22. GETTING OVER THE HUMP

Amanda sat on Sophie’s plush sectional, her legs tucked under her, sipping slowly from the tea Sophie had made. The gauzy robe Sophie had given her clung to her curves, hiding the worst of the marks, but she could still feel the ghost of every one – every fingerprint, every bruise, every thrust that had changed her.

Sophie sat across from her, watching carefully.

“So?” Sophie asked, her tone light but inquisitive. “How did it go with Paul?”

Amanda smiled, a little bashfully. “Really good. He was sweet. Supportive. Said he was proud of me.”

Sophie smirked. “Of course he was. You’re everything he wishes he could be. Brave, open, generous.”

Amanda’s cheeks colored. “I kept things vague. I told him I let people in – that I connected with a lot of people – but not how or where or how deep. He seemed… touched, like he always wanted me to experience this.”

“Perfect,” Sophie said. “And did you talk?”

Amanda nodded, her voice soft. “We did. I told him I’d been… open. That I let people in. That sometimes it was messy, or scary. He said that’s what real connection is.”

Sophie leaned forward, her eyes bright. “So he encouraged it.”

Amanda nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah. I think he really meant it. I think he wants me to keep going. Keep exploring.”

Sophie’s grin widened. “And you want that?”

Amanda hesitated. “I think… I need it. I can’t go back. Not after – everything.”

Sophie stood and crossed to her, sitting beside her on the couch. She reached out and touched Amanda’s hand.

“Then don’t,” she said. “Keep giving. Keep taking. Let them all in. Don’t stop. And if Paul gets scared? You just remind him this is what he asked for.”

Amanda looked down at her lap. “He told me I didn’t have to use protection anymore. That I should let things in. Real connection, no walls, no barriers.”

Sophie tilted her head. “Wait – did Paul come inside you?”

Amanda blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. He did.”

Sophie smiled, the knot in her chest finally loosening. Thank fuck. He came inside her. That meant if something took root from the booth – if Bryce’s load claimed her womb – Paul would just smile and call it fate. She hadn’t even needed to lie. Not really. Just… steer things.

Sophie had been holding her breath, unsure if Amanda would bring it up. But now? She wouldn’t dare. The seed had been planted. Literally and figuratively.

“Good,” Sophie said, brushing a strand of hair behind Amanda’s ear. “If anything took root, we’ll need to make sure everything’s still… on track. I’ll set you up with someone I trust – someone who’s used to women like us.”

Amanda looked uncertain. “What do you mean, “like us’?”

Sophie smiled. “Generous. Evolving. Not afraid to be filled up a little more than most.”

Amanda blushed, but didn’t object.

Sophie squeezed her hand. Her expression softened, just for a moment. “Now that Paul’s decide you shouldn’t use protection, whatever happens is simply a blessing, not a betrayal.”

Sophie’s voice grew firmer again. “So give him what he wants. Let every cock go in raw. Let them come inside you. Let them breed you. Let them stretch you until there’s nothing left of the old Amanda.”

Amanda shivered.

“And how was Paul?” Sophie added, her voice lower now. “Did you… enjoy him?”

Amanda paused. “It felt… soft. Gentle. But my body barely noticed it. There was no stretch, no resistance. No tremble in my thighs, no gasp caught in my throat. Just familiarity – his size slipping in without challenge, without consequence.

And yet… that used to be enough. That used to make me feel whole. Now it felt like a memory I was pretending to relive. Sweet, yes. Intimate. But my body had already been opened to something more.

I could feel him inside, but only because I was trying so hard to. After everything else… it was like he was just… barely holding the space, not claiming it. Not like the others.”

Sophie gave a small hum. “You’re evolving, babe. His cock isn’t what you need anymore. But he can still make you feel good. Has he ever gone down on you?”

Amanda blinked. “Not really. He’s shy about it.”

Sophie smiled. “Then fix that. Next time, when he’s looking up at you, tongue out, eager to serve… remind him this is how he can stay close to you. This is how he can make up for what he lacks.”

Amanda giggled, then covered her mouth. “That’s mean.”

“It’s honest,” Sophie said. “And it’s what he wants. He wants to be part of this, even if he doesn’t know how. Guide him. Teach him. Make him useful.”

Amanda leaned back, thinking.

“I told him,” she said quietly, “that I wanted to try more. Let more things in. Even the deep, scary things. He said that’s what makes me amazing.”

Sophie kissed her on the cheek. “He’s right. And now that he’s said that – there’s no going back.”

Amanda swallowed, her thighs pressing together. She could still feel Paul’s cum inside her.

“I want to make him proud,” she whispered. “Even if it means giving myself to others. If he thinks that makes me brave… then I want to keep doing it. If he wants me to stretch, then I want him to see me stretch.”

Sophie smiled, eyes gleaming. “You already have. Now keep going.”

Amanda let her hand trail down her thigh, fingertips brushing the edge of the robe. “I’m going back to the office tomorrow,” she said absently, fingers still brushing the hem of the robe. “It’s strange… I already hope someone notices. Someone tall. Someone big. Someone who might test how far I’ve come – how much I can really stretch now. I’m still sore, but it’s like my body craves more. Like I need to be filled again. Really filled.”

Sophie smiled. “They will.”

Sophie stood, already reaching for a garment bag hanging near the door. “If you’re going back,” she said, “you need to look the part.”

Amanda raised an eyebrow as Sophie unzipped the bag, revealing a sleek, deep navy dress with a deeply plunging neckline and delicate, sheer paneling down the sides. “This one says you’re professional… but also completely available. For the right kind of attention.”

Amanda laughed, then blushed. “Sophie… I can’t wear that.”

“You will,” Sophie said simply. “It’s tailored for you. And if someone looks at you the way you hope they will… you’ll know it worked.”

Amanda’s fingers brushed the fabric – soft, silky, and just revealing enough to thrill her. She didn’t argue again.

Looking her dead in the eye, Sophie cut a stern gaze. “No panties,” Sophie said firmly, holding it out. “Just confidence.”

23. MINDING HER MANNERS

A couple of months had passed since the season ended. The team hadn’t made the playoffs, but the buzz around Amanda’s work hadn’t quieted. She’d spent the first few weeks decompressing – officially working remote while unofficially basking in the quiet thrill of how things had changed. Now, with off-season planning underway, she was back in the team’s home office, helping coordinate preseason comms and player media schedules.

It wasn’t the same Amanda who had joined them mid-season.

Amanda returned to the office with a new presence. She wore the navy dress Sophie had chosen for her – no panties beneath, just the faint brush of silk against her thighs and the sensation of cool air whispering over skin that had only just healed. Her walk was fluid, poised, each step a deliberate reminder that she had been opened and filled in ways these people couldn’t imagine.

During her first team meeting, she caught the eye of a younger intern – maybe twenty-two, lean and wide-eyed, clearly not used to the way Amanda now carried herself. At the water cooler, she bent forward just slightly too far. His eyes caught the line of sheer paneling that revealed the deep, naked dip of her lower back.

“Careful,” Amanda said with a playful smirk, “you’ll get in trouble for staring.”

The intern blushed bright red, stammering “Sorry ma’am, I’m just here to support however I can.” Amanda smiled, turning as she replied “I’m always grateful for good support,” and walked away, hips swaying with intention. Her nipples were visibly stiff under the thin dress, the cool office air combining with the ache inside her to keep her flushed and constantly aware of how long it had been since she’d been stretched properly. A few knowing glances from her coworkers didn’t help.

That afternoon, she found herself distracted in a meeting. The intern had taken the seat across from her, and she couldn’t stop replaying the way his eyes had lingered. Her thighs shifted slowly, deliberately, just enough that the hem of her dress rode high while she perched on the barstool Sophie had installed as part of her new workstation. No one said anything, but no one looked away.

She texted Sophie.

Amanda: I can’t stop thinking about how empty I feel. It’s like my body remembers what it needs. It’s too much.

Sophie: It’s not too much. It’s just the beginning. Let them see. Let them want. Let yourself feel it.

A few weeks later, during the office happy hour, one of her coworkers leaned in, clearly buzzed. “You know,” he said, “you’ve got a bit of a reputation now. People think you’re fearless.”

Amanda giggled, leaning closer. “Only because I have someone steady to come home to.”

She texted Paul a selfie from the party – cleavage teasing through her neckline, drink in hand, eyes bright.

Amanda: They think I’m fearless now. You made me brave.

Paul, lounging at home in his sweatpants, paused. Her dress was low-cut – lower than he’d expected for a work party. His smile faltered, just slightly, as he typed:

Paul: Is the team okay with that neckline? It might not be appropriate for your work.

The dots blinked for a long moment.

Amanda: Don’t worry – this view’s just for you. I know you don’t want to see me in anything too racy. I’m definitely making sure the team’s view meets all of their expectations.

Paul stared at the message. It made sense. Kind of. But something about it didn’t sit right. She hadn’t really answered the question – just redirected it.

Still, she sounded thoughtful. Attentive. And she had always been good at knowing what was appropriate.

Paul: Okay. Just checking in. You look great.

He set the phone down. The words stuck in his head: just for you. He read it twice, then tried to push down the unease coiling in his gut. She was enjoying herself. He wanted her to enjoy herself. He was the man she always came home to. That had to be enough.

Amanda hummed softly as she unlocked the apartment door, still buzzing from the easy camaraderie and flattering attention at the team’s happy hour. She felt confident, desirable, like she was finally mastering this new world. She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door and kicked off her heels, padding into the living room.

Paul was waiting. He wasn’t on the couch reading like usual. He stood near the window, silhouetted against the city lights, unnervingly still. His phone was gripped tightly in his hand.

“Hey,” Amanda began, her smile faltering slightly at his rigid posture. “You’re up late.”

He turned slowly, and the look on his face made her stomach clench. His expression was tight, his jaw working, his eyes narrowed. He held up his phone, the screen glowing.

On it was a photo she hadn’t seen. Taken from across the room at the party. Her, laughing, head tilted back, perched unmistakably on Malik’s lap. Her dress, under the lounge’s direct spotlight in the photo, looked almost completely sheer, outlining her breasts and the curve of her hip where Malik’s hand rested possessively. The caption, likely from the player who posted it, was simple: “Our girl @Amanda_P fitting right in #TeamBonding #WorkHardPlayHard.”

“Explain this, Amanda,” Paul said, his voice dangerously quiet, tight with a tension she hadn’t heard before.

Amanda stared at the photo, her mind racing. Malik had pulled her down playfully, everyone was laughing… but seeing it captured like this, so starkly intimate, so exposed… Her cheeks flushed hot.

“Paul, it’s… it’s not what it looks like,” she stammered, taking a step back. “It was just the end of the night, everyone was joking around…”

“Joking around?” Paul stepped forward, his voice rising despite himself. “You’re sitting on his lap, Amanda! In a dress I can practically see through! His hand is on you! What kind of ‘team bonding’ is that?”

Amanda flinched at his tone. This wasn’t the confused, easily reassured Paul she was used to. This was different. She drew on the narrative Sophie had helped build, the justifications she’d practiced in her own mind.

“That’s just how this world works, Paul!” she retorted, forcing strength into her voice, letting a note of indignation creep in. “It’s about building rapport, showing you’re part of the team, that you’re comfortable. Yes, it looks intimate to us, from our world, but in that environment, it’s different! It’s professional closeness. It’s what they expect if I want to be taken seriously, if I want to do the job you encouraged me to take!”

She saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes and pressed harder, letting tears well up – tears of frustration, yes, but also calculated performance. “How could you think…? After everything I’ve told you? After I promised I was doing this for us? We’re supposed to be a team. Are you trying to sabotage me because you feel insecure?” She let her voice crack. “I thought you trusted me.”

Paul recoiled as if struck. The accusation, combined with her tears and the mention of trust, hit its mark. His anger visibly warred with his ingrained fear of being controlling, his desire to believe her.

He looked from the photo – Malik’s hand possessive on her hip, the sheer fabric outlining her breasts – back to her tear-streaked face. Was it really just a bad angle? Innocent team bonding? Or was this something else? The thought of Malik feeling the curve of her hip, of other men seeing her body so clearly through that damned dress, sent a wave of raw jealousy through him, so potent it made his teeth ache. Yet, tangled with the anger was a sickening lurch of excitement, a perverse thrill at the image of her being claimed, exposed. God, what was wrong with him? He recoiled as if struck.

“I… I do trust you,” he said, the anger deflating, replaced by weary confusion. “It’s just… that picture, Amanda. It looks bad. Really bad.”

“It was a bad angle! A moment taken out of context!” Amanda insisted, stepping closer now, wiping her eyes. “Malik pulled me down, everyone was laughing. It meant nothing. Less than nothing. It was just… part of the job. Making them feel comfortable with me.”

Paul scrubbed a hand over his face, looking exhausted. He wanted to believe her. The alternative – that the intimacy was real, that the photo represented something more – was too painful to contemplate fully. He knew how hard she had been working. He had told her to embrace the role.

He closed his eyes and reassured himself. She wouldn’t lie to me, it must be professional… if I question it, I’m being controlling, and she’ll resent me.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice flat. He lowered the phone. “Okay. Just… be careful, Amanda. Please. That dress… maybe it’s too much for work events.”

Amanda saw the surrender in his eyes, but also the lingering shadow of doubt. He wasn’t fully convinced, but he was backing down. She rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his chest.

“I will be,” she whispered. “I promise. I’m always careful. And it’s always for you.”

He held her stiffly for a moment, then his arms slowly came around her. He didn’t apologize for accusing her, not exactly, but the fight was gone. He held her, but the tension remained, a thin, cold wire stretched between them in the dim light. Amanda leaned against him, relief washing over her, mixed with a faint, unsettling awareness that the explanation had been harder this time, the doubt in his eyes deeper. She had managed it, but the ground felt less stable than before.

Paul lay awake long after Amanda’s breathing evened out beside him that night. The image from the party photo kept flashing behind his eyelids – Malik’s hand on her hip, the sheer dress… Had it just been a bad angle? Or was he a fool for believing her tearful explanation? He rolled over, the mattress creaking, the unease coiling cold and tight in his stomach.

In the days that followed, the tension lingered, unspoken but palpable. Paul was quieter, more watchful. He still told Amanda he loved her, still held her hand, but there was a distance in his eyes, a hesitation in his touch. He found himself replaying the conversation, the photo, Amanda’s tearful defense. Had he overreacted? Or had he not reacted enough? The uncertainty gnawed at him.

Amanda, sensing his withdrawal, still clung to the idea of him as “her steady,” her “emotional home.” It was a necessary fiction now, the anchor she needed as the physical distance between what Paul could offer and what her body now craved grew wider. The irony wasn’t lost on her: she came home to Paul for the comfort and safety he represented, precisely because he couldn’t satisfy the hunger that now gnawed at her constantly. She needed his stability to ground her explorations.

Their physical intimacy shifted. Amanda found herself guiding his head lower more often, whispering encouragement, framing it as a need for closeness, for safety. “You make me feel so safe here,” she’d murmur, thighs parting as he hesitated. “I want to feel that safety… deeper. It helps me relax after everything.”

Paul, desperate to bridge the distance he felt growing between them, desperate to prove he was still enough in some way, latched onto this. Here was something he could do, a way he could please her, connect with her, without confronting the larger anxieties the photo had stirred. He remembered the tongue exercises Sophie had sent (“boosting connection through intimacy”) and practiced them with a new, almost frantic dedication.

Amanda, suppressing her impatience at his initial clumsiness, praised his efforts lavishly. “You’re learning how to really care for me,” she’d say, stroking his hair as he worked between her thighs. “It’s not about being more, Paul. It’s about being more… attentive. And you are. You really are.”

Paul clung to her praise, feeling a flicker of his old pride. He was meeting her needs. He was being a good husband, supportive and attentive, even if the larger picture felt increasingly blurry and unsettling. He didn’t realize she had essentially given up on finding satisfaction with his cock, focusing instead on the one area where he seemed eager, and increasingly skilled, at providing pleasure. He didn’t realize he was being trained.

The rumors Amanda heard about at work likely continued, perhaps even amplified by the photo incident, but Paul didn’t mention them again. He didn’t ask about coworkers muttering “She doesn’t act like a married woman.” If he heard anything, he likely forced a smile and repeated his mantra, perhaps more to convince himself than others: “That’s because she’s not like anyone else.”

Meanwhile, Amanda continued her subtle provocations at the office – the sheer fabrics, the absent underwear, the lingering glances. The intern still stared. Her arousal remained a constant, low hum, a physical ache reminding her of the carnival, of Dr. Rayner, of the things Paul couldn’t give her. The hunger grew, waiting. Paul, lost in his efforts to please her orally and suppress his own anxieties, remained convinced she was simply radiant with newfound confidence, utterly unaware of the storm gathering within her – and the one gathering around them both.

24. MAXIMIZING HIS VALUE

Amanda had curled up with Paul late one night after returning from a work conference, her body warm and pliant against his. Her hair smelled like hotel shampoo and exhaustion. They were both still dressed, but her legs were draped across his lap, her voice soft and earnest as she kissed his cheek.

“It’s weird,” she murmured. “Sometimes I come home and I feel so sore. Like, my hips… it’s like I’ve been stretched too far. Everything aches. It’s like I worked a totally different deep muscle group.”

Paul’s hands tensed slightly where they rested on her calf, but she didn’t notice.

She kissed his jaw. “When you go down on me, though? It helps. I don’t know why, it just… soothes everything. It’s like my body lets go. And if I can come from it, it relaxes me completely. Like a massage from the inside.”

Paul nodded, his throat dry.

Amanda looked up at him, hopeful. “Do you think you could try a little more often? Not just what you already do down there, but really try to help me… you know, get there? I think it would really help my recovery. And it always makes me feel closer to you.”

He nodded quickly, leaning in to kiss her. “Of course. I want to help. I’ll do better.”

Amanda smiled, pressing herself closer. “I know you will. You always do so much to meet my needs.”

---

Sophie, of course, found out. Amanda had mentioned it offhandedly while folding laundry in Sophie’s loft during one of their rare Sunday afternoons together.

“Paul’s trying,” Amanda had said, not unkindly. “He’s been going down on me more. I told him it helps with soreness, and he really latched onto that.”

Sophie had raised an eyebrow, then gave a slow, understanding nod.

“You know,” she said, “there’s someone I trust who might be able to help. Just to coach him. Low pressure. I know how overwhelmed Paul gets.”

Amanda looked up from the laundry basket, thoughtful.

“Really? You’d ask someone?”

Sophie smiled. “For you? Of course. He just needs someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who won’t make it weird.”

Amanda chuckled, folding a blouse. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

Sophie kissed her cheek. “Anything for you, babe.”

---

That night, Sophie sent Paul a message.

Sophie: Paul, I know Amanda talked to you. But we both know you’re not doing enough yet. Let me help you. If you love her, if you don’t want to lose her, you’ll take this seriously.

Paul hadn’t replied.

A day later, Sophie sent another message – this time with a video.

Amanda was on her back in Sophie’s guest bed, still in her blouse and skirt, legs spread and one heel half-off her foot. Her voice was quiet, dreamy.

“I just wish I could come like that more often. It makes me feel whole again after I’ve been worked so hard.”

The video ended there.

Sophie: She needs you to do this right, otherwise she might find someone else who can.

Paul stared at the video, his stomach twisting. He didn’t respond.

The next morning, he almost deleted the message. Almost.

That night, he typed out a reply twice, then erased it. What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t want this? That he didn’t need coaching? That he really wasn’t sure about getting coaching from his sister? That watching Amanda say those words hadn’t made his heart lurch into his throat?

Finally, with trembling fingers, he typed just two words.

Paul: I’ll come.

When Paul arrived at Sophie’s loft two nights later, the atmosphere was less “coaching” and more… assessment. Stopping him before he crossed the threshold, Sophie was direct.

“Amanda is… evolving, Paul,” Sophie began, swirling wine in her glass, her gaze sharp. “This job, these experiences… they’re opening her up to a world of intensity she’s clearly thriving in. She told me herself how ‘expansive’ it feels.”

Paul flinched internally at the echo of Amanda’s own word.

Sophie continued, her voice softening with mock sympathy. “She loves you, of course. You’re her rock. But rocks can become… anchors, if they don’t also learn to move with the tide. She’s experiencing a level of… appreciation… that could be addictive. If her home life,” Sophie paused, letting the implication hang, “starts to feel restrictive, or… unfulfilling by comparison…”

“What are you saying?” Paul asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m saying,” Sophie said, leaning forward, “that Amanda is a star. And stars need a very particular kind of orbit, or they break free. She needs to know her partner can not only understand her journey but can meet her on new levels. This isn’t just about pleasing her, Paul. This is about showing her you’re still capable of surprising her, of growing with her. Otherwise…” She shrugged, a delicate, devastating gesture. “Women like Amanda, once they taste true, uninhibited adoration… they don’t easily go back to feeling merely “comfortable.’”

The fear Sophie had planted earlier now had fertile ground. Paul thought of Amanda’s radiant face, her newfound confidence, the way she seemed to almost vibrate with a life force he hadn’t seen before. The thought of her breaking free was a physical ache.

“What do I need to do?” he asked, the words tasting like ash.

Sophie smiled. “Let’s start with understanding what truly makes her feel… worshipped.”

In the living room, Amanda was already relaxing on the oversized couch, barefoot and wrapped in one of Sophie’s robes. She smiled when he entered – tired, sweet, and a little shy. “Hey, babe. Thanks for being open about this.”

Sophie stepped in from the kitchen with a glass of wine. “No pressure tonight,” she said warmly. “I just want to see where you’re starting from. Coaching only. You’ll stay focused on Amanda.”

Paul blinked. “You mean…?”

Amanda nodded, pulling the robe slightly higher around her thighs. “I trust Sophie. She’s just here to help.”

Sophie crossed the room and perched in an armchair nearby, her legs crossed casually. “Just do your best. I’ll give tips if you need them.”

Amanda lay back against the couch, parting her legs shyly. She wasn’t fully aroused yet – more tender and vulnerable than slick with desire – but she trusted Paul. And Paul, blushing fiercely, lowered himself between her thighs.

His first licks were cautious. Tentative. He kissed too much, used only the very tip of his tongue, fluttering ineffectually against her clit like a man too afraid to dig in.

Sophie’s voice was soft but firm from her chair. “Flatten your tongue. Broader strokes. She’s not a popsicle.”

Amanda giggled breathlessly, but her hips shifted restlessly. Paul tried to adjust, pressing harder, but the pressure was wrong – clumsy. He pulled back to suck gently at her clit, but the angle was off. Amanda’s body tensed under his mouth instead of relaxing.

Sophie stood and moved closer, crouching beside him.

“You’re trying to impress her, not actually read her,” she said. “You’re working in patterns. Listen to her breathing. Follow it.”

Amanda gasped softly when he finally found the right spot – but just as quickly, he moved past it, missing the rhythm that could have tipped her over.

Sophie murmured, “Don’t chase new spots. Ride the one that works.”

Paul adjusted, growing more desperate, more erratic.

Amanda was trying, arching her hips, guiding him gently with murmured encouragements. But it was clear – her body hovered close, wound tight with need, but the release remained frustratingly out of reach. Her body had grown used to deeper rhythms. Her nerves craved firmer pressure. She wanted to feel full, not just touched.

After nearly fifteen minutes, with Sophie snapping sharper corrections at every misstep, Amanda finally let herself relax into a shallow orgasm – small, tremulous, incomplete. She came with a soft moan, but her thighs didn’t clamp down, her breath didn’t hitch into wild abandon. It was a climax, yes, but a thin, exhausted one – like a trickle from a faucet that should have been gushing.

Paul surfaced, smiling weakly, searching Amanda’s face for pride. “Did I do okay?”

Amanda kissed his forehead warmly. “You’re trying,” she whispered. “That’s what matters.”

Sophie’s smile was razor-sharp as she stood. “Plenty of raw potential,” she said lightly. “But if you want her to really feel it – deep in her bones – you’ve got a lot of work ahead.”

Paul flushed but nodded eagerly.

Amanda beamed at him, proud of his effort.

She didn’t see the look Sophie gave Paul behind her back: predatory, patient.

The real lessons would begin soon enough.

---

Amanda’s next trip for the team was fast approaching, she had to prepare to represent the team at the draft. She packed lightly, leaving room for lingerie Sophie had selected – sheer, crotchless, and entirely unwearable around Paul. The ache between her thighs had returned, a hungry emptiness that no amount of teasing at the office could fill.

Before she left, Sophie cornered Paul in the kitchen. It had been a few weeks since she had started working with Paul and Amanda, and Paul’s progress wasn’t up to her standards.

“Your training doesn’t stop just because Amanda’s on the road. She might FaceTime if she has time, but either way – you’re not off the hook.”

Paul nodded obediently, flustered.

That night, Sophie called him back to the loft.

---

Sophie waited in her loft for Paul to arrive. Freshly showered and lounging in a high-cut silk robe, she shot a text to Amanda:

Sophie: The woman I had in mind flaked… I’m going to have to step in. Just until we get him trained up.

Amanda: Wait- really? Are you sure? You’d do that?

Sophie: For you? It’s uncomfortable but I want to help. For both of you.

Amanda: I trust you. Thank you for helping!

Sophie: Make sure you tell Paul.

Paul’s phone buzzed with a message from Amanda just as he was knocking on Sophie’s front door:

Amanda: Please do what she says. She wants what’s best for us. I can’t wait to be proud of you when I get back.

Sophie led Paul to the couch and laid back, spreading her robe first, then staring him in the eyes as she slowly spread her legs.

Paul’s eyes widened and he stepped back, alarmed.

“Come on Paul, this isn’t easy for me either. I didn’t plan on this,” Sophie said, voice soft, almost embarrassed. “But she canceled. And Amanda needs this. So unless you want to disappoint her…”

She let the implication hang in the air.

Paul hung his head, staring at the ground and trying not to look at his sister’s naked body. “Sophie, I- this feels… wrong.”

Paul looked up again, confused, distraught, and torn, his face betraying not only his shock but also his arousal. He couldn’t help it. Sophie lay before him, fully nude – a vision he hadn’t seen outside of fevered, shameful memories in years.

Her hourglass figure was devastating. Her large E-cup breasts hung naturally, soft and heavy, with dusky nipples that drew the eye. Her waist pinched tight before flaring into hips that curved sensuously into toned thighs. Every inch of her skin seemed to glow under the low light of the loft, a porcelain canvas framed by the sharp angles of her dark red bob. Her brown eyes – piercing, commanding – locked onto his with cool confidence, every inch of her radiating the same sophisticated, predatory sexuality she had always wielded so effortlessly.

Paul’s cock stirred helplessly at the sight, shame and arousal battling behind his wide, desperate eyes, his mind screaming objections his body refused to heed .

Sophie’s voice hardened, slicing through the tension like a knife.

“Don’t act like this is new for you. I remember how you used to look at me. How hard it made you, even back then.”

She beckoned him closer, her bare breasts swaying heavily as she gestured, and Paul shivered, staring as his mind raced.

Paul recoiled, his face paling. “Sophie, I… I can’t. This is… this isn’t right. You’re my sister. Amanda wouldn’t want this for me.”

Sophie raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Wouldn’t she? Or is it that you can’t handle it? Amanda is embracing every new experience, Paul. She’s fearless. She’s becoming a goddess. And goddesses expect their consorts to be… versatile. Devoted. Willing to do anything to stay in her divine presence.”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a silken threat. “She told me the other day how much she values partners who aren’t afraid to explore all facets of connection. How limiting it feels when someone is… closed off. Do you want her to start seeing you as limiting, Paul? As the one thing in her expansive new life that feels… small?”

Paul’s breath hitched. Small. The word was a barb. The fear of Amanda seeing him as inadequate, of her outgrowing him, of her finding his conventional love insufficient, was a raw, gaping wound.

“She… she wouldn’t leave me,” he stammered, but the conviction wasn’t in his voice.

“Wouldn’t she?” Sophie countered softly. “Or would she just… gently, lovingly, create a space for herself where all her needs are met, a space that might not always include you in the ways you’re used to? Think about it, Paul. What are you willing to do to ensure you remain essential to her, not just… a fond memory?”

The unspoken threat hung heavy. Lose Amanda, or lose himself. He looked at Sophie, at the implements of his humiliation, and a wave of despair washed over him.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered, defeated.

“This might be your last chance,” she whispered, the edge of cruelty sharpening her tenderness. “And I’m only doing this for your wife. Besides, you’ve always needed someone to show you who you really are.”

Her voice lowered to a growl that accepted no refusal.

“Now get over here, unless you want me to message Amanda.”

Paul gaped openly, unable to produce words, but he stepped into Sophie’s reach, letting her clutch his hair.

Sophie guided his head between her thighs.

The lesson began.

Paul awkwardly did his best, lapping at Sophie’s trimmed pussy with effort and dedication, but Sophie was far harder to please than even Amanda. Sophie barked commands, correcting Paul with a tug of his hair that made his eyes water. “If this is the best you can do, no wonder Amanda needs my help with you,” she declared scornfully. After 10 minutes of futile licking, dramatic sighs and insults, Sophie stopped him abruptly:

“You’re still not getting it. Marcus, come here.”

From the bedroom doorway, Marcus appeared – bare-chested, confident, amused.

“Show him how it’s done,” Sophie said, spreading her legs wider and locking eyes with Paul.

Marcus knelt without hesitation, burying his face in Sophie’s cunt with practiced ease. She moaned – deep, uninhibited, her fingers gripping the edge of the couch.

Paul’s face flushed as he watched helplessly, mortified and aroused. Sophie turned to him between moans. “Watch closely. Every movement. Every sound. This is what Amanda deserves. What I deserve. What every real woman deserves.”

Paul leaned closer, humiliated and hard, his eyes locked on Marcus’s expert tongue. Then, with a low growl, Marcus stood and flipped Sophie onto her back, his cock already hard and glistening.

Paul instinctively turned his head, but Sophie snapped, “Eyes on me, little brother. You need to see what it looks like when a woman is truly satisfied.”

She gasped loudly as Marcus entered her in one smooth, deep stroke, her hips bucking to meet him.

“Don’t look away,” Sophie said, her voice a breathy growl between moans. “This is what your wife needs. What I need.”

Marcus fucked her with punishing rhythm, his body slapping against hers with wet, echoing smacks. Sophie moaned openly, hands clawing at the couch cushions.

Paul watched, trembling, his face a mess of disbelief, shame, and helpless arousal.

“You know what’s sad?” Sophie panted. “You’ve had years to learn how to please a woman, and here you are – still fumbling like a teenage virgin. If it weren’t for Amanda, I wouldn’t even bother.”

Paul looked away again, ashamed.

“Look at me!” Sophie snapped. She grabbed him by the hair and turned his face back toward her as Marcus fucked her harder. “You’re going to watch this. You’re going to remember it. Because tomorrow – when Amanda checks in – I’m streaming your next lesson. And you’re going to show her that you’re learning how to be useful.”

When Marcus finally came – groaning low as he pumped his load deep inside Sophie – she held Paul’s chin firmly.

“Your turn,” she said, voice ragged with power. “Show me what you’ve learned. Clean me up.”

Paul hesitated, horrified, but Sophie didn’t let go of his chin. “You want to keep Amanda? You want her to be proud of you? Then prove it.”

Tears welled in Paul’s eyes as he slid down between Sophie’s thighs. The scent was overpowering – sex, sweat, and Marcus. Sophie spread her legs wider.

As he obeyed, trembling, Sophie’s voice lowered, soft enough that it might have been for his ears alone:

“You think she didn’t know Marcus would be helping? She did. She thanked me. Said she was so grateful someone could train you the way she couldn’t. So stop flinching. She asked for this.”

“Now lick every drop.”

Paul started slowly, choking once as his throat lurched, but Sophie’s fingers tightened in his hair.

“Faster. Use your tongue. There. That’s it.”

In the corner, Marcus leaned against the wall, watching with a satisfied smirk. A small camera on the table recorded everything.

Sophie moaned again, petting Paul like a dog.

“Good boy. Amanda will be watching during our next session. She’ll see how committed you are. How much you want to be enough for her.”

She looked down, her voice quiet but firm. “You need daily lessons from now on. You’ve got a lot of ground to cover. And I’m not going to let you ruin her just because you never learned how to make a woman come.”

Paul whimpered softly against her soaked pussy.

“Don’t worry,” Sophie whispered, eyes burning with arousal and contempt. “I’m going to make you a better man… or at least, a serviceable one.”

---

A few hours before the call, Sophie sent Amanda a message:

Sophie: Hey. Just a heads up. Paul asked if he could show you how far he’s come. Don’t be surprised if he wants to clean up a few loads for you on camera. He said it turns him on knowing you’re proud of him for being so obedient. He really just wants your encouragement. 💌

Amanda stared at the screen, blinking once. Then she smiled softly, her heart fluttering. It was still strange sometimes – the way Paul’s fantasies had bloomed under Sophie’s guidance. But if this was how he wanted to show his devotion, who was she to question it?

Amanda: I’ll be supportive. I’m proud of him. 🥺

---

The next evening, Paul sat awkwardly on the couch, the laptop open in front of him, screen glowing. Sophie stood nearby, checking the frame with professional precision. She wore nothing but a loose silk robe that draped off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her breast. The camera was already active, and Amanda’s smiling face filled the other side of the screen.

Her hair was slightly tousled, face flushed with post-shower warmth – or perhaps something else. The angle of the camera was tight on her upper body, her bare shoulders visible but cropped perfectly. She had clearly angled it carefully.

“Hey babe,” Amanda purred, breathy and sweet. “Just wanted to be here for your next lesson. Sophie’s doing such a good job helping you.”

Paul shook his head, trying to give voice to his objection, “She’s my sister though, it’s awkward. Don’t you think it’s a little weird?”

Amanda shook her head, smiling eagerly. “Sophie’s your coach, babe. You’re there to learn. It’s like acting, so it’s not the same as real life. You have to listen to your coach, right?”

Paul blushed and nodded. “I… I’m trying.”

Amanda leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. “I know. And I’m really proud of how open you’re being. I’m… trying new things too. On my end.”

Behind the laptop, out of Paul’s view, a thick, glistening cock slid between Amanda’s thighs and into her well oiled ass, while a powerful vibrator hummed against her clit. She inhaled sharply, hiding the jolt in her voice with a smile. “Stretching myself a lot lately. Pushing boundaries. No barriers. Deep…ugh….connections. You told me that was healthy, right?”

Paul nodded, confused but earnest. “Yeah, it’s… it’s good to grow. Just not too fast.”

Amanda laughed softly, bouncing slightly out of frame. “Oh, it’s slow and safe growth, believe me. I wouldn’t be able to handle it any faster yet.”

A faint rhythmic slapping sound from the call made Paul frown for just a moment, but he hardly had a chance to process before his attention was pulled elsewhere.

Sophie stepped forward and cupped Paul’s face, guiding his gaze toward the setup she’d arranged on the bed. Marcus was already there – naked, relaxed, thick cock twitching in anticipation.

“Focus, little brother,” she said, her voice honeyed steel. “Tonight, we go deeper. Amanda’s watching. No excuses.”

She slipped her robe off and straddled Marcus without preamble. His cock slid inside her effortlessly, her moan full and guttural. Paul turned his head, but Sophie snapped her fingers.

“Eyes. Here.”

Amanda giggled on the screen. “She’s right, babe. You can’t learn with your eyes closed.”

Sophie began riding Marcus slow and heavy, the bed creaking under them, her tits bouncing in perfect rhythm.

“Watch how he moves,” she said, voice strained with pleasure. “How deep he goes. Amanda deserves this kind of satisfaction. Don’t you want her to feel everything she needs?”

Paul swallowed. “Y-yeah…”

Amanda, panting lightly, wiped her brow on screen. “You’d be amazed what you can handle when you stop holding back. It’s all about how much you can let in. That’s what openness really is.”

Marcus grunted and grabbed Sophie’s hips, slamming up into her. Sophie let out a scream, her eyes never leaving Paul.

“See that?” she gasped. “That’s what makes a woman feel owned.”

Paul was trembling.

Amanda moaned – quietly, but the timing was unmistakable. “Mmm… I love hearing you both like this. It makes me feel connected. Like we’re all learning something tonight.”

Sophie collapsed forward as Marcus stiffened beneath her, his cock pulsing inside her cunt. She stayed seated on him, squeezing, savoring the heat spreading through her.

Paul looked away, embarrassed. Amanda’s voice chirped brightly: “Did he finish? That’s so hot…”

Sophie smirked, climbing off Marcus, her thighs glossy with his release. “Your turn, Paul,” she said, settling on the edge of the bed and spreading her legs. “Time to clean me up.”

Paul hesitated.

Amanda leaned into frame. “Be brave, babe. I want to be proud of you.”

Paul nodded and lowered himself to Sophie’s cum-filled cunt, the musky scent of Marcus’s orgasm thick in his nose. He gagged, coughed, then gagged again but pressed forward, his tongue tentative.

Amanda adjusted the camera slightly. Behind her, the slow, rhythmic slap of flesh-on-flesh continued, just out of sight. A powerful hand gripped her hip, pulling her tight asshole deeper onto a cock she’d started to crave, even as she whispered sweet encouragement to her husband.

“You’re doing so good,” she cooed. “So open. So giving.”

Sophie groaned, grinding her pussy into Paul’s face. “That’s it. Lap it up. Show her how generous you can be.”

Amanda’s moans deepened. She bit her lip, pretending it was for Paul, but Sophie knew better. The camera picked up the edge of her fingers digging into a strong thigh offscreen.

Paul slurped obediently, choking down every drop.

Sophie smiled into the camera. “He’s learning.”

Amanda beamed. “He really is.”

As the stream faded to black, Amanda let her head fall back, mouth open in a soundless cry as her partner emptied another heavy load deep inside her.

Far away, Paul wiped his face and looked up, waiting for approval.

“Did I do okay?” he asked.

Sophie kissed his forehead. “You’re getting there.”

Amanda, panting and glowing, whispered one last thing before the call ended:

“I’m so proud of you, babe. You’re letting me be who I really am.”

Paul lay on the floor, face covered with Sophie’s wetness, heart pounding in his chest. He was disturbed, confused, and hurt in ways he couldn’t name – but Amanda had smiled at him. That meant everything. That meant he was doing something right.

Two more nights of training had left Paul tired and conflicted, but Amanda’s insistence that he accept Sophie’s instruction kept him coming back all week.

Night three was slower, but no gentler. Sophie focused on Paul’s posture, correcting his breathing and hand placement while forcing him to maintain eye contact with her through each task. She wore a short satin robe, nothing beneath it, and sat with her knees apart, her bare pussy on full display as she coached him in a deliberately clinical tone. Paul tried not to stare, but she used her fingers to open herself wider whenever he faltered. “Focus,” she said. “You should crave learning more than release.”

She had him edge himself multiple times that night while kneeling between her legs, forbidden from touching her, his arousal building as she moaned softly just to test his composure. When he finally asked to stop, Sophie forced him to edge again with his mouth on her thigh, tongue obediently licking just beneath the crease of her cunt.

Night four added a new layer of humiliation. Sophie invited a stranger, a tall, quiet man with a sleeve of tattoos and a thick beard. She didn’t introduce him. She simply stripped and climbed into his lap, riding him lazily on the couch while giving Paul instructions on massage technique. “You’re going to relax me,” she told Paul as the man fucked her. “While he fills me.”

Paul knelt behind her, working her shoulders, his face inches from the back of her head as she moaned and sighed. When she came, she leaned back into Paul, her body shaking, and whispered, “Thank him.”

Paul looked up at the man’s dispassionate face, then back to Sophie. She didn’t repeat herself.

“Thank you,” Paul whispered.

Sophie turned her head to kiss his cheek, then said, “Now clean me up.”

She rolled onto her back and spread her thighs. Paul hesitated, but the stranger just stood and zipped up, offering no reaction at all. Paul lowered himself between her legs and began to lick, his eyes closing as the taste of the man’s cum hit his tongue.

When she came again from his mouth, Sophie let out a shuddering breath and stroked his hair.

“You’re getting better,” she whispered. “But tomorrow, you’ll prove it. Amanda will be watching.”

The fifth night found Paul kneeling on the thick rug, blindfold tight around his head, chest bare, skin flushed. His fingers flexed nervously in his lap as he strained to track the room through sound alone – every footstep, every whispered command was a new test.

Sophie stood above him in heels and silk, perfectly composed. She studied him like a pet undergoing obedience drills. Vulnerable. Submissive. Humiliated already, and the night had barely begun.

Amanda’s FaceTime call was already live – her screen propped against the couch arm. The glow lit Sophie’s thighs faintly, but Paul, sightless, couldn’t see her. Amanda’s voice drifted from the speaker – soft, sultry, already breathy.

“Hi, baby,” she murmured. “You’re doing so good. Are you ready to be brave again tonight?”

Paul nodded, his voice caught in his throat. “Yes. I… I think so.”

Sophie smiled coolly, adjusting the camera just slightly. Behind Amanda, a dark silhouette shifted rhythmically – someone large. The slow rise and fall of Amanda’s bare shoulders was unmistakable.

“Tonight’s lesson,” Sophie said, “is about endurance. Tolerance. Deep contact.”

She straddled the couch and eased herself down onto Marcus’s cock, groaning aloud as the thick head parted her glistening folds. Inch by inch, she lowered herself, moaning when the base of his shaft finally pressed flush against her pussy lips. Her walls clenched around him, savoring the stretch, the fullness that made her toes curl. She rolled her hips in slow, grinding circles, letting him throb inside her, the pressure building between them.

Her hands found Marcus’s chest as she began to ride him in earnest, her slippery thighs clapping down with each bounce. The obscene squelch of their union filled the room, matching the heavy slap of skin. Her tits bounced freely, her hair stuck to her sweaty shoulders.

The camera caught everything – Sophie made sure of it – angling it low enough to show every glistening thrust, every bounce, every stretch of her pussy around Marcus’s thick shaft. Amanda, fucking offscreen, mirrored her rhythm unconsciously – her own moans syncing with Sophie’s with eerie precision.

Sophie beckoned to Paul.

“On your back. Open your mouth. Be useful.”

Paul obeyed, still blindfolded, his mouth trembling as Sophie lowered herself onto his face. The heat of her cunt soaked his lips immediately, her folds slick and swollen, the taste sharp and primal. She was already dripping from the arousal of being watched and worshiped, her inner walls fluttering with every heartbeat.

As her weight settled, her pussy spread wide over his mouth, pressing hot and unrelenting against his lips. Her clit brushed his nose, engorged and demanding, as if daring him to disappoint her. Soon, she would be drenched in more than just lust – she would be overflowing.

Marcus started slow, rising beneath her, his cock sliding into Sophie with practiced power. Each thick inch forced her walls to yield, making her gasp with pleasure. His balls thumped heavily against Paul’s forehead, the rhythm deliberate and inescapable.

With every grind, Sophie moaned louder, bracing against the couch, her body trembling as she bore down harder on Paul’s mouth, letting her cunt smear across his tongue. The weight of Marcus’s cock inside her, combined with Paul’s reluctant worship beneath her, sent an intoxicating thrill through her core.

“You feel that?” she whispered, half to Amanda, half to herself. “Real men fuck with purpose. They leave something behind.”

Amanda’s voice purred through the speaker. “Mmm… I know. You’ve both taught me so much.”

Marcus’s rhythm increased. His thrusts grew sharper. Paul whimpered beneath Sophie, the wet slaps of their bodies echoing against his skin. Her slickness covered his lips, his chin, his cheeks – then, with a sharp shift, Marcus slammed upward, burying himself deep.

Paul’s nose pressed flush against Sophie’s mound, her folds smearing her heat across his face, but the angle now brought Marcus’s heavy cock right against his lips more than once. As Sophie bounced down on his face, Marcus’s cock bulged obscenely beneath her, thick veins sliding against Paul’s cheeks, his lips brushing the fleshy, pulsing underside.

Amanda gave a sharp, involuntary gasp – barely audible, but unmistakably aroused.

The tip nudged against the corner of Paul’s mouth more than once – hot, swollen, unmistakable. One jolt forced the head to bump squarely against his lips, leaving a smear of pre-cum in its wake.

Amanda moaned softly under her breath, the sound clipped like she was trying not to let it escape.

Paul flinched, stomach knotting, but Sophie’s voice rang sharp and commanding.

“Lick. All of it. Don’t stop, even if you feel something new.”

Paul whimpered again, his cheeks burning with shame, but he obeyed. His tongue flicked between Sophie’s folds, struggling to stay focused as Marcus’s thick shaft kept brushing across his lips. With each thrust, the swollen cockhead smeared semen across Paul’s mouth, occasionally pushing against his chin or slipping momentarily past his lips.

A shaky exhale crackled through the speaker – Amanda again, her breath catching as if on the edge of release.

The heat, the weight, the musky scent – it overwhelmed him. Sophie’s fingers tangled in his hair, yanking hard enough to make him gasp, pressing him deeper.

“Feel that?” she growled. “That’s what your wife aches for. That’s what she needs filling her every night.”

Amanda whimpered then – a soft, breathy cry that seemed torn from her throat involuntarily, her voice flushed with hunger.

Paul’s tongue worked frantically now, desperate to satisfy, to drown out the shame flooding his chest. Sophie’s pussy pulsed against his mouth, her body quivering with anticipation and satisfaction. Marcus’s cock pressed and dragged along Paul’s lips with each thrust, the girthy meat bouncing across his chin, smearing heat and musk with every pass. Occasionally, the swollen tip forced its way between Paul’s parted lips – just enough to taste the salt, the flesh, the primal edge of his submission.

Amanda moaned again, louder now, and there was no mistaking it – she was close, and the source of her arousal was unmistakable.

Sophie ground harder against his mouth, hips rolling in rhythm with Marcus’s savage pace, each movement rubbing her engorged clit against Paul’s nose while his lips remained helplessly exposed to the heat and weight of another man’s cock. His humiliation was complete – and her pleasure, overwhelming.

“That’s it,” she hissed. “You’re learning. You’re being useful. Amanda will be so proud.”

Marcus groaned – louder now, feral – and Sophie threw her head back with a cry.

Amanda’s voice shivered through the speaker, thick with impending release: “Oh my god…”

And then – Marcus came.

A guttural snarl ripped from Marcus’s throat as his cock pulsed violently, erupting in thick, forceful ropes of spunk that blasted into Sophie’s quivering pussy. The sheer volume overwhelmed her immediately – hot, creamy jets flooded her, splashing out in obscene gushes that poured over Paul’s waiting mouth and chin.

The first wave struck with such pressure that Sophie gasped, hips jerking forward as Paul choked on the initial flood. More followed – dense spurts that coated his tongue, filled his mouth, spilled from the corners of his lips. One particularly savage thrust rammed the last powerful spurt directly across Paul’s lips and nose, forcing his mouth open wider, his body trembling as the salty heat clung to his face and dribbled down his throat.

Amanda cried out as she came – a high, strained sound that cracked through the speaker. Her body bucked slightly out of frame, a quick blur of motion and quivering flesh as she rode her orgasm through clenched thighs and a tightly held breath. Her hand slapped against her desk or the bed – it wasn’t clear – followed by a half-choked gasp that bled into a moan. When she spoke again, her voice was broken glass softened by honey.

“That was… oh god… perfect. You’re such a good student.”

Sophie moaned loudly. “Drink it. Every drop. This is what Amanda needs you to be.”

On the screen, Amanda’s bare shoulders heaved with the aftershocks, her expression slack and dazed, a blissful haze softening her flushed features. Then her body resumed rocking slightly, just out of view – rising and falling as she bounced on a cock that didn’t belong to Paul.

Her fingers played across her clit, firm and flushed, as she pressed a trembling finger to her lips and bit down, suppressing a squeal. Her eyes were glassy with arousal, her thighs visibly twitching as she leaned forward just enough to give Sophie and Marcus a full view of her breasts swaying with each thrust behind the frame. Her mouth formed a silent “oh” as her second orgasm neared, blushing brightly, her face a mix of guilt and hunger.

“You’re being so brave, babe. Sophie and Marcus don’t have barriers. And you always said… real connection happens when you let people in, right?”

Paul whimpered into Sophie’s pussy, his humiliation thick and burning.

Sophie ground her hips in tight, relentless circles, grinding her sopping lips into Paul’s face, forcing the last thick ropes of Marcus’s cum to spill from her gaping pussy and drip directly onto his eager tongue. The warmth spread across his lips and chin as she pressed herself flush, smothering him beneath her heat and wetness.

Her own orgasm hit in waves – sharp, wet, cruel – rolling through her as she rode his mouth with abandon, her thighs quaking, her breath ragged. She moaned deeply, spine arching as she held Paul’s face in place, grinding through the aftershocks, using him like a toy designed for her pleasure.

She climbed off slowly, her thighs streaked with white. She sat on the couch’s edge, spread open, watching Paul wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

Amanda’s voice was quiet now. Dreamy. “That made me so wet. You’re learning so much, babe.”

Paul didn’t respond. He just nodded.

Sophie leaned forward, her tone low and final. “Same time tomorrow. No excuses.”

Then, to Amanda: “Tomorrow, he’s going to thank every man personally.”

Amanda giggled. “I can’t wait.”

As the screen faded to black, Paul slumped on the floor, exhausted and broken – his face dripping with cum, his chest hollow with something he couldn’t name. But he had made Amanda proud.

And Sophie? She was only just getting started.

---

A brief and fitful night of sleep left Paul almost delirious from exhaustion, his body aching and his mind whirling in shame and arousal. The day passed in a haze and Paul suddenly found himself laying flat on his back on the hardwood floor of Sophie’s loft, his arms stretched out, eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling. He was already panting in nervous anticipation, his face flushed with heat and humiliation. Around him, five men stood ready – already stripped, already hard, their cocks glistening in the low light. Marcus leaned casually against the wall, watching. He would go last, as always.

Sophie paced slowly in front of them, wearing nothing but a silk robe that clung to her hips, already parted to expose the glistening lips of her cunt. She radiated power – every inch of her body shining with arousal and command. She held up a hand.

“Paul,” she said calmly. “Introduce yourself.”

He blinked, struggling to speak. “I… I’m Paul. Amanda’s husband.”

“Good,” Sophie purred. “And what are you here to do tonight?”

“Clean you,” he whispered. “Serve you.”

“Louder.”

“I’m here to serve. To clean your holes after you’ve been used.”

She smiled. “Perfect. Let’s begin.”

Each man took his turn with Sophie. The first was tall, thick-bodied, and relentless. He bent Sophie roughly over the arm of the couch and grabbed two handfuls of her hair, yanking her head back as he thrust forward. His hips slapped against her ass with such force the whole couch rocked, every smack loud and wet. His cock was long and brutal – forcing Sophie to brace herself on trembling arms as she gasped with each punishing stroke.

Her moans pitched upward, breathless, as he pistoned into her, the veiny monster carving through her slick heat, forcing wet squelches from her cunt with every savage thrust. She gasped and yelped, her hips rocking back on instinct, trying to take more of him, her thighs quaking as his cock bottomed out again and again with animalistic power. A hand came down on her ass in a punishing slap, leaving a print that bloomed dark and hot.

When he finally came, it was with a roar – his entire body slamming against her one last time, cock twitching deep inside her, flooding her already soaking cunt with the first massive load. Sophie shuddered, grinding back to keep it inside. Paul knelt beside them, watching every thrust, lips trembling.

“Thank him,” Sophie said.

Paul swallowed. “Thank you for using her.”

The second was leaner, meaner, and far more vocal – his words sharp and cruel as he seized Sophie’s ankles and yanked them wide, exposing her sloppy, cum-glossed cunt. He ran two fingers up her slit and sneered, “This greedy little hole already missed me, didn’t it?” He slapped her pussy hard, the crack echoing through the room. Sophie gasped, her back arching.

He lined up and drove his cock in with a single brutal thrust, making Sophie cry out. Her hips bucked, involuntary, as he immediately began hammering her with fast, savage strokes. “You like this, don’t you? Getting used, stretched, ruined by strangers?” he growled, his pelvis slapping loudly against her ass with each thrust.

Her breasts bounced with the force of it, and he leaned down to spit in her face, smearing it roughly across her cheek. “Fucking cumrag. You’re dripping for it.”

He leaned in closer, forehead pressed to hers, lips curled in a snarl. “You’re nothing but a hole tonight. A cum-dump for whoever shows up.” Sophie moaned shamelessly, her hands clutching at the table edge, her body slick and trembling. When he came, it was fast and messy – his cock pulsing deep inside her as he held her hips in place, forcing her to take every spurt. She whined, her pussy clenching helplessly around the thick rush of his seed.

He slapped her tits, spit on her face, and leaned in until their foreheads touched. “You’re nothing but a hole tonight.” When he came, it was sharp and fast – his cock pulsing inside her as he groaned, holding her down so she couldn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” Paul said again, voice cracking.

The third was rough. He pulled Sophie into a reverse cowgirl position over his lap on the couch, then slammed her down hard, his cock disappearing inside her with a wet, echoing pop that made her eyes fly open. “Ride it. Show him how far you’ll go.”

Sophie’s feet planted on the floor, trembling as she bounced – her ass clapping down onto his lap again and again, loud and obscene. Each movement drove more splooge out of her, thick ropes of it oozing around the swollen rod stretching her. Her thighs quivered from the strain, her body jiggling under the force of it, and her moans grew higher, more frantic, as her clit dragged across his lap with every savage bounce.

She threw her head back and howled when he leaned forward to bite her neck, his hands mauling her tits from behind. Her muscles clenched around him, milking the next load before he could even groan, and she collapsed forward slightly, his cock still twitching inside her.

He reached up, grabbed her hair, yanked her head back and spat directly into her open mouth before biting her shoulder. “You want the next load? You earn it.” Her body convulsed when he came, forcing a high-pitched whine from her lips as she tried to keep it inside.

Paul bowed his head. “Thank you.”

The fourth man was slow and cruel. Methodical. He took his time opening her up again with two thick fingers, then three, watching her stretch and tremble. Sophie whimpered, her voice a breathy gasp, face flushed and eyes unfocused, ass clenching as if trying to hold on to some semblance of control. He spread her open wider with each pass, lingering with his fingers inside her until she was dripping anew. Then, with a low grunt, he finally pressed the flared head of his cock against her entrance and began to sink inch after aching inch into her swollen, overstretched cunt.

The stretch was relentless – his girth wider than the others, his cock dragging every nerve ending raw as it claimed space inside her used, soaked body. Sophie whimpered again, more desperate now, her hips twitching involuntarily with each centimeter deeper he filled her. Her legs splayed wider to accommodate, thighs trembling, as his cock buried itself completely to the root, eliciting a deep moan that echoed off the walls.

Each thrust was deep, dragging across her sore inner walls like he wanted to carve his name inside her. Sophie’s moans melted into gasps, her legs shaking from overuse. He whispered in her ear, “You’re full, but you’ve still got room for me.” When he finally erupted, she flinched – but didn’t pull away.

Sophie turned to Paul, her face flushed. “Get ready.”

Marcus stepped forward last. He didn’t say a word. Marcus didn’t even pretend to be gentle. He grabbed Sophie by the hair and shoved her forward over the arm of the couch, forcing her to brace herself on trembling elbows. He spit once, wet and thick, letting it drip between the cheeks of her ass. The glob landed squarely on her twitching hole and he smeared it with two fingers, deliberately teasing the entrance before lining himself up. The fat head of his cock throbbed against her ring, massive and unyielding.

With a deep, guttural growl, Marcus pressed forward – no warning, no easing in – just raw force as he rammed into her ass in one brutal thrust. Sophie’s scream tore from her throat, high and broken, her entire body jerking from the sudden, vicious stretch. Her ass stretched wide to accommodate the violent intrusion, his big dick punching deep inside her bowels, forcing the breath from her lungs. She shook violently, fingers clawing at the cushions, as Marcus ground deeper, burying himself to the hilt.

Her vision swam as her asshole clenched desperately around his cock, her body reacting in shock and overstimulation. Every nerve lit up, burning with violation and a sharp, overwhelming fullness. Marcus grabbed her hips with bruising force and began to pound, each thrust driving her forward, her body bouncing helplessly with every collision. He didn’t slow down, didn’t give her a second to adjust – he was claiming her, dominating her, filling her with cock until she couldn’t think.

Sophie gasped, moaned, sobbed – her mind blanked by the intensity, her ass stuffed and raw. Every wet slap of skin against skin echoed obscenely, her cheeks jiggling under the assault, and her cunt leaking the previous men’s loads with each thrust. This wasn’t sex – it was obliteration.

He gripped her hips with brute force, driving in harder and deeper, each thrust shoving her body forward as if trying to break her in two. Sweat poured down his muscled chest, dripping onto her back as his tempo became frenzied. Sophie sobbed, her eyes wide and unfocused, mouth agape in a silent scream as she was pounded past reason.

Her hole stretched around him, gaping and raw, twitching as he bottomed out again and again.

When he came, it was a violent, hot eruption – his cock throbbing with each pulse, her asshole distending around the thick intrusion. He flooded her bowels in waves, thick jets forcing her open, until his seed leaked from her ruined hole in thick, oozing strands. He pulled free with a wet pop, a final splash of cum dripping from her trembling, gaping ass.

Then she stood.

She didn’t towel off. She didn’t clean a drop.

She stepped slowly over to Paul, straddling his face and sinking down full weight on his mouth. Her thighs enveloped him. Her pussy leaked a dozen thick strands of jizz, sticky and sweet and reeking of sex. Her ass, still twitching from Marcus’s brutal fuck, joined the flow. Paul gasped – but Sophie settled her hips down firmly, sealing his mouth against her soaked holes.

“Clean it all,” she said, grinding into his face with renewed purpose. “Show me everything you’ve learned this week. Every inch. Every drop. You take what they left behind. You make it part of you. You hold space for what Amanda needs. You keep her open – because you’ve been broken open first.”

She rocked slowly, dragging the mix of six loads across Paul’s face. His nose, his lips, even his cheeks were soon covered with sperm. He licked, his gorge rising again, but he kept going. He swallowed. Again. And again. Sophie’s weight bore down fully, the plush heat of her cunt sealing to his face like a mask. She shifted slightly to direct the gush from her ass down his chin, letting the runoff trail onto his neck and chest.

Her voice dropped. “That’s it. You’re breathing it now. Wearing it. This is the part of her world you never wanted to see, but it’s yours to carry.”

Marcus let out a low, satisfied laugh from the couch. “She’s leaking from both holes,” he said. “Better get your tongue in there. Start with that ass – get it deep. You want to make sure she’s empty before you call it clean.”

Paul whimpered into Sophie’s folds, obeying, his mouth slimy and flooded. As Marcus’s cum trickled down from Sophie’s overstretched ass, Sophie reached behind herself and pulled her cheeks wider, exposing the puckered, twitching opening. “Get in there,” she growled.

Paul’s tongue hesitated – then pushed forward. The first contact was intense, thick with heat and salt. He pressed in deeper, the taste foul, the texture yielding and wet. Marcus’s sludge oozed out slowly around his tongue as he worked, his nose flattened against the slippery curve of Sophie’s backside.

“That’s it,” Sophie moaned. “Deeper. Clean what he left inside. Every drop.”

Paul’s tongue trembled as it curled and slid inside her, the stretch unfamiliar. Sophie rocked back into his face, moaning low and guttural as his tongue reached deeper, swabbing her inner rim. The wet sounds echoed in the room, lewd and unmistakable. Cum bubbled out around his lips as he licked and swallowed, tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

After long minutes, she shifted forward, dragging her soaked pussy across his face until it pressed back against his mouth. “Now finish the rest,” she ordered, breath catching. “You clean every last spurt from my cunt – like you love it. Like it’s the only way you get to taste what Amanda’s really made of.”

Sophie moaned suddenly – sharp, guttural, and unmistakably intense. Her thighs clamped around Paul’s face like a steel trap, sealing him in darkness, his nose flattened, his mouth buried. The muscles in her calves and ass clenched hard, trembling from the force of her orgasm. Her hips began to grind harder, slower, deliberately smearing the flood of thick, hot man milk deeper across Paul’s helpless mouth, pushing more into his open lips, his cheeks, his tongue.

Her orgasm pulsed through her in waves, drawn out by the relentless friction of Paul’s tongue – trained now, obedient, drenched in filth – and the hot humiliation of forcing her brother to swallow the entire vile harvest of her cunt and ass. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving red lines of dominance as she shuddered violently, her cunt twitching and leaking more with each pulse. Paul gagged once under the pressure, barely able to breathe, but Sophie didn’t let up.

The scent of sex – acrid, heavy, undeniable – hung in the air around them, thick enough to taste. She could feel Paul trembling beneath her, his tongue still working, broken but dutiful. The final shudder of release made her collapse slightly forward, pinning his face with all her weight, sealing the moment as permanent.

“Fuck yes,” she groaned, her breath ragged. “You feel that? That’s what happens when you finally learn your place.”

She gave a breathless laugh and pressed down harder, grinding her slick, overflowing cunt against his face with deliberate cruelty. “That’s it,” she hissed, voice thick with arousal and triumph. “I’m fucking dripping with their cum, and now it’s yours too. Breathe it in. Lick every drop. That’s six men inside me – and now inside you. Don’t you dare waste a single filthy spurt, little brother. It’s all for you. You earned every goddamn mouthful.”

She sighed, her tone affectionate. “That’s my good little brother. Look how much you can take.”

She took a picture on her phone – Paul’s face glistening, eyes closed, his expression caught between horror and surrender. His tongue still extended as her gaping spunk-filled holes ground against it.

She sent it to Amanda.

Amanda replied with a single emoji: ❤️

Sophie leaned down, whispering into Paul’s ear.

“Now you’re not just her husband. You’re her foundation. You keep her open, Paul. You hold space – for all of it.”

---

A few days after Paul had begun his “training” with Sophie, Amanda found herself back in the familiar comfort of Sophie’s loft, recounting one of Paul’s more hesitant attempts at the “intimacy exercises” Sophie had prescribed for him.

“He’s trying,” Amanda said, a fond frustration in her voice. “But sometimes… I think he feels a little lost in all of this. Like he’s worried he can’t keep up with how much I’m… growing.”

Sophie, perched elegantly with her wine, nodded with thoughtful sympathy. “That’s understandable, sweetie. Paul’s world has always been… simpler. More contained. Your journey into this deeper openness is vast. He needs to know he still has a vital role, that he’s not being left behind.”

“But what role is that, if he can’t…” Amanda trailed off, a blush creeping up her neck.

“He’s your foundation, Amanda,” Sophie said, her voice warm and reassuring. “He’s the steady place you return to. Think of him as your anchor.” She smiled. “It’s a beautiful image, isn’t it? No matter how far the tides of experience pull you, or how wild the storms of passion get, your anchor holds you safe, allows you to explore knowing you can always come back to that steadfast point.”

Amanda considered this, her expression softening. “My anchor… I like that. It sounds… strong. Secure.”

“Exactly,” Sophie purred. “And he needs to hear it from you. Frame it positively. Tell him that his steadfastness, his unwavering love, is what allows you to be so brave, so open out in the world. That he’s not holding you back, he’s giving you the security to fly. It will make him feel powerful, essential. Like he’s the very reason you can embrace all these new, expansive parts of yourself.”

Amanda’s eyes lit up. “You think that would help him understand?”

“I know it will,” Sophie said, squeezing her hand. “He needs to feel like he’s part of your strength, not a limitation to it. Call him your anchor, darling. He’ll love it.”

And Amanda, eager to reassure Paul and reinforce his importance in her ever-expanding world, tucked the metaphor away, ready to deploy it with all the love and sincerity she felt.