Jayden stood there for a long moment after the kiss—cheeks burning, lips still tingling, detective jacket suddenly feeling too tight across her shoulders. She glanced sideways at Gabriela and Samantha, both watching with warm, knowing smiles that made her want to sink through the floor.
Gabriela's grin was pure mischief. She leaned her head on my shoulder, massive tits pressing softly against my arm.
"Detective Jayden..." she teased in that sultry, melodic voice, "I thought you were already part of our little family. But it looks like I missed something delicious."
Jayden's blush deepened to a near-crimson. She ducked her head, fingers flexing around the edge of her leather jacket like she wanted to hide inside it.
"I... I just..." she stammered, voice quieter than I'd ever heard it. "He asked me... a while back... about being his... You know. I didn't say yes right away. I was scared. I have Patricia... my husband... the job... everything. But I haven't stopped thinking about it. About him."
Samantha—still tucked against my other side—reached out shyly and touched Jayden's wrist.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I was scared too... at first. But Jack... he's good. He keeps us safe. He loves us. Really loves us."
Jayden's eyes flicked up—meeting Samantha's gentle gaze, then Gabriela's encouraging one, then finally mine. Something in her expression softened, like a wall she'd been holding up for years finally cracked.
I stepped closer again—slowly this time—wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her against my chest. She stiffened for half a second, then melted into the hug, forehead dropping to my shoulder.
"I promise you won't regret it," I murmured against her hair. "I'll take care of you... and Patricia. Both of you. No more worrying alone. No more carrying everything on your shoulders. You'll have me. You'll have all of us."
Jayden nodded against me—small, shaky, but certain.
"Okay..." she breathed. "Okay."
Gabriela chuckled softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from Jayden's face.
"Come with us to America," I said, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. "Bring Patricia. Let us take care of her. Let us be the family she deserves... and the one you deserve."
Jayden swallowed hard. "I... I want that. I want it so much."
"And about your husband..." I added quietly.
Jayden's jaw tightened—just for a second—then she exhaled.
"I'm thinking of divorcing him," she said, voice steadier now. "I've been thinking about it for months. He's... he's not a bad man."
I nodded—no judgment, no pressure.
"Okay. Do as you wish. If you need help—legal, financial, anything—call me. Or contact my lawyer team. Julie brought them with her; they're already on standby. They'll prepare a divorce settlement case that'll leave him with nothing he doesn't deserve."
Jayden gave a small, grateful laugh—almost disbelieving.
"You really mean that, don't you?"
"Every word."
I leaned in—slowly this time—and kissed her gently on the lips. Soft. Reassuring. A promise.
Jayden kissed back—hesitant at first, then deeper, her hands clutching the front of my shirt like she was afraid I'd vanish. When we parted, she was breathing hard, eyes glassy.
She glanced sideways at Gabriela and Samantha—both smiling warmly, no jealousy, only welcome.
Jayden ducked her head again—shy, almost girlish.
"I'll... I'll go talk to Patricia," she mumbled, stepping back but not letting go of my shirt completely. "She's with my sister right now. I need to... explain things. Slowly."
I nodded. "Take your time. We're not leaving for a few hours. And when you're ready... We'll be waiting."
Jayden gave one last lingering look—eyes shining—then turned and practically ran out of the room, leather jacket flapping behind her like a cape.
The door clicked shut.
Gabriela let out a soft laugh and snuggled closer to my side.
"She's adorable when she's flustered," she teased. "Our tough detective... blushing like a schoolgirl."
Samantha giggled quietly, hiding her face against my shoulder.
"She's going to be so happy with us... I can feel it."
I wrapped my arms around both Gabriela and Samantha, pulling them tight against my chest. Gabriela's soft curves molded perfectly to my side, her head resting on my shoulder with a contented sigh, while Samantha nestled closer, her smaller frame trembling slightly with lingering emotion and happiness.
"Yeah," I murmured softly into Gabriela's hair, voice low and reassuring. "She will. Jayden's tough... but she's ours now. All of us."
Gabriela kissed the side of my neck gently. "She'll fit right in. Just like Samantha did." She glanced at the younger woman with a warm, protective smile. "Right, little sister?"
Samantha blushed deeper but nodded, fingers clutching my shirt. "Yes... I'm so happy... I still can't believe it..."
I gave them both one last squeeze, then reluctantly loosened my hold.
"Alright... time to play the part again," I said quietly. "Yuko might come to meet me anytime now. She needs to believe I'm hurt."
Gabriela immediately understood. She stepped back, reaching for the fresh roll of bandages Julie had left on the side table earlier.
"Lie down, mi amor," she said, voice soft but playful. "Let your 'concerned aunt' fix you up one more time."
I lay back on the bed, kicking off the loose pants for a moment so I could adjust them properly beneath the gown—leaving my chest bare except for the bandages. Gabriela knelt beside me, her massive tits swaying heavily as she leaned over.
She unwound the old gauze with careful fingers, then began wrapping new strips tightly across my heart area—professional, precise, but with a teasing slowness that made my skin tingle.
"Poor baby," she cooed under her breath, just for me. "All bandaged up like a wounded hero... while we both know you could lift this entire hospital bed with one hand. Such a good actor..."
I smirked up at her. "Keep talking like that and the bandages won't be the only thing getting tight."
She giggled—soft, wicked—then pressed a quick kiss to the center of the fresh dressing.
"There. Perfect. Yuko won't suspect a thing."
Samantha hovered nearby, eyes wide and adoring, still clutching the edge of her new skirt like she needed something to ground herself.
"You're... really good at pretending," she whispered. "It's... kind of hot."
Gabriela winked at her. "Wait until you see him pretend to be helpless while we ride him later. He's very convincing."
Before Samantha could combust from embarrassment, the door opened again.
Julie entered first—calm, collected, but with that unmistakable post-sex glow still clinging to her skin. Lorena followed, eyes bright and curious.
Sarah strode in next—confident, smirking, already in on the game. Marina brought up the rear—tablet in hand, ever the organizer. And finally, Yuko—hovering near the back, discharge papers clutched in her hands, expression a careful mix of relief and lingering guilt.
Sarah reached me first. She leaned down, gave me an exaggerated wink, and whispered just loud enough for the others to hear:
"Looking awfully alive for a dying man, Jack. Should I start crying again for the drama?"
I smirked. Julie had clearly filled her in—Sarah knew the injuries were fake. Her playful energy cut through the room like a spark.
Julie's eyes flicked immediately to Samantha—standing quietly near the bed, still flushed, new clothes pristine, but her lips still faintly swollen from earlier.
"And who's this?" Julie asked, voice light but probing.
Gabriela answered smoothly—stepping forward with a warm, innocent smile.
"She's Samantha. Hotel staff. I asked her to help Jack wash up and change his clothes while we were all... losing our minds earlier. She's been very sweet."
Yuko looked over—blinked once—then gave Samantha a small, grateful nod.
"Thank you..." she said softly, voice sincere. "For taking care of him."
She didn't think much of it. To Yuko, Samantha was just another kind stranger—hotel staff doing her job. No threat. No suspicion. Just another person who'd helped while she drowned in guilt.
But Julie, Lorena, Sarah, and Marina?
They knew.
Their eyes locked on Samantha—sharp, assessing, amused. They saw the blush that wouldn't fade, the way her gaze kept darting to me with shy adoration, the faint tremble in her fingers, the way she stood just a little too close to the bed.
Julie's lips curved into a slow, wicked smile.
Lorena bit her lip to hide a grin.
Sarah outright smirked—crossing her arms and leaning against the wall like she was watching the best show in town.
Marina—ever the professional—simply raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow and made a tiny note on her tablet.
Yuko—oblivious—moved closer to the bed, gently touching the fresh bandages over my chest.
"You're really okay?" she whispered. "
I nodded—reaching up to squeeze her hand.
"Yeah. I'm good. Thanks for handling it, Yuko."
She smiled—small, relieved—but her eyes still carried that heavy guilt.
Yuko hesitated—then perched on the very edge of the mattress, still keeping a careful distance from the others, as if she didn't quite belong in their circle. Her hands twisted in her lap, eyes fixed on the fresh bandages over my chest like they were the only safe thing to look at.
Julie stepped forward smoothly, laying a maternal hand on Yuko's shoulder—gentle, but firm enough to make the younger woman tense.
"Yuko, I apologise to you..." Julie said softly, voice low and sincere. "For before. I was angry... scared... because Jack got hurt. I know you've been taking care of him—staying up all night, watching over him, worrying yourself sick. You don't need to beat yourself up anymore."
Yuko shook her head quickly—almost violently—hair falling across her face like a curtain.
"No... " You don't need to apologise," she whispered, voice cracking. "It's my fault. I'm the one who hurt Jack. I... I lost control. I thought... I thought the worst things. I don't deserve your kindness."
Julie sighed—soft, almost fond—and squeezed Yuko's shoulder.
"Okay... okay. Jack's the only one who can really handle you." She glanced at me with a small, knowing smile. "Let me tell you, though—she hasn't slept all night. She's been pacing, waiting for morning, desperate to come here and see you. Worried sick, you'd hate her."
Yuko's face flared crimson. She ducked her head, refusing to meet my eyes, but I could see the way her fingers clenched tighter in her lap.
I reached out—slowly, gently—and took her hand.
"Thank you, Sister Yuko," I said quietly, voice warm and steady. "But don't worry. I'm totally fine now. Even my injuries are healing quickly... see? No pain. No scars that matter. So don't blame yourself anymore. Please."
Yuko's eyes finally lifted—shiny, uncertain, hopeful. She squeezed my hand back—small, trembling.
"Really...?" she whispered. "You're... you're not angry?"
I shook my head.
"Not even a little."
She exhaled shakily—relief washing over her features like sunlight breaking through clouds.
I was chatting quietly with Yuko—her voice still soft and tentative, fingers nervously smoothing the edge of the blanket—when she suddenly glanced over at Samantha, who was standing near the foot of the bed, still glowing from earlier.
"Lady Samantha," Yuko said gently, "can you ask the hotel staff to prepare some soup for Jack? Something warm... he needs to eat properly."
Samantha blinked—surprised at being addressed so politely—then nodded quickly, a shy smile touching her lips.
"Of course... right away."
She slipped out of the room, skirt swishing softly, leaving a faint trace of her perfume behind.
Yuko watched her go for a second, then stood up without a word. She moved to the small couch near the window, picked up an apple from the fruit basket someone had left, and began peeling it with careful, practiced motions—knife gliding smoothly, red skin curling away in one long spiral. It was a small, domestic act, but her hands trembled slightly, betraying how much guilt still weighed on her.
Sarah took the opportunity.
She sauntered over to my bedside—casual, hips swaying—and positioned herself so her back was to Yuko on the couch. From Yuko's angle, she could only see Sarah's silhouette blocking most of me.
Sarah leaned down slowly—elbows resting on the mattress edge, face inches from mine—her smirk sharp and filthy.
"How was that little Samantha's pussy, hmm?" she whispered, breath hot against my ear. "I saw her limping when she walked out. Guess you fucked her hard, didn't you? Stretched that tight maid cunt until she couldn't walk straight... bet she's still dripping you right now."
I matched her smirk—tilting my head so our lips nearly brushed.
"What, don't tell me you're jealous?" I whispered back, voice low enough that only she could hear.
Sarah didn't even pretend to deny it.
"Yeah," she breathed, eyes darkening. "I'm fucking jealous. Watched her limp away like she'd been ruined... and here I am, still waiting for my turn to get wrecked by that cock."
I chuckled under my breath—quiet, dark.
"You're coming with us to America, Sarah. Plenty of time on the plane... in the house... wherever. You'll get your turn. Multiple turns."
Sarah's breath hitched. She licked her lips—slow, deliberate.
"Don't worry," she murmured. "I already packed my stuff. Brought it to Marina's place. We're all leaving together... and I'm not letting you out of my sight once we're airborne."
I nodded—just a small tilt of my chin.
"Good girl."
Sarah straightened up—still smirking—then casually stepped aside so Yuko could see me again.
A few minutes later, the door opened.
Samantha returned—carrying a small tray with a steaming bowl of soup, a spoon, and a napkin. She looked flushed from hurrying, but her eyes lit up when they landed on me.
Yuko immediately stood, took the tray from her with a quiet "Thank you," and moved back to the bed. She sat carefully on the edge—close to me now, but still mindful of the others—and blew gently on the first spoonful, cooling it with soft puffs of breath.
Her cheeks pinked as she felt all the eyes in the room on her—Julie, Lorena, Sarah, Marina, Gabriela, Samantha—all watching with varying degrees of amusement and warmth.
"Quickly heal yourself..." Yuko murmured, voice barely above a whisper as she brought the spoon to my lips. "Otherwise... Haruna might not forgive me..."
I took the bite—warm, savory—then looked around at the circle of women.
"Aunt Julie..." I said clearly, addressing the room. "Please don't let Haruna know anything about this. It won't be good for her to know about Yuko... and this was just a misunderstanding. I don't want her dragged into guilt or drama."
Julie nodded immediately—serious, maternal.
"I know, sweetheart. We don't want to harm the relationship between sisters. So Yuko..." She turned to the younger woman, voice gentle but firm. "Don't worry. We're not telling Haruna a thing. And you should never mention it again, either. Let it stay here—between us. Okay?"
Yuko's eyes filled—slight tears brimming—but she nodded quickly, swallowing hard.
"Hmmmm..." she managed, voice thick. "Okay... thank you..."
She fed me another spoonful—hands steadier now—while the others watched in comfortable silence.
Sarah leaned against the wall again, smirking at me over Yuko's head.
Good boy, she mouthed silently. Playing the saint while we all know you're the devil.
Gabriela reached over and squeezed my ankle affectionately under the blanket—her fingers lingering, warm and teasing, tracing small circles that sent a lazy spark up my leg.
She kept her expression perfectly innocent for Yuko's sake, but the sly little curl of her lips told me she knew exactly what she was doing.
Sarah, meanwhile, had grown bolder.
She stood casually behind Yuko—positioning herself so the younger woman couldn't see her front—then reached up and popped the top two buttons of her shirt open with slow, deliberate movements.
The fabric parted like a curtain, revealing a deep, mouthwatering valley of cleavage—her full, heavy breasts pushed together by the motion, creamy skin glowing under the hospital lights, the black lace of her bra peeking out just enough to frame the soft mounds.
She pressed her arms together slightly—deepening the cleavage even more—until the inner curves nearly spilled over, nipples faintly visible as hard little points straining against the lace.
Yuko—still sitting on the edge of the bed, focused on feeding me soup—didn't notice a thing. Her back was to Sarah, her attention entirely on the spoon she was blowing cool before bringing it to my lips.
Sarah caught my eye over Yuko's shoulder.
Her smirk was pure sin.
She mouthed silently: Like what you see?
I swallowed the spoonful of soup Yuko offered—warm, savory—but my throat suddenly felt tight for a different reason. My cock—already half-hard from the earlier teasing—gave a sharp throb beneath the blanket, thickening against my thigh, the head pushing insistently against the fabric of my pants. I shifted slightly, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only made it worse.
Yuko tilted her head, noticing my slight flinch.
"Is it too hot?" she asked softly, concern creasing her brow. "I can blow on it more..."
I forced a small, reassuring smile.
"No... It's perfect. Thank you, Yuko."
She smiled back—small, shy—and prepared the next spoonful.
Behind her, Sarah bit her lower lip to stifle a laugh. She arched her back just a fraction—making her tits thrust forward even more dramatically—then slowly dragged one finger down the center of her cleavage, tracing the deep line between her breasts.
She hooked the edge of her bra cup with her fingertip and tugged it down just enough to flash one dusky nipple—hard, dark, begging—before letting the fabric snap back into place.
My cock jerked hard—precum leaking against my pants now, a small wet spot forming under the blanket.
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning.
Sarah's eyes sparkled with wicked delight. She mouthed again—silent, taunting:
Jealous yet? Wait till the plane... I'm sitting next to you.
Gabriela—still holding my ankle—noticed the tension in my body. Her fingers slid higher under the blanket—slowly, secretly—until they brushed the thickening length of my cock through the pants. She gave it one slow, firm stroke—thumb circling the head through the fabric—then squeezed gently.
Gabriela pulled her hand back just in time—sliding it smoothly out from under the blanket before Yuko could turn her head and notice the subtle movement.
She gave me a quick, conspiratorial wink, then sat up straighter, folding her hands innocently in her lap like she hadn't just been stroking me under the covers.
Samantha, meanwhile, stood frozen near the foot of the bed—still flushed from everything earlier, fingers twisting the hem of her new skirt. Her eyes kept darting between me, Yuko, and the other women, like she wasn't sure where to look or how to stand without drawing attention.
Julie noticed.
She glided over to Samantha with that slow, predatory grace she always had—casual, maternal on the surface, but pure mischief underneath.
She leaned in close—lips brushing the shell of Samantha's ear—and whispered something too quiet for anyone else to hear.
Samantha's reaction was immediate.
Her entire face ignited—cheeks going from pink to scarlet in half a second. Her eyes widened, then dropped to the floor as if the tiles had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. She bit her lower lip hard, shoulders hunching slightly, and gave one tiny, shy nod—barely perceptible.
Julie pulled back with a satisfied little smile—patting Samantha's arm as she'd just given her a perfectly reasonable instruction.
Samantha swallowed visibly, then glanced at me—eyes glassy, pupils blown, a fresh wave of heat crawling down her neck and disappearing under her blouse collar. Whatever Julie had said, it had clearly hit hard.
I finished the last spoonful of soup—Yuko's careful, gentle feeding, leaving me warm inside—and leaned back against the pillows with a small, contented sigh.
Yuko set the bowl aside on the tray table, then reached for the napkin. Instead of using it, though, she hesitated... then lifted her bare hand. Her index finger brushed my lower lip—soft, tentative—wiping away a tiny drop of broth that had lingered at the corner of my mouth.
Her touch was feather-light, almost reverent. Her cheeks flushed a deep rose as she realized what she was doing—finger still resting against my lip for one heartbeat too long.
"Now..." she whispered, voice barely audible, eyes flicking down to my chest then quickly away again, "...lie down and rest for a while. Aunt Julie already booked the plane... it's for tonight."
She swallowed hard—her finger finally retreating, but the warmth of it lingered on my skin.
I nodded slowly—holding her gaze for just a second longer than necessary.
"Thank you, Sister Yuko," I said quietly, letting my voice drop into that gentle, reassuring register she always melted for. "You've taken such good care of me."
Her blush deepened to scarlet. She ducked her head, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear.
"I... I just want you to be okay," she mumbled. "That's all."
She stood—still hovering for a moment like she didn't quite want to leave my side—then stepped back toward the couch, smoothing her sweater nervously.
Behind her, the other women watched the exchange with varying degrees of amusement and heat.
-x-X-x-
Yuko's blush deepened to a vivid scarlet the moment she realized how intimately she'd just touched my lips—her fingertip still hovering near my mouth for a heartbeat too long. She yanked her hand back as if burned, eyes wide and glassy, lips parting in silent horror at her own boldness.
"I... I am going back..." she stammered, voice cracking on every syllable. "I still need to pack a few things..."
She didn't wait for anyone to respond. She spun on her heel—hair whipping behind her—and practically fled the room, footsteps quick and flustered, door swinging shut with a soft thud that felt louder than it should have.
The silence that followed was thick—charged.
I let out a low, amused chuckle, shaking my head as I watched the door settle.
Julie stepped forward immediately—hips swaying with that familiar, predatory grace—until she stood right beside the bed. She looked down at me, arms crossed under her chest, one perfect brow arched in mock disapproval.
"Husband..." she said, voice low and teasing, but with a thread of genuine fondness underneath.
"You've become really bad. Poor girl Yuko... she's completely manipulated by you. Wrapped around your little finger and doesn't even know it yet. I almost feel bad... bullying her like this, letting her drown in guilt while you play the wounded saint."
I chuckled again—darker this time—and reached out fast. My hand closed around her wrist, yanking her forward with casual strength. She stumbled half a step—gasping in delighted surprise—and I pulled her straight down onto my lap, straddling my thighs, her skirt riding up instantly to expose the tops of her stockings.
Julie's breath hitched. Her hands flew to my shoulders for balance, tits pressing against my bandaged chest through her blouse.
"What are you doing—?" she stammered, voice cracking into a half-laugh, half-moan. "Everyone is watching...!"
I grinned up at her—unrepentant—hands already sliding up the backs of her thighs, under her skirt, gripping the firm, warm flesh of her ass.
"Hmph..." I murmured, voice rough and teasing. "I didn't expect my wife to still be so shy. There's no outsider here, Julie. They're all your sisters now."
I tilted my head toward the room—Gabriela lounging on the edge of the bed with a wicked smile, Samantha standing frozen near the door with wide eyes and parted lips, Sarah leaning against the wall with her shirt still scandalously open, cleavage heaving as she bit her lip to stifle a laugh, Lorena perched on the armrest giggling behind her hand, Marina calmly tapping her tablet but watching with a small, amused curve to her mouth.
Julie's blush flared brighter—rare for her—but she didn't try to pull away. Instead, she shifted her hips deliberately, grinding down once against the growing bulge in my pants, letting me feel how wet she already was through her panties.
Suddenly, the sharp trill of a phone cut through the room's heavy, post-tease quiet.
Everyone's heads turned.
It was Samantha's—vibrating insistently on the side table.
She froze—eyes widening in instant dread as she saw the caller ID flash on the screen: Nico.
Her hand trembled as she picked it up, voice barely a whisper.
"Jack... it's my ex-boyfriend... he's bothering me again..."
I chuckled—low, dark—and plucked the phone from her fingers before she could answer.
The screen glowed: Nico in bold letters, call timer already ticking.
I hit accept and put it to my ear.
"Hello..."
A furious male voice exploded through the speaker—loud enough that everyone in the room could hear.
"Who the fuck are you? Where is Samantha? Put her on right now!"
I leaned back against the pillows—casual, unbothered—while Julie chose that exact moment to press herself tighter against my lap. Her soaked panties dragged along the length of my cock through my pants, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate grind that made my breath hitch. The thick head caught against her clit; she bit her lip to stifle a moan—but not quite fast enough.
I groaned—low, involuntary—right into the phone.
Nico's voice cracked with rage.
"What the hell was that? Where is she? Give her the phone right fucking now!"
I let another groan slip out—louder this time—as Julie rocked harder, her wet heat soaking through my pants, her breath hot against my neck.
"Samantha..." I said slowly, voice rough with pleasure, "...she's hmm... busy..."
Julie pressed down again—grinding her clit directly over the throbbing ridge of my cock—making me hiss through my teeth.
Nico practically snarled.
"Busy doing what? Who the fuck are you? Put her on!"
I laughed—short, dark—and tightened my grip on Julie's hips, pulling her down harder so my cock slotted perfectly between her soaked folds through the fabric.
"Didn't I tell you she's busy?" I said, voice dropping into something cold and dangerous. "Her mouth is already full... she can't speak right now. And stop bothering her."
I hung up.
The line went dead.
Silence crashed back into the room—thick, electric.
Julie let out a soft, filthy laugh against my throat, hips still rolling in slow, teasing circles.
"That was cruel," she whispered, voice dripping with approval. "And so fucking hot."
Samantha stood frozen—eyes huge, cheeks flaming, thighs clenched so tight her knees knocked together.
"Jack..." she breathed, voice shaking. "You... you just... told him..."
I smirked—reaching out with my free hand to cup Samantha's cheek, thumb brushing the lingering wetness of her tears and the faint gloss of cum still on her lower lip.
"Samantha," I said, voice low and calm, "I have an idea. Why don't we make the lie the truth... show it to your ex-boyfriend... so that he can willingly give up."
Samantha's eyes widened—pupils dilating in surprise. A fresh wave of crimson flooded her cheeks, spreading down her throat and disappearing under the collar of her new blouse.
"What... what lie?" she whispered, voice trembling, though the way her thighs clenched together told me she already knew.
I chuckled—dark, patient—letting my thumb trace the curve of her bottom lip.
"The lie about your mouth being full..."
Samantha's breath caught audibly. Understanding hit her like a spark—her lips parted on a tiny, shocked gasp, eyes flicking down to my lap where my cock was already thickening again beneath the blanket.
She looked up at me—wide-eyed, panicked, aroused—cheeks burning so hot I could feel the heat radiating off her skin.
"You... you mean..." she stammered, voice barely a breath.
I took her phone from her limp fingers—unlocked it, and opened the camera app. I handed it to Julie, who was already grinning like a cat with cream.
"Here," I said. "Help me shoot."
Julie shifted immediately—graceful, shameless—climbing onto the bed and swinging one leg over my head until she straddled my face. Her tight pencil dress rode up her thighs, bunching around her hips, exposing the black lace of her panties pressed directly against my mouth.
The fabric was already damp—warm, musky, tasting of her earlier arousal. She grinded down once—slow, deliberate—smearing her wetness across my lips.
"Mmm..." Julie hummed, adjusting the phone angle above us. "Perfect view. Samantha's pretty little mouth... your thick cock... my pussy on your face... this video's going to break that boy's heart."
Sarah—still leaning against the wall—pushed off and sauntered closer, voice low and encouraging.
"Why don't you give it a try, Samantha?" she purred. "Show Nico exactly why you don't need him anymore. Show him what a good girl you are for Jack."
Samantha gulped—loud enough for everyone to hear. Her hands trembled as she climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress between my spread legs.
She hesitated—eyes flicking nervously to Julie (who was now recording steadily, hips rocking in slow circles over my mouth), to Gabriela (smiling warmly from the side), to Sarah (watching with predatory glee), to Marina (calmly observing, tablet set aside), to Lorena (giggling softly behind her hand).
I lifted my hips slightly—enough to make my cock strain against the front of my pants.
"Go on," I murmured against Julie's panties—voice muffled but clear. "Julie... start recording."
Julie tapped the screen—red dot blinking to life.
"Rolling," she whispered, grinding down harder so my tongue pressed against the soaked lace covering her clit. "Show him, little sister. Show Nico what a full mouth really looks like."
Samantha's fingers shook as she reached for my waistband—unbuttoning, unzipping, tugging my pants down just enough. My cock sprang free—thick, veiny, already leaking—slapping her cheek with a heavy thwack.
A red mark bloomed instantly across her pale skin.
"Aaaha...!" Samantha gasped—half pain, half shock—eyes fluttering as the hot, musky scent of me filled her nose.
Julie, Gabriela, Sarah, Marina, and Lorena all let out soft, delighted chuckles—watching the fat cock leave its imprint on the shy maid's face.
"Fuck... that was beautiful," Sarah breathed. "Do it again. Let it mark her."
Samantha whimpered—lips parting instinctively—then leaned forward. Her small hands wrapped around the base—barely able to circle the girth—and she guided the swollen head to her mouth.
The camera caught everything: the way her lips stretched wide around the head, the soft pop as she took it inside, the way her cheeks hollowed on the first slow suck. Precum smeared across her tongue; she moaned around it—vibrations traveling straight up my cock.
Julie rocked harder against my face—moaning low as my tongue pushed the soaked lace aside and plunged into her dripping cunt.
"Mmm... look at her go," Julie purred into the phone. "Samantha's mouth... so full already... stretching around your cock, Jack... bet Nico never got this deep. Bet he never made her gag like this..."
Samantha did gag—softly—when I thrust up gently, pushing another inch past her lips. Tears pricked her eyes, but she didn't pull back. Instead, she hollowed her cheeks harder, sucking with desperate devotion, tongue swirling around the underside while her hands stroked what wouldn't fit.
Gabriela leaned in—stroking Samantha's hair gently.
"Good girl... take him deeper... show that ex what he lost... let Jack fuck your throat while Julie rides his face... mmm... you're so pretty like this... choking on cock for your new family..."
Sarah stepped closer—reaching down to pinch one of Samantha's nipples through her blouse.
"Deeper, little Samantha," she whispered. "Make him cum down your throat. Film it all for Nico... let him see what a perfect cocksleeve you've become."
Samantha moaned around my cock—vibrations making my hips buck—tears streaming now, but her hips rocked back against nothing, pussy dripping through her panties onto the sheets.
Julie grinded down harder—smearing her wetness across my tongue and chin—moaning into the phone.
"That's it... suck him... gag on him... show the world why you belong to Jack now... mmm... my pussy's dripping on his face while you choke on his cock... perfect little sisters... perfect little sluts..."
The camera kept rolling.
Samantha's throat worked frantically—bulging obscenely with every desperate bob of her head, the thick outline of my cock clearly visible sliding down her slender neck like a living bulge.
She forced herself deeper, gagging wetly around my girth, her lips stretched paper-thin around the veiny cock as saliva poured from the corners of her mouth in thick, messy strings that dripped onto my balls and soaked the sheets below.
"Fuck... that's it, you little cocksleeve," I groaned loudly, hips bucking up instinctively.
"Choke on my fat cock... take every fucking inch down that greedy throat... look at you—tears streaming, mascara running, drooling like a cheap whore... your mouth feels so fucking hot and tight... like a wet velvet glove squeezing my dick... goddamn, Samantha... you're sucking me so good I can feel your throat milking the head..."
She only used her mouth now—no hands—just pure, sloppy deepthroating, forcing her face down until her nose smashed against my pubic bone and her chin pressed against my heavy balls.
Her throat convulsed violently around me—tight, rippling spasms that massaged every inch of my cock as she gagged and retched, teary eyes dripping hot tears down her flushed cheeks.
I groaned again—deeper, filthier—my voice rough with raw pleasure.
"Shit... your throat's convulsing so hard... it's like your esophagus is trying to swallow my cock whole... fuck, I can feel the head popping into your stomach... you're such a nasty little cumdump... gagging and crying but still pushing deeper... keep going—choke yourself on me—make those pretty eyes water more..."
Samantha pulled back suddenly—coughing violently, thick ropes of spit and precum connecting her swollen, ruined lips to my glistening cockhead in long, sloppy strands. She hacked twice, gasping for air, chest heaving as strings of drool hung from her chin and dripped onto her new blouse.
Marina leaned in from the side, smirking cruelly as she watched the wrecked maid struggle for breath.
"What happened, little maid?" she teased, voice dripping with mockery. "Can't handle Master's cock? Get used to it... your throat's going to be ruined every single day from now on."
Samantha wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand—still coughing softly—then stared at my throbbing, spit-shiny length with wide, lust-drunk eyes.
"It's... it's gotten even bigger..." she rasped, voice hoarse and broken from the brutal throat-fucking. "So fucking thick... stretching my jaw... my throat feels raw... like it's been fucked by a baseball bat... but... but I love it... love choking on it... love how it makes me gag and drool like a pathetic slut..."
She turned her tear-streaked face toward the phone camera Julie was holding steady—recording every filthy second. Samantha's expression twisted into something defiant and mocking, mascara running in black rivers down her cheeks.
"Nico..." she spat into the lens, voice raw but dripping with cruel satisfaction.
"Just forget it. You can never compare to this. Your tiny little pee-pee... It's fucking nothing. Look at this cock—look how it stretches my mouth, how it chokes me, how it owns my throat."
"You could never make me cry like this... never make me gag and drool like a brainless whore... never make me beg for more..."
She wrapped both small hands around my massive cock—barely able to encircle the girth—and shook it deliberately, slapping the heavy, leaking head against her outstretched tongue with loud, wet thwack-thwack-thwack sounds.
"See this, you pathetic loser?" she taunted the camera. "This is what a real man's cock looks like. Thick. Veiny. Throbbing. Making me gag... making me cry... making me his perfect little throat-fuck toy. You? You're nothing. Just a sad memory with a baby dick. Goodbye, Nico."