body jolted.

"Emily, I can't--oh God--I can't--"

"You already are."

Emily licked again. Then deeper. Flattening her tongue, building the pressure -- slow at first, then circular, then sucking.

Julia sobbed.

Emily's hands gripped her thighs to keep her steady.

She alternated flicks with swirls, wet and deliberate -- each stroke an act of reprogramming. Each moan Julia gave up was another inch of resistance burned away.

"I shouldn't--I'm not--"

"Straight?" Emily murmured between strokes. "You're not anything right now. You're just mine."

And Julia broke.

Her knees gave out and she slid down the shelf, still gasping, her hands in Emily's hair, pulling her in.

Emily moaned into her -- a deep, possessive sound -- and pushed two fingers inside.

Julia screamed into her own elbow.

Her orgasm hit like a wave breaking inside her chest -- hips bucking, thighs clenching, mouth babbling nonsense and prayers. Her body convulsed, and Emily held her through it.

When she finally collapsed to the carpet, breathless and ruined, Emily kissed her one more time.

A soft one.

Almost tender.

???? Converted...

Julia lay back, eyes glassy, shirt rucked up, panties lost somewhere in nonfiction.

Emily stood, smoothed her shirt, and grabbed her book.

"Don't worry," she said. "He doesn't need to know."

She walked away.

Danielle waited outside the stairwell, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"You look smug."

"She'll never look at her wedding dress the same way again."

"You're playing with fire, Morgan."

Emily licked her bottom lip.

"Maybe."

A beat.

"But I never said I wanted to put it out."

???? The Professor

Professor Caroline Hale was elegance curated into a defensive shell.

Fresh PhD. Adjunct lecturer. Twenty-eight, with a fearsome intellect and a schedule laminated to the minute. Her office smelled like lavender and old paper, her cardigans were always perfectly pressed, and she graded with the kind of precision reserved for clinical surgery.

She wasn't cold.

She was controlled.

Emily Morgan found that utterly fascinating.

???? The Setup: Innocent Beginnings

Emily arrived precisely on time. Hair in a neat braid, a folder tucked under her arm. Her blouse -- crisp, white, one button too low -- was tucked into high-waisted black slacks. Polished. Subtle. Designed to haunt without being obvious.

Caroline looked up, mildly surprised. "Ms. Morgan. Come in."

Emily stepped into the room and shut the door gently behind her.

"You said to bring a revised draft," she said, offering a half-smile. "I revised... and added."

She placed the annotated paper on the desk. Caroline reached for it. Their fingers brushed.

Just enough.

Caroline pulled away as though touched by static.

"Let's take a look, then," she said quickly, eyes darting down to the pages.

Emily didn't sit.

She circled the desk slowly, her gaze drifting across bookshelves, spines, the soft curve of Caroline's neck where it met the collar of her blouse.

"You quoted correspondence between two Victorian women," Caroline said, trying to anchor herself in scholarship. "And suggested... masturbation?"

"I suggested orgasm," Emily said softly. "I didn't limit the method."

Caroline stiffened.

Emily stepped closer.

"Do you think women didn't crave each other back then, Professor?"

"It's... possible. But highly interpretive."

"Everything worth writing about is."

???? The Slow Burn

Caroline placed the paper down.

Her hands shook slightly.

Emily noticed.

"You seem tense."

"I'm fine."

"You could lie better."

A beat.

Emily stepped to the edge of the desk. Just close enough that Caroline would feel the heat of her body.

"I think about you," she said calmly. "When I read. When I write. Sometimes... when I'm alone."

Caroline froze.

"Ms. Morgan--"

"Emily."

"This is highly inappropriate--"

"It would be," Emily said, "if I didn't see how your eyes follow my mouth in class. Or how you never correct the girls who flirt with you. Only the boys."

Silence.

Caroline looked away. That alone was confirmation.

Emily leaned in -- not touching, just close. Close enough to speak into her hair.

"I want to kiss you. Not to conquer you. To taste what restraint has kept untouched."

Caroline closed her eyes.

And whispered, barely audible:

"Get out."

???? The Interlude: Cracks and Echoes

For three days, Caroline avoided her.

She moved through lectures like a ghost, flinching when Emily raised her hand, breathing faster when she walked by.

She dreamed of her.

Vivid. Heated. Wrong.

She woke up soaked in sweat and guilt, thighs slick, heart hammering.

And then, on Friday, Emily returned to her office.

Uninvited.

???? The Seduction -- Proper

Caroline didn't say anything as Emily entered and locked the door.

She stood. Arms crossed. Defensive.

"Why are you doing this?"

Emily walked slowly across the room. Her tone was gentle. Almost intimate.

"Because you want me to."

Caroline didn't answer.

Emily placed a hand on the desk. Close. But not touching.

"You've never had a girl, have you?"

Caroline's breath hitched.

"You think if you can control your desire, it won't matter. That no one will see what's buried underneath the blouses and syllabi and citations."

Emily stepped around the desk.

"I see it."

She reached out -- fingertips ghosting over Caroline's wrist. Then her forearm. Then, finally, the delicate hollow beneath her throat.

"And I want to make you come undone."

Caroline trembled.

And then -- finally -- she kissed her.

Desperately. Messily. Years of repressed wanting crashing through all at once.

Emily caught her. Held her. Slid hands into her hair and pulled -- just enough to make her gasp.

"Take your blouse off," Emily whispered.

Caroline obeyed.

"Skirt too."

She hesitated.

Emily stepped forward, kissed her neck.

"Let me worship you."

???? The Fall

Caroline sat back on the couch, thighs pressed together, eyes wide, lips bitten red.

Emily knelt between them.

Not as student. Not as predator.

As someone offering conversion by reverence.

Her mouth pressed against the inside of one thigh -- warm, slow kisses up toward heat.

Caroline whimpered.

When Emily's tongue finally touched her -- soft, wet, purposeful -- Caroline gasped so hard she nearly fell backward.

Emily licked again.

And again.

Tongue flat, then pointed. Swirling in rhythm. A tease of suction. Gentle finger strokes along her inner lips. A thumb pressed over her clit just so.

"Don't stop--" Caroline begged. "Please don't--don't--"

Emily slowed.

Pulled away.

"Say it."

"What?"

"Say what you are right now."

Caroline blinked. Eyes glassy.

"Yours."

???? Aftermath

Caroline lay sprawled across the couch, blouse open, skirt half on, her hair mussed, chest rising and falling in silent, stunned waves.

Emily kissed her collarbone and whispered:

"Lesson complete."

Then stood.

Gathered her things.

Turned to the door.

"I'll see you next week, Professor."

She walked out smiling.

Behind her, Caroline lay shaking -- breathless, sore, and desperate for next time.

???? Professor's husband

Emily first saw him on a Saturday morning.

She hadn't planned it.

But when she passed the university café and spotted Professor Hale sitting outside -- glasses on, cardigan soft, smiling like she hadn't begged for orgasm the week before -- she paused.

Because sitting across from her was a man.

Tall. Late thirties. Handsome in the way that screamed stable salary and wedding registries. He had a quiet, firm laugh. Gold band on his ring finger. And when he leaned in to brush a hair from Caroline's cheek, Emily's stomach twisted with something cold and electric.

So that's the husband.

And something else inside her whispered:

I want him to break too.

???? The Setup

Emily waited two days.

Then, "accidentally" bumped into Caroline near the west faculty parking lot. They exchanged a look -- hot, loaded, tense.

Emily grinned.

"I found your draft from last semester online. The one on emotional repression in male narrators. Thought it was fascinating. I'd love to pick your brain... maybe over dinner?"

Caroline hesitated.

"That's--complicated."

Emily leaned in.

"You can bring your husband. I'm very... open."

Caroline stared at her like she couldn't decide whether to slap her or melt.

???? The Dinner: Casual Threats

They met the next Friday.

A quiet upscale restaurant. Caroline dressed in ivory. Her husband, Mark, wore navy. Emily wore black silk.

Low neckline.

No bra.

Mark was polite. Too polite. Emily made him nervous from the start -- and leaned into it.

She laughed easily. Touched his wrist when he passed the wine. Quoted a line from Othello when Caroline talked about tenure applications.

"I do perceive here a divided duty," she said softly. "Between husband and... something new."

Caroline dropped her fork.

Mark blinked.

Emily smiled and crossed her legs.

???? The Husband's Erosion

Emily played the long game.

She texted Caroline occasionally, but made sure to send innocent, charming notes directly to Mark.

"Thanks for the wine tip. I owe you something drinkable in return ????"

"Caroline's so lucky to have someone who understands her."

"I keep thinking about that dinner. I'd love to talk more. Just us."

It wasn't overt.

It was calculated.

When Mark finally suggested coffee -- just coffee -- Emily agreed. And wore something soft, fitted, and deliberately approachable.

She talked about Caroline.

She asked about his work.

She laughed when he said he "wasn't used to attention."

And then she touched his knee.

"You're the kind of man who probably doesn't realize what women want from him until it's already happening."

Mark blushed. Didn't pull away.

Emily turned her head slowly, looked at him -- really looked at him -- like he was a puzzle she'd already solved.

"You've been thinking about it," she said softly. "My mouth. Haven't you?"

Mark inhaled.

Didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Emily reached across the console and touched his thigh. Firm. Slow. High.

He jumped.

"Tell me you want it," she whispered, leaning closer. Her breath grazed his cheek.

"I... I want it," he said, voice cracking.

Emily smiled.

"Good."

Then she unbuckled her seat belt, shifted in the cramped space, and slid between the seats onto her knees -- elegant, practiced, devastating.

She undid his belt with slow fingers.

Unzipped him.

No rush.

No chaos.

This wasn't sex.

This was the ritual of power transfer.

She pulled him free, let her fingertips brush along the length of him.

He was already hard.

"Pathetic," she murmured. "You got hard from a look."

"Emily--"

"Shut up."

She looked up at him, eyes glittering.

"You don't speak. You listen."

She held his gaze as she ran her tongue once -- flat, slow -- from base to tip.

He groaned.

She smiled.

And took him in.

Not deep. Not fast. Not messy.

Controlled.

A tight, wet seal. Her tongue swirling just under the head. Her hand pumping slow at the base. Eyes never leaving his.

He gripped the wheel harder.

"Please--fuck--"

She pulled off with a wet pop, lips slick and eyes dangerous.

Emily began a rhythm.

Not frantic. Not pornographic.

Devastatingly exact.

She bobbed with just enough suction to make his eyes roll back -- never rushing, never breaking eye contact. Her tongue moved in slow, broad swirls underneath as she pumped the base with her fist.

Then she'd pause. Flatten her tongue. Let him feel the stillness. His body twitched from the absence of movement -- like being edged with silence.

She moaned softly around him.

The vibration made his hands seize against the wheel.

"Please--fuck, I can't--"

She pulled off again. Licked her lips. Used her fingers to rub the spit-slick head in slow, teasing circles.

"I bet she's never done this for you," Emily said softly. "Not like this. Not like it's the only thing in the world that matters."

Then she went all the way down -- taking him until her nose brushed his pelvis.

He shouted, hands flying to his thighs, gripping tight like he was holding on to reality.

Emily held him there -- throat tight, lips sealed -- then swallowed once.

That was it.

Mark shattered.

His thighs trembled violently, his whole body tightening as he choked back a cry.

But Emily pulled off just before he tipped over the edge.

She wrapped her hand around him and squeezed the base hard.

"No."

"Please--oh fuck, please--"

She pulled off, gripped him at the base, and gently tapped the tip of his cock against her tongue.

"You're already about to come, aren't you?" she purred. "From just that?"

He didn't answer.

Couldn't.

Emily smirked and took him deeper.

Halfway. Then a little more.

Then she pulled back, exhaled hot air against his now soaked tip, and whispered:

"Let me show you what control feels like."

Completely. Fucking. Destroyed.

He collapsed back in the seat.

Sweat on his neck.

Chest heaving.

Cock pulsing and untouched.

???? The Lesson

The room was still thick with sweat and musk, the scent of sex clinging to the sheets like velvet fog.

Caroline lay on her side, body slick and spent, thighs trembling from the aftershocks of straddling her own husband under Emily's instructions.

Mark lay back, chest heaving, dazed. He looked like a man returned from war and reborn in fire.

Emily sat upright in the center of the bed -- calm, untouched, glowing.

Her skin shimmered with effortlessness.

Not a drop of sweat. Not a flicker of fatigue.

Predator. Goddess. Maker of the undone.

???? The Request

Caroline turned her head slowly, still catching her breath.

"He told me," she said quietly, voice hoarse, "about how you used your mouth on him. In the car."

Emily tilted her head, amused.

"Did he now?"

"Said you made him feel like nothing had ever mattered. That it was... impossible."

Emily smirked. "He's not wrong."

Caroline's voice dropped. Lower. Wanting.

"Will you show me?"

Emily leaned back on her elbows.

"What, exactly?"

Caroline swallowed.

"Everything."

???? Mark's Final Ruin

Emily turned to Mark, who was barely upright against the pillows.

"Can you give me one more?" she asked.

He nodded slowly. Obedient.

Caroline sat up beside them, legs folded under her, watching with wide, dark eyes.

Emily climbed down the bed, slow and sultry, and pulled Mark's still-sensitive cock into her palm.

"Watch closely," she told Caroline. "It's not about what you do. It's what you don't."

She began with slow, open kisses along the shaft -- not rushing, just worshipping.

Every kiss had intent. Every lick was followed by a pause.

"Let the tension build," she said, licking the underside slowly. "His brain wants friction. His body wants rhythm. Give him neither."

Mark twitched, moaned.

Emily smiled.

Then -- without warning -- she took him in, deep and smooth, to the base.

Caroline gasped aloud.

Her tongue moved in a figure-eight, never repeating a stroke.

One hand massaged his balls. The other gripped his hip.

She moaned around him -- a low, hungry sound -- and the vibration made Mark's toes curl.

"Oh fuck--Emily--fuck, I can't--"

She didn't let up.

Suction tightened. Motion increased. Her lips glistened, her jaw worked in perfect, merciless cadence.

He cried out, hands fisting the sheets.

Caroline could only stare, spellbound.

And when Emily sucked the head with slow, strong pulses and swallowed around him again with absolutely no hands involved and staring deeply into his eyes --

Mark screamed and came, body convulsing, eyes rolling back, passing out mid-moan.

He collapsed, completely drained, one arm limp at his side.

Emily wiped her mouth.

Caroline said:

"You did not even move your head but made him cum!"

Looked at Caroline.

"Yes. Pressure, rhythm, technique and suction -- they all pop!"

"That," she said, "is how you ruin a man."

???? Caroline's Hunger Unleashed

Caroline didn't speak.

She launched forward.

Her mouth crashed into Emily's, kissing her deeply, tasting her own husband's release on Emily's tongue.

There was no shame. No hesitation.

Just hunger.

She pushed Emily back onto the bed, straddling her thigh, pressing her sex against Emily's leg, already dripping.

Emily grinned.

"You want to rub that sweet cunt against mine, don't you?"

Caroline nodded furiously, flushed and breathless.

Emily guided her down.

They aligned.

Slick folds met slick folds.

And when their hips began to move -- slowly, grinding, tribbing with unfiltered need -- both women moaned into each other's mouths.

The heat built instantly.

Their clits brushed and slid.

Friction. Wetness. Pure, shameless grinding.

Caroline lost all control -- rolling her hips faster, slapping against Emily's heat, crying out every time their bodies met.

"God--Emily--fuck--yes--"

Emily held her thighs tight, grinding back.

Their foreheads pressed.

Their gasps melted into one.

Caroline came hard, shuddering, shaking against her -- and Emily didn't stop until they were both trembling.

Falling.

Spent.

???? Close

The bed was a battlefield of wreckage.

Mark lay unconscious.

Caroline collapsed against Emily's chest, body damp, hands clutching her as if the act had stolen her bones.

Emily stroked her hair, lips brushing her temple.

"Now," she whispered, "you belong to me."

And Caroline -- once a professor, once a wife, once composed -- only nodded.

Eyes closed.

Mouth parted.

Completely, beautifully ruined.

???? Danielle's Shift

Danielle hadn't planned to stay long.

She thought she'd walk in, toss Emily her charger, and leave with a sarcastic one-liner about the smell of sin in the room.

But she didn't leave.

She stood.

Watching.

Emily was stretched out on the bed like a nude oil painting -- all gleaming skin and heavy-lidded calm.

Mark sat nearby, shirtless, still wrecked from earlier.

But it was Professor Hale that Danielle couldn't stop looking at.

Caroline, once prim and silent, was now spread between Emily's thighs, licking her with reverence, moaning as if the pleasure weren't even hers.

Danielle was still. Silent. Then slowly lowered herself into the chair near the edge of the bed.

And watched.

???? The Breaking Point

Emily's eyes found hers.

"Stay."

Danielle nodded.

She crossed her legs, clenching the heat between her thighs.

Emily moaned again -- a slow, drawn-out sound that made Danielle's nails dig into her own palm.

Professor Hale licked with precision, her fingers teasing softly as her tongue worked in smooth, practiced spirals. Emily came hard -- back arching, lips parted in a gasp.

Then Emily gently pushed Caroline away and gestured toward Danielle.

"She's ready."

Danielle's breath caught.

"Wait--what?"

Caroline rose from between Emily's legs. Her face wet, her lips swollen, her eyes glowing with something dangerous.

She crossed the room.

Kneeled before Danielle.

Danielle didn't move. Couldn't.

Caroline didn't ask.

She kissed Danielle's knee.

Then her thigh.

Then higher.

Each kiss deliberate, slow -- lips, tongue, breath, want.

Danielle's legs parted.

Not from command.

But from desire.

Caroline licked once -- long, slow, deep.

Danielle let out a cry she hadn't known she was holding in.

She gripped the back of the chair, her body bucking slightly as Caroline's tongue worked her open.

There was no teasing.

No performative edge.

Only worship.

Tongue pressing, swirling, flattening -- two fingers sliding in, curling just right.

Danielle came with a shout -- wild, sudden, and completely hers.

She blinked down at Caroline, dazed.

"Holy. Fuck."

Emily smiled.

"You look ready."

???? The Shift

Danielle sat there -- legs open, breath uneven -- eyes now drifting to Mark.

He wasn't threatening.

He wasn't posturing.

He was watching her the way prey watches lightning.

And she... wanted.

Not him.

But the idea of doing something forbidden.

Emily approached.

Kneeling beside her.

"You want to taste him."

Danielle nodded slowly.

"I want you to show me how."

Emily's smile curled.

"Get on your knees."

???? Danielle breaks

Emily guided her forward until they knelt before Mark.

His cock was already half-hard from watching.

Danielle reached out, tentative, but not afraid.

Emily wrapped her hand over hers.

"Hold him here. Soft fingers. Like you're promising something."

Danielle followed.

Emily leaned in first -- licking once, slowly -- then turned and whispered:

"Now kiss him."

Danielle obeyed.

She kissed the tip.

Then licked it.

Emily's hand stayed on her shoulder.

"Let your tongue swirl. Then seal your lips and take him in. Just the head."

Danielle moaned softly as she did it.

Mark gasped.

Emily's hand moved to her hair.

"Good girl. Now a little deeper."

Danielle took more.

Sucked gently.

Emily watched with pride as Danielle began to find rhythm -- hand stroking, lips moving, tongue circling under the head.

Mark groaned loudly, his legs shaking.

Danielle pulled off, breathless.

"That was..."

Emily kissed her.

"Powerful. You were incredible."

Danielle laughed softly, still trembling.

"I get it now."

???? Danielle experiences 1st oral

Later, the four of them lay tangled.

Danielle's head on Emily's chest.

Caroline curled behind her.

Mark slept -- drained, worshipped.

Danielle whispered:

"I didn't know I could want like that."

Emily kissed her hair.

"You haven't even started."

Danielle's rhythm grew bolder.

Lips tighter.

Suction stronger.

She was discovering her own control -- watching the way Mark's body buckled under her tongue, hearing the sharp gasps escape his throat.

Emily crouched behind her, hand firm on her lower back.

"He's close," she whispered into Danielle's ear. "Don't stop."

Danielle moaned, the vibration making Mark cry out.

His hands gripped the sheets.

His thighs tensed.

"Danielle--I'm--fuck--I'm gonna--"

She didn't pull away.

Because she didn't want to.

And in the next moment--

He came.

Hot. Sudden. Salty.

Danielle froze, mouth full, unsure what to do.

Eyes wide.

Throat tight.

Then--

Caroline was there.

Her hand on Danielle's cheek.

Her mouth gently brushing hers.

"Let me show you," she whispered.

And then she kissed her.

Not on the lips.

But open-mouthed.

Tasting her husband from Danielle's mouth.

Tongues pressed.

Fluids shared.

It was filthy.

And beautiful.

Danielle moaned into the kiss -- not just from the taste, but from the act of being part of something raw and real and utterly shared.

When they finally broke apart, Caroline's fingers stroked her jaw.

"See?" she whispered. "It's not something to fear."

Danielle exhaled shakily.

"It's... different."

Emily leaned in from behind, kissing the other side of her neck.

"And now it's yours."

???? The Epic Threesome

Title: "No One's Watching Now"

Mark was out cold.

Sprawled across the sheets like an empty vessel, lips parted, skin damp. The slow, peaceful rise of his chest was the only sign he'd survived what Emily had done to him.

But the three women?

They were just getting started.

Emily sat back on her heels, watching Mark sleep, a wicked grin stretching across her face like sin.

She turned her head slowly to Caroline and Danielle -- both flushed, tangled at the foot of the bed, breasts rising with shallow, hungry breath.

"Now," she murmured, licking her bottom lip. "We don't have to behave."Danielle Takes Control

Danielle, still high from tasting Mark's orgasm and feeling Caroline's tongue between her legs, reached up and cupped Emily's face.

Her voice trembled. Not from fear.

From need.

"I want you," she whispered. "Both of you. I don't care how. I want everything."

Emily's smirk deepened.

"Then take it."

Danielle didn't wait.

She surged up and kissed Emily hard -- their mouths colliding, tongues tangling, lips slick and open. Their bodies met chest to chest, nipples brushing, hands clawing.

Caroline crawled behind them, wrapping her arms around Danielle's waist. She kissed up her spine, nuzzling the back of her neck.

Then whispered:

"Let's destroy her together."

They pushed Emily down.

Onto her back.

Emily laughed breathlessly -- then gasped as both women descended.

Danielle between her thighs.

Caroline at her chest.

Danielle licked slowly at first -- long, deliberate passes through Emily's folds, tongue flat and greedy.

Caroline sucked Emily's nipple into her mouth, moaning softly as her fingers traced lazy circles on the other.

Emily writhed beneath them.

"Oh my god--yes--fuck--"

Danielle picked up speed -- her tongue curling into Emily's entrance, then dragging upward to circle her clit in slick, eager swirls.

She sucked gently, then hard -- alternating, teasing, worshiping.

Caroline nipped at her breast.

Danielle flicked her tongue rapidly -- the tip teasing the hood, then pushing past it with just enough pressure to make Emily cry out.

Emily's thighs trembled.

Her hips bucked.

She grabbed the sheets and twisted, eyes clenched shut.

"Don't stop--fuck--don't stop--"

Danielle moaned into her -- the vibration sending shock waves through Emily's spine.

And when Caroline bit her shoulder, and Danielle curled her tongue just right--

Emily came.

Hard.

Her whole body jolting.

Voice breaking in a half-scream, half-moan that filled the room.

Before she could recover, Danielle kissed up her body -- lips wet, tongue hot -- and whispered:

"My turn."

Emily flipped her -- fast, rough, dominant.

Danielle landed on her back, legs already parted, arms wide open.

Emily dove between her thighs without a word.

And devoured her.

No teasing this time.

No easing in.

Her tongue plunged into Danielle like it belonged there -- licking up her slick, then circling her clit in tight, relentless rotations.

Caroline climbed above Danielle's chest, offering her a breast.

Danielle latched on with a desperate moan, sucking hard as her hips rocked against Emily's mouth.

Emily gripped her thighs tight and went harder -- tongue flat, then pointed, licking side to side, then up and down -- keeping her on the edge, teasing her, refusing to let her fall.

"Please--Emily--fuck--I'm gonna--"

Emily sucked her clit hard and flicked it rapidly with the tip of her tongue.

Danielle screamed.

Her orgasm tore through her like a rip in fabric -- legs locking, fingers in Emily's hair, hips grinding into her face like nothing else mattered.

She came again, and again, until she was crying from the intensity.

Emily slid up Danielle's trembling body and kissed her -- sharing her taste.

Caroline watched -- lips parted, hand already between her own legs.

Emily turned to her.

"Lie down."

Caroline obeyed.

Emily kissed her belly.

Her thighs.

Then buried her face between her legs.

Caroline let out a sound so raw it silenced the room -- a guttural, broken moan of a woman being utterly consumed.

Emily licked her with purpose -- slow at first, then faster, tighter, focused entirely on her clit.

She pushed two fingers deep inside.

Caroline bucked off the bed.

"Yes--yes--please don't stop--"

Danielle knelt behind her, kissing her throat, holding her hands.

Emily's mouth never left her.

She licked with precision and obsession -- curling her fingers just right, pressing into that perfect spot, while her tongue moved in fast, punishing circles.

Caroline sobbed.

Then shattered.

Her orgasm was violent -- her body spamming, thighs clamping around Emily's head, hands gripping Danielle's tight.

She came long and hard, collapsing like a wave crashing through flesh.

She suddenly grabbed Danielle with surprising strength and flipped her, facing downwards lying sideways to Caroline and went to town burring her face between her legs and using her legs pulled Danielle's face towards Emily's pussy. Danielle quickly understood and grabbed Emily and started eating her out.

From above Carolina was lying on her back, twisted sideways eating out Danielle who in turn was eating out Emily and Emily was munching between Carolina's legs.

There were Earth shattering moans but suppressed because each of their face was buried in the other's pussy. The bed started to shake, the headboard hit the wall repeatedly and very soon each of them were curling inside, body goes rigid and with a wail which shook the whole hotel their heads flipped backwards and all 3 started to cum. Its a sight worth a million words.

????Danielle becomes a woman

This is when Mark woke up and in front of him saw a juicy and ripe ass which he immediately grabbed, got up and with his 9" rod went and rammed it inside.

Danielle was a virgin. The scream was so loud, Carolina and Emily jumped up while still cumming from the orgasm, Danielle's body was still shaking from hers but there's now this foreign object buried deep into her vagina.

"Oh my God! STOP. I AM A VIRGIN"

The whole world went silent. Emily went rigid with shock, Mark so rapidly pulled out that he fell backwards on to the floor and Carolina's teacher instinct kicked in and she rushed and grabbed Danielle pulling her and hugging her and toppling over on the bed.

Emily shakily pointed with her fingers between Danielle's legs. There was blood dropping and turning around saw Mark's cock covered in Danielle's blood.

Mark rushed to the bathroom and Emily started sponging out the blood with whatever is on hand which Carolina kept whispering

"Its okay. We're sorry. Its okay, we're sorry"

After 30 minutes, coyly Danielle looked at Mark and said

"Well you already popped my cherry so can you ......? "

Eveyone was astounded. Emily grabbed Danielle and asked if she's sure and when she nodded back, made her lie down and slowly started caressing her, fingering her, eating her again and very soon Danielle was shouting

"Mark, dammit -- fuck me, fuck me, fuck me"

By this time Carolina was expertly sucking her husband's cock making it ready and quickly opened a condom and put it on her husband's cock and guided it right into Danielle's pussy. Emily was in the meantime kept fingering Danielle and Carolina quickly dived between Danielle's tits and started licking, sucking, mild biting them.

Mark's auto response kicked in and very soon all one could hear are the screams of Danielle's

"Oh my God! Deeper ... deeper ... fuck me.. please"

From 1 orgasm to another Danielle went due to the expert ministrations of both Emily's and Carolina's fingers and the jack hammer fuck Mark was giving her. Her eyes rolled upwards, legs splayed obscenely, mouth open, drool coming out and she lost consciously precisely few seconds later with a huge growl, Mark started cumming. Emily immediately whipped the rubber off, took Mark's cock into her mouth and sucked desperately making sure not a drop got wasted.

Mark, Emily, Carolina just flopped all around Danielle and sleep overtook all of them.

Scene Close: Afterglow

They lay tangled.

Emily in the center.

Danielle curled at her chest.

Caroline spooned behind them, still twitching with little aftershocks.

Mark snored peacefully at the edge of the bed, untouched, unneeded.

Danielle laughed softly.

"I think I died."

Emily kissed her forehead.

"You'll resurrect."

Caroline whispered:

"Can we stay like this?"

Emily smiled.

Eyes closed.

"We already are."

????The Girl Next Door

Title: "Walls Are Too Thin"

It started the night after the threesome.

Emily and Danielle, still basking in their shared afterglow, had collapsed into bed around midnight -- warm, tangled, and lazily kissing between giggles.

Then they heard it.

Through the wall.

Low at first -- a groan.

Then a gasp.

Then a loud, shuddering moan.

Danielle froze.

Emily blinked.

They sat up at the same time.

"What the hell--"

Another cry. Louder. Then rhythm -- bed creaking, headboard thumping against drywall. A man's voice. Her voice.

Hers.

It was unmistakable -- sultry, breathy, devastating.

Emily and Danielle listened, stunned, as the noises escalated.

The girl was screaming now. Not performative. Not fake.

Raw. Animal. Fucking addictive.

Danielle's hand drifted under the sheets.

Emily's fingers followed.

Neither of them spoke.

They didn't have to.

???? The Next Morning

She appeared in the hallway wearing only a towel and damp, tousled hair.

Casey.

New transfer. Residing in the room directly next to theirs. A body like sin in motion. Tattoos along her ribs, nose ring glinting under dorm lighting, and an ass that made even straight girls look twice.

She caught Emily's eye.

Smirked.

"You heard."

Emily blinked. "Heard what?"

Casey licked her lips slowly.

"That I sleep loud."

Then walked away, hips swinging like a dare.

Danielle stared after her.

"She's evil."

Emily nodded.

"And I want to know what her mouth tastes like."

The Match

Title: "To Woo or Not to Woo"

Casey wasn't just sexy.

She was chaos.

Every night: a new man. A new moan. A new percussive event that sent Danielle slamming her pillow over her head and Emily clenching the sheets like they were prayer beads.

Casey didn't apologize.

She waved in the hallway. Blew kisses. One morning, she winked and said:

"Sorry if you heard me... but not sorry for the education."

Danielle began sleepily rating the performances from their room.

"Last night? Eight. Had a strong rhythm. Lost points for not switching tempo."

Emily?

She plotted.

???? Attempt #1: "The Coffee Ambush"

Emily caught Casey in the common kitchen.

Tight crop top. No bra. Sweats hanging low on her hips.

Emily leaned against the counter, hip out, lashes lowered.

"You're up early."

"I never sleep long. Post-orgasmic muscle tension. You know how it is."

Emily smirked. "Actually, I'd love to. Show me sometime."

Casey sipped her coffee.

"A tempting offer. But I'm currently booked... by several inches."

Emily blinked.

"You're quoting Shakespeare or porn?"

"Darling," Casey said, turning on her heel, "porn is modern Shakespeare. Just with better lighting and less iambic pentameter."

???? Attempt #2: "Laundry Room Lure"

Emily "accidentally" arrived during Casey's usual wash hour.

She wore a thin tank top. No panties. A smirk.

Casey caught her bending over to retrieve a sock.

Didn't blink.

"Do you always air your intentions in the spin cycle?"

Emily rose. "Would you rather I fold them neatly in metaphor?"

"Oh, please. You don't do subtle. You do... aggressive sonnets with tongue."

Emily stepped closer. "Would you let me lick your stanza?"

Casey stared her down.

"Only if you survive the prologue."

???? Attempt #3: "The Balcony"

Late night. Cool air. Emily saw Casey smoking a clove cigarette, wrapped in nothing but a silk robe and sin.

Emily walked out, silent.

Casey exhaled smoke like a prayer.

"Come to see the moon, or me?"

"You block the moon," Emily said, voice low. "But you're brighter."

"Flatterer," Casey said. "Do you kiss all your prey with that poetic mouth?"

"Only the ones worth biting."

"Then bite yourself, darling. You've been circling for days."

Emily's jaw twitched.

"You're impossible."

"I'm practiced."

???? Frustration Mounts

Emily returned to her room, flushed and furious.

Danielle looked up from her book.

"So?"

Emily flopped face-first into her bed.

"She called my clit 'a soliloquy waiting for a climax.' Then sent me back with tea and a copy of Twelfth Night."

Danielle snorted.

"Oh god. She's immune to you."

Emily rolled over, eyes burning.

"No. She's not immune."

"Then what?"

Emily grinned, wicked and wild.

"She's just better at the game."

????Two Against One

Emily had never admitted defeat.

Not when a professor cried under her.

Not when Mark begged on his knees.

Not when three women came at once and she still had breath to smirk.

But Casey?

Casey was a ghost with a god complex. All lips and legs and riddles. A siren in ripped jeans and Shakespearean retorts.

So Emily changed the game.

"Danielle," she said one night, throwing down a copy of Much Ado About Nothing. "I need backup."

Danielle looked up from her drink.

"You want me to help you seduce Satan's honors student?"

"I want you to help me take her down."

Danielle grinned.

"Finally."

???? Attempt #1: "The Double Tease"

Casey returned to her room late -- leather skirt, flushed face, no panties.

Emily and Danielle waited in the hallway.

Coordinated. Tight tank tops. Lip gloss. Legs for days.

"Evening," Emily purred. "Busy?"

"Was," Casey said. "His name was Kevin. Or Kelvin. Or something worth moaning."

Danielle stepped in, tilting her head.

"Ever think about switching teams? Just to say you did?"

Casey leaned against the door frame.

"I've had more women between my thighs than either of you have fingers."

Emily raised a brow.

"Then why not let us prove we're worth all ten?"

Casey chuckled.

"Because you come at me like I'm a hill to be conquered. Girls... I'm the sea. You drown in me. Or not at all."

Door slammed.

Danielle blinked.

"I hate her."

Emily groaned.

"I want her more."

???? Attempt #2: "The Room Service Trick"

They left a gift.

Box of gourmet strawberries, a bottle of wine, and a note:

"For the queen of nightly thunder. Ever considered a duet?"

That night?

They heard her again.

Only this time, louder.

With two men.

Danielle stared at the wall, slack-jawed.

"She doubled down."

Emily stared at the ceiling.

"She accepted the duet. Just not from us."

???? Attempt #3: "The Literary Trap"

Emily invited Casey to an open-mic night.

Read a poem called "Ode to the Girl Who Makes Walls Thinner."

Danielle followed it with a piece titled: "Let Me Be Your Intermission."

Casey clapped. Smiled.

Then took the mic.

"Roses are red,

Violets are moaning,

This campus is loud,

And your thirst is showing."

The room howled.

Danielle slumped in her chair.

"I give up."

Emily stared, wild-eyed.

"I need help."

???? Calling the Master

That night, they sat in Emily's room, defeated and horny.

Danielle opened a bottle of wine. Emily stared at the ceiling like it had answers.

Then Emily reached for her phone.

"Who are you texting?"

"Zoe."

Danielle dropped the corkscrew.

"You're calling in Zoe?"

"She's the only one who's never been rejected. If anyone can crack Casey..."

"It's the girl who cracked half the Queer Alliance club before finals."

Emily hit send.

One minute later, Zoe replied:

"Tell her the storm's coming. I never lose."

Emily grinned.

"Now we watch her play."

???? The Thunder Before the Storm

Zoe entered the dorm hallway like a hurricane in fishnets -- confident, swaying, her coat catching wind that didn't exist. Emily and Danielle flanked her like apprentice witches.

"You sure you want to do this?" Danielle whispered.

"Casey's ice," Emily added. "She eats seduction for breakfast and burps out poetry."

Zoe just smiled.

"Girls... I've made nuns renounce vows mid-thrust. I've turned debate captains into drooling messes."

She knocked.

Three times.

The door opened.

Casey stood in a robe, sipping from a wine glass. Her eyes swept over Zoe once.

Then paused.

A smile bloomed.

Slow. Dark. Familiar.

"Well," she purred. "If it isn't my little apprentice."

Zoe's smirk wavered.

Casey stepped forward.

"Still tying your tongue into others, or have you finally learned to use it for silence?"

Zoe blinked.

Then--

She howled.

Laughter echoed down the hallway as Zoe stepped back, nearly doubled over.

"Oh my God--girls--no. Nope. You're done. We're done."

Emily's jaw dropped.

Danielle just blinked.

"What the fuck is happening?"

Zoe turned, still laughing, wiping tears from her eyes.

"You tried to seduce Casey?"

Emily scowled. "You're supposed to be helping us!"

Zoe shook her head, grinning.

"I'm not helping anyone seduce their sensei."

"... Sensei?"

Zoe turned back to Casey.

"They thought I was the thunder."

Casey took a sip.

"Because they haven't heard lightning scream."

The Sensei Reveals Herself

Title: "Tongue, Thunder, and the Fall of Two Queens"

The lounge was quiet now.

Casey and Zoe sat cross-legged on the floor, legs touching, two titans at rest after decades of storm.

They were laughing -- not seductively, but like idiots. Stories poured like wine: Zoe's first strap-on disaster ("I strapped it upside down!"), Casey's stint in a monastery ("For spiritual clarity. Lasted three hours.").

Emily and Danielle watched in stunned silence.

Zoe had once been their apex predator -- now she looked like a giddy intern at a sex cult reunion.

"You really trained her?" Emily finally asked.

"Not trained," Casey corrected. "Awakened."

Zoe nodded, dreamy-eyed.

"She found me. Changed me. And then dared me to improve her methods. I wouldn't exist without her."

Danielle sipped wine.

"So you're, like, lesbian Yoda?"

Casey smirked. "Yoda never made anyone come with a single breath."

???? The Fall of Emily and Danielle

The night settled.

Candles flickered.

Emily leaned forward.

Her voice was soft.

"Teach us."

Danielle nodded beside her.

"We thought we were unstoppable. But you..."

They both slid to their knees.

Heads bowed.

"Sensei."

Casey stood slowly.

Tall. Barefoot. Radiant.

"Girls," she said, walking toward them, "most learn technique. Rhythm. Breath. Toys. Angles."

She paused.

"I learned control."

She stuck out her tongue.

It touched her forehead.

Danielle audibly gasped.

Casey raised one brow -- then, without warning, began to vibrate it.

Not shake.

Vibrate. Rapid. Controlled. Precise.

Emily whimpered.

Danielle stared like she'd seen a unicorn in fishnets.

"That... that's real?"

Zoe grinned from the couch. "I used to think she was a government experiment."

???? The No-Touch Climax

Casey stepped forward.

Emily and Danielle still knelt. Breath caught. Eyes wide.

"You want to see why I'm called the storm?"

They nodded.

"Then don't move."

She circled them.

Voice low. Smooth.

"Close your eyes."

They obeyed.

Casey's voice dropped into velvet.

"Imagine my breath against your ear. My tongue tracing your spine. Not yet touching. Just promising."

Danielle moaned softly.

"Now imagine I part your thighs. Slowly. Just a finger. Not inside. Just hovering."

Emily's hands trembled.

"You want it," Casey whispered. "You ache for it. And I'm not giving it."

She exhaled -- not near them, but hard enough for sound to simulate breath.

Danielle whimpered.

Emily's hips jerked forward.

"Now imagine... my tongue."

She vibrated it in front of them -- not touching.

The sound. The image. The dominance.

"You're already clenching. I haven't done a thing."

Danielle gasped.

Emily was shaking.

Then--

They came.

Together.

Breath caught. Moans choked. Hips jolting.

No touch. No kiss. Just voice, presence, and myth made flesh.

???? Scene Close: Legend Confirmed

Emily collapsed against Danielle.

Both of them slick. Shaking. Humbled.

Casey simply turned.

Picked up her wine.

"Control," she said, sipping. "Never requires contact."

Zoe applauded slowly.

"And that, my girls, is why I backed off."

Danielle blinked up, ruined and stunned.

"We... never stood a chance."

Emily nodded.

"But god, what a way to lose."

The Ex-Girlfriend Deliveries

Title: "Sappho's Lost Daughters"

It started one Friday night.

A soft knock.

An unfamiliar face.

And a text from Casey:

Her name's Alyssa. Be nice. He cheated with me. She deserves something better.