I glanced at Lily.
"Sit here," I commanded, gesturing to the spot right beside me.
She didn’t hesitate. She dropped down onto the bench, eyes locked on me with a mix of awe and hunger.
I signaled for the other three to settle in front of me, and they folded like cheap paper, dropping to the ground between my legs, watching my every move like submissive dogs.
Ashley was still pinned to my lap, but now she was completely at my mercy. With Lily right beside her, the contrast was brutal.
I leaned back, my hand working in slow, rhythmic circles over Ashley’s lower abdomen, pressing firmly against her womb.
Every time I massaged that spot, her head snapped back, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as a series of wet, high-pitched mews escaped her lips.
She was losing it. She stopped trying to hold back and started grinding her ass against my cock with frantic, desperate force, seeking more friction, more pressure, more fucking.
She was leaking so much that I could feel the wetness soaking through her skirt and my own pants, a literal puddle of her own desire.
The other ladies were watching her with eyes wide, burning with raw, stinging envy.
They could see the way her entire body shivered with electric jolts of pleasure, the way she was so blissfully ruined that she’d forgotten they were even there.
They were staring at her clit-numbed face, watching the way she leaned into my hand, desperate for more, and it was driving them wild.
They weren’t just jealous—they were practically begging for me to pull them into the mix and give them a taste of the same pathetic, soul-crushing pleasure.
I gripped her thighs, forcing them apart until she was straddling my lap, her legs splayed wide on either side of me.
With her back to my chest, she was perfectly positioned, a display for the entire group.
"Lift your skirt, Ash," I commanded, my voice cold and hard. "Show them what you’re wearing."
She didn’t hesitate for a second. A wild, desperate grin plastered across her face, she grabbed the hem of her white pleated skirt and yanked it up toward her waist.
"Ye-yesh, Sir!" she slurred, her voice thick and broken by the sheer intensity of her arousal.
She held the fabric high, exposing her black lace panties to everyone in the circle. The lace was already darkening, soaked through from the juices pouring out of her cunt.
I leaned back, looking out at the other four women who were practically salivating.
"Well, ladies," I teased, my tone dripping with arrogance. "Enjoying the show I’m putting on for you?"
They didn’t look away. Their expressions were full of raw, unfiltered perversion.
They watched with hungry eyes, their faces flushed and shiny with their own building heat.
They were locked onto the sight of Ashley—their friend and sister—practically begging for it in my lap, her black lace panties stretched tight over her trembling, needy pussy.
I shifted my focus to Lily, who was huddled right beside me.
She was a wreck—her face was burning red, and her breathing was coming in ragged, shallow hitches.
Seeing her own sister spread eagle on my lap, being treated like a public toy, had clearly pushed her over the edge.
She caught my gaze, her eyes dilated and swimming with a mix of shame and desperate hunger.
"Can... can I do something for you?" she breathed, her voice trembling with an eager, submissive tremor.
A wicked, jagged smile spread across my face. I didn’t hold back.
"Slide her panties to the side, Lily. And give your sister a taste of her own medicine. Get your fingers in her."
Ashley’s eyes went wide, her breath hitching as she looked from me to her sister with sheer, panting anticipation.
Lily let out one shaky, deep breath to steady herself before reaching out. She hooked her fingers into the side of the black lace, sliding the fabric aside to reveal the slick, perfectly hairless mound beneath.
As soon as Lily’s fingers touched the sensitive, swollen folds, Ashley let out a shattered cry.
The pussy was flooded, a swamp of warm, natural lubricant that made a soft, squelching sound as Lily began to rhythmically stroke her.
Her pussy lips were frantic, snapping shut around Lily’s fingers in a tight, vice-like grip that had Ashley arching her back, her entire body shuddering.
In and out, the motion was fast and relentless.
Ashley was completely undone—drool leaking from the corner of her parted lips, her eyes rolled back into her head as she moaned loud enough to draw stares from anyone else in the park.
I didn’t let her have all the fun. I gripped the back of her neck, pulling her head toward me to crush my lips against hers.
She met the kiss with a ravenous hunger, slurping at my tongue and sucking on my lips as if she were starving.
The other ladies in the circle were witnessing the whole, twisted spectacle—watching the sisterly grooming and the heated, sloppy make-out session.
They weren’t just watching; they were witnessing their own boundaries dissolve.
Their fidgeting had turned into frantic, rhythmic movements against the grass, their eyes fixated on us, their own hands beginning to wander under their own clothes.
The park was no longer a public place; it was our own private, perverted stage.
Lily didn’t falter, her fingers working with a rhythmic, professional intensity while her face twisted into a mask of pure, perverted delight.
She watched her sister with hungry, glazed eyes, seemingly fueled by the sight of Ashley falling apart under her touch.
After a few minutes of our deep, frantic kissing, Ashley’s body locked up. A violent shiver—like an electric shock—rippled through her from head to toe.
She let out a sharp, high-pitched gasp, and then she climaxed, a fountain of hot, slick juices spraying onto the grass and running down her thighs.
I pulled away, breathless, and pointed at the mess.
"Clean her up," I commanded.
The other three women scrambled forward, their faces flushed with a desperate, slutty intensity.
They didn’t hesitate, crawling on all fours to her legs and thighs, lapping up the puddle of her love juices with eager, wet tongues until her skin was stripped clean.
Lily, meanwhile, was still staring at her own fingers, which were coated in her sister’s scent.
She brought them to her nose, sniffing deeply with an intense, haunting gaze locked onto mine.
"Clean them," I ordered. She didn’t break eye contact as she licked her own fingers, cleaning them off with a look of total devotion.
I hauled her forward, slamming my lips onto hers. We shared a wet, deep kiss, exchanging saliva as Ashley slumped against my other shoulder, still whimpering and groaning from her peak.
Watching us, Ashley couldn’t help herself; she reached over, joining in, and suddenly the three of us were locked in a tangled, sloppy mess of tongues and heat.
The sisters worked in tandem, teaming up to assault my face, lips, and neck with hungry slurps and licks, driving me to let out a low, rough groan of my own.
*****
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