The Quiet Ladies Man Ch. 04

The house was a squat, cream-colored craftsman with a sagging porch swing and a dead ficus in the corner. Somewhere inside, bass thumped through the walls, muffled and low. I stood on that porch for exactly forty-three seconds, hand raised, listening to the voices inside--laughter, the clink of glasses, a woman shouting something in Spanish. Then the door swung open, and Lola was there, backlit by warm light and wearing a denim jacket over a black slip dress that stopped high on her thighs.

"Hey, quiet boy." She looked me up and down, slow and unashamed like she was taking me in. "You actually came. You actually clean up nice."

"Was I supposed to--"

Before I could finish, she grabbed my wrist and yanked me inside. The living room smelled like candied rum, lime juice, and the unmistakable green bite of marijuana. A haze of smoke drifted near the ceiling, curling around the paper lanterns. Furniture had been pushed against the walls to make space for a low table crowded with bottles, cups, a deck of cards, and a wheel of brie slowly weeping onto a cracked plate.

Four people were scattered around the room. Two guys I vaguely recognized from campus--one was mixed race, tall and red-haired. The other one was built like a wrestler-- the two women who looked like they'd come straight from a fashion editorial. The redhead was mid-sentence, hands waving, words slurring just slightly from tipsiness. Everyone stopped when they saw me.

"Everyone, this is Darius." Lola kept a grip on his forearm, her fingers warm and tight. "He's the one I told you about."

"The librarian?" The redhaired guy squinted. "He don't look like one..."

"That's the point, Ephraim." Lola shot him a look. "Don't be an asshole."

"Is that his real name?" My intrusive thoughts said, but I let them go.

He raised a hand in an awkward half-wave. "Hey."

Meanwhile, Valerie emerged from the kitchen, holding two bottles of red wine by their necks. Her amber hair was loose, cascading over bare shoulders, and she'd changed into a rust-colored silk camisole tucked into black jeans that hugged her long legs and thick thighs. A small gold hoop glittered at her navel. She looked like trouble, the beautiful kind that made a man forget his own name.

"Look who showed up." She crossed to me. She pressed one of the bottles into my chest. "You're on wine duty. Open that."

I opened it. The cork came free with a soft *thunk*, and Lola clapped. They poured me a glass--then another--and within twenty minutes, I found myself on the floor between the two sisters, with my back against the couch and a deck of cards fanned in my hand. The game was something called... I don't remember... But Valerie tried to explain in three or four different ways. Every time, Lola laughed and corrected her. It didn't matter. Every time I lost (which was all the time), they made me drink. The one time I won, Lola whispered something to Valerie that I couldn't make out.

The room eventually grew warmer. The conversation splintered and stitched back together. Ephraim and the wrestler got into a heated debate about a kickboxer no one else knew. The other women left early, trailing clouds of perfume and jokes about brunch. Eventually, it was just the three of them and the afternoon slipping into night.

"Truth or drink," Lola announced, dropping the cards. She was on her knees now, facing him, the denim jacket sliding off one shoulder to reveal a thin black strap. "You in, quiet boy?"

"I don't know what that is."

"It's like truth or dare, but if you don't answer, you drink." Valerie stretched out on the couch behind me with her feet dangling near my shoulder. She smelled like vanilla and clove cigarettes. "Simple."

"Fine." Darius set his glass down. "Truth."

Lola leaned forward. "What's the last sexual thought you had about one of us?"

The question hit me like a right hook. I immediately felt the heat rush to my face, to his chest, to somewhere lower. Valerie tilted her head, watching. Lola's dark eyes gleamed.

"I--" I reached for my glass to save myself.

"Uh-uh." Lola grabbed my wrist. "You picked truth."

I was now trapped. Their faces were close, the light making their skin glow. Lola's strong, thick thighs were smooth and muscular where the dress rode up. Valerie's hair spread over the cushion like spilt honey. The smell of the room had shifted--perfume, red wine, the damp sweet scent of Lola's body.

I could lie. I really COULD take a drink. But something in me, maybe the wine, maybe the thing that I was DESPERATELY trying to become--said *tell it*.

"Just now," I said, voice rough. "When you leaned over. I thought about what your mouth would feel like on my neck."

The silence was thick enough to choke on. Then Lola smiled that million dollar smile. It formed, slow and feral. She reached out and undid the top button of her slip dress. "Good answer."

Valerie sat up, sliding off the couch to kneel beside her sister. The two of them were a matched set, different heights but same impossible bone structure. Their combined focus made his pulse roar.

"Now truth," Valerie said, voice low. "Do you want the door locked?"

I swallowed. "Yeah."

Lola rose and sauntered to the front door, and turned the deadbolt with a loud and damning *click*. The bass had died down; the only sound was the ceiling fan whirring above and the blood pounding in his ears.

"Come here," Valerie said softly, and it wasn't an invitation--it was a summons.

I went to her.

She kissed me first. Valerie tasted like red wine and heat. Her lips were soft, plush, and deliberate, and she kissed like she was mapping his mouth. Lola pressed against my slim back with her hands sliding up under my shirt, nails scratching oh so lightly. Her breasts were on the smaller side but soft, her body a wall of warmth.

"You're so damn tense," Lola whispered against my neck. "We need to fix that."

The sisters undressed me together. Buttons undone, zipper down, his jeans shoved to his ankles. Then their own clothes fell. Valerie's camisole pooled on the floor like spilled rust. Lola's dress slid from her body, leaving her in black lace panties and a hungry look. Their bodies had their parallels. Both had curves that could kill a man. Valerie had an athletic build with perky breasts, a toned ass, and a fighter's grace; While Lola was shorter and had more prominent curves. They were compact and curvy, with breasts that were bigger when she moved and thighs like carved mahogany.

"Lie down," Valerie said.

I did, on the rug with my back against the rough fibers. I was already hard, curving up against my belly, thick and veined. But I was still self-conscious--

"My stomach, my thighs, my skinny legs, can they see--" I thought, but then Lola crawled over and kissed my navel, and the thoughts scattered.

"Mmm. You're bigger than I thought," she murmured, wrapping a hand around my hard shaft. "This is gonna be fun."

Valerie came down beside them, her hand joining Lola's, the two of them stroking him in tandem. His hips jerked. A sound came out. It was broken and raw. Self consciously, he bit his lip to silence it.

"Don't," Valerie said. "We want to hear you."

"Don't be ashamed. We like vocal men." Lola said.

She lowered her head and took my volcanic manhood into her mouth. The heat was unreal. Her tongue swirled over the head, then flattened along the underside, and Lola's hand kept working the base, squeezing lightly. My head fell back with my fingers digging into the rug. The ceiling spun. The fan blades clicked.

"Shit, shit, shit--"

Lola kissed me, swallowing my own moans. Her breasts pressed against his side, nipples hard. Her mouth was hot and hungry, and all he could taste was her. Valerie's head bobbed, slow and deliberate, her lips stretched around his girth. She moaned around him, a vibration that travelled straight to his balls.

*Mmm, mmm, mmm..." Valerie sounded, hollowing her cheeks.

"Switch," Lola said, pulling back. She then straddled my face without warning, her soaked panties still on. The smell of her filled his senses--sharp and sweet, sea-salt and something darker. "Take my panties off."

He hooked his fingers into the lace and dragged them down her thighs. Then she was pressing her soaked treasure to his mouth, and he was lost in her. He licked and lapped up the seam, then deeper, finding her clit and circling it with the flat of his tongue. Lola groaned above him, grinding down. "Yeah, that's it--fuck, yes..."

Valerie had pulled my cock from her mouth and was licking the side of my shaft like savoring the last drops of ice cream, tongue tracing veins, while her hand rolled my balls softly. I was trembling now, abs clenching, toes curling. The pleasure was too much, everywhere, and the sounds they made--wet, desperate, obscene--filled the room.

"I'm gonna--"

"Not yet," Valerie said. She sat up, swung a leg over me effortlessly and reached down to line my cock up with her entrance. "I want you inside me when you come."

Lola shifted, still riding my mouth, her strong thighs clamped around his head. "Do it, sis. He's ready."

Valerie sank down. She was tight, slick, and for one impossible second he thought he might pass out. Her walls swallowed him inch by inch, and she let out a long, low moan. "Oh, God, Darius-- fuck!"

Then she started to ride. But she was facing away, reverse cowgirl, her round, ample, beautiful ass bouncing up and down against my hips as she worked herself on my cock. Lola was leaning forward now, her tits swinging, her own hand moving between her legs. The sight was filthy--sisters, one on my face, one on my cock, both moaning my name. It was a sight I could not believe. Not even in my dreams.

"Fuck! Fuck me, Darius!"

"Eat this pussy!"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

"Ah!"

"Oh my god, yes, fuck me, papi!"

The various moans and dirty talk did it. My body seized, back arching, and I came with a shout that was muffled by Lola's pussy. My cock pulsed inside Valerie, hot ropes of my seed shooting deep inside her. She cried out, still grinding on me, milking every drop.

"God, yes--" she gasped, and then she was coming too, her walls clamping down on him as she shook.

Lola wasn't far behind. She was still grinding my face, one hand fisting in my hair, and came with a broken "Ah--ah--fuck--Darius--" Her creamy juices soaked my mouth, chin, and I lapped her through it unashamed and utterly cum-drunk on the taste.

Then it was quiet, except for their breathing. The fan clicked. The smoke had cleared. The rug was a disaster.

Lola slid off him and collapsed beside Val. I laid there, staring at the ceiling, cock spent and chest heaving. My whole body buzzed.

"So," Val said after a long moment, voice hoarse and satisfied. "You still think you're not a ladies' man, Darius?"

I laughed--a real laugh. "Shut up."

Lola propped herself on one elbow, smiling. "Awww. He's blushing. Cute."

"Shut up," I said again, smiling.

Outside, someone's car rumbled down the street, and inside, the three of us lay tangled on the floor, covered in sweat and sex and the fading smell of wine. The story was already writing itself in his head, the kind you didn't tell anyone.

And for the first time in my life, it felt like maybe--just maybe--I deserved to be seen.