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By *ikeEx OP Man 15 weeks ago
Near Alfreton, Derbyshire |
Decided to go into the unkown for this story...
Mike had Given Candy the cheap projector over a year ago, yet it remained in it's box - until now, she didn't know where to put the screen, until she cleared a wall in the living room.
Finally, the screen was bare and ready to have a movie projected on it - "about time" she thought.
The projector hummed a soft, steady rhythm against Candy’s apartment wall. The screen, a vast expanse of white eight feet wide, awaited its story. She settled onto the sofa, laptop balanced on her knees, the familiar, low-grade ache in her hips a dull companion after a long day of travel. A wince tightened her jaw for a fleeting moment before she smoothed it away, her focus shifting to the search bar.
Documentaries, dramas, recycled sitcoms—none of them held any appeal. A playful smirk touched her lips. Who needed a story when she could have reality, or something close enough to it? She navigated with a few practiced clicks, logging into a familiar members-only site. Her thumb scrolled past polished, professional productions, seeking the raw, unfiltered authenticity of amateur uploads. That’s where the real heat was.
She found it in a video tagged 'Spain.' The thumbnail promised exactly what she craved: a couple, tangled together on rumpled white sheets, their bodies slick with sweat, the afternoon light filtering through a shuttered window painting golden stripes across their skin. The heat hit her immediately—not just the Spanish sun, but the visceral, undeniable chemistry between them.
The video began. The man, dark-haired and lean, had his face buried between the woman's thighs. She was all soft curves and sun-kissed skin, her back arched, fingers twisting in the sheets. The sounds she made were raw, unscripted, punctuated by the wet, hungry rhythm of his mouth. Candy shifted on the sofa, a familiar warmth beginning to bloom low in her belly, the discomfort in her hips momentarily forgotten. This was good. This was real.
The scene shifted. The woman pushed him onto his back, straddling him with a confident roll of her hips. She sank down onto his cock, a gasp escaping her lips as she took him to the hilt. The camera, held by the man himself, captured the intoxicating bounce of her breasts, the flush spreading down her chest. It was a visceral, close-up view of pure, unadulterated fucking. They were filthy, their words a mix of Spanish and English, a stream of praise and profanity that made Candy’s own breath hitch. He pulled out, painting her stomach and breasts with thick, white ropes of cum before she took him back in her mouth, cleaning him with slow, deliberate strokes.
Then it was her turn to gush. He worked her with his fingers, a relentless, practiced rhythm, until she broke, a clear stream of liquid erupting from her, soaking the sheets beneath her. The camera shook with the force of it. The scene was meant to end there. Most clips on the site had a strict one-minute limit.
But it didn't.
The video kept playing. The woman, still trembling from her orgasm, looked directly into the lens, her eyes dark and knowing. Her lips, swollen and slick, curved into a sly smile.
"Come and join us," she purred, her voice a low, honeyed invitation. She crooked a finger, a gesture that seemed to pull at the very fabric of the screen.
The man leaned in beside her, his own gaze heavy with want. "Sí," he rumbled. "We want you."
The image stuttered, then seemed to stretch. The room on the screen warped, the lines of the Spanish bedroom blurring at the edges, beckoning her inward. Candy’s brows drew together. A glitch? A new interactive feature she didn't know about? Intrigued and more than a little amused, she paused the feed. A cold drink seemed like a good idea.
She padded into the kitchen, the tiles cool beneath her bare feet. The familiar clink of ice in a glass, the glug of water from the filter jug. When she returned, the projector was still casting its light onto the wall, the frozen image of the couple on the screen waiting patiently.
On her way back to her seat, her fingers trailed along the smooth, cool surface of the wall, right where the projected image met the plaster. A strange tingling sensation shot up her arm, not unpleasant, but startlingly intense.
The world dissolved.
The sudden warmth of the Spanish sun on her skin, the scent of salt and sex in the air, the faint, distant sound of waves. Candy blinked. She was no longer in her apartment. She was standing on cool, tiled floors, looking at the very same rumpled bed, the very same couple, now in vibrant, three-dimensional reality. They were looking right at her, their smiles widening.
"We've been waiting for you," the woman said, her voice even more mesmerizing in person. She patted the empty space on the bed between them. "Don't be shy."
Candy’s initial shock melted away, replaced by a surge of confident, liquid heat. This was impossible, but her body didn't care. It only cared about the invitation, the raw, unapologetic desire in their eyes. She moved towards the bed, shedding her own simple clothes as she went, her movements fluid and sure.
The woman, whose name she learned was Elena, reached for her first, pulling her down into a kiss that tasted of wine and shared secrets. Their tongues met, a slow, sensual dance. Elena’s hands were everywhere, tracing the lines of Candy's back, her fingers lingering over the geometric patterns of her tattoo. The man, Mateo, watched them for a moment, his dark eyes gleaming, before he moved behind Candy, his strong hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her already-hard nipples.
The air was thick with anticipation. Candy broke the kiss with Elena, turning her head to capture Mateo’s lips. He was all fire and spice, a stark, delicious contrast to Elena's sweetness. While they kissed, Elena’s hands roamed lower, her fingers finding the slick heat between Candy's thighs.
"You are so wet," Elena murmured against Candy's neck, her voice a ticklish vibration. "So ready for us."
Candy could only gasp as Elena’s expert fingers circled her clit, Mateo's hands squeezing her breasts. The trio collapsed onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and searching mouths. Candy found herself on her back, Elena nestled between her legs, her tongue a magic wand against Candy's aching core. Mateo knelt beside her head, and Candy eagerly took his hard, thick cock into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head, tasting the lingering salt of Elena's juices.
The pleasure was overwhelming, a symphony of sensations. Elena’s tongue delved deep, fucking her with a steady rhythm, while her thumb rubbed Candy's clit in maddening circles. The pressure built, a tidal wave rising inside her. She moaned around Mateo's shaft, the vibrations making him groan in response.
"Let go, hermosa," Elena urged, her words muffled by Candy's flesh. "Give it to us."
And she did. With a str6ngled cry, Candy's orgasm ripped through her, a powerful gush of fluid that soaked Elena's face and the sheets beneath her. Her body convulsed with the force of it, her hips bucking wildly. As she came down from the high, her body trembling, she felt a new hunger rising.
She wanted more. She wanted everything.
Pulling Elena up for a deep, wet kiss, she tasted her own cum on the other woman's lips. "My turn," she growled, her voice husky with desire.
She flipped their positions, her mouth finding Elena's dripping pussy. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, a musky, sweet perfume. Candy explored her with her tongue, her fingers, learning every curve, every sensitive spot. She slid two fingers inside, curling them to find that spongy, secret place that made Elena gasp and clutch at the sheets. Mateo watched them, stroking himself slowly, his eyes dark with lust.
Then, he moved. He knelt behind Candy, aligning his cock with her dripping entrance. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. Candy cried out, the sensation of being filled so completely while her face was buried in Elena's pussy pushing her to a new level of arousal.
They moved together, a perfect, primal rhythm. Mateo's hips snapped forward, driving into Candy, who in turn drove her fingers deeper into Elena. The room was filled with the sounds of their fucking: the slap of skin on skin, the wet sounds of mouths and fingers, their mingled cries of pleasure.
Elena came first, her body arching off the bed, a stream of her own cum gushing into Candy's eager mouth. Candy drank her down, the taste a heady aphrodisiac. Then Mateo's thrusts became erratic, his grip on Candy's hips tightening.
"Where?" he gritted out, his control fraying.
"Inside me," Candy begged, her voice raw. "Fill me up."
With a final, brutal thrust, he obliged. She felt the hot rush of his cum flooding her, a satisfying warmth that sent another, smaller orgasm rippling through her. They collapsed in a heap of sweaty, sated limbs, the three of them a tangled mess of satisfaction.
For a long moment, nobody spoke. They just breathed, the air heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. Then, Elena began to laugh, a low, throaty chuckle. Candy joined in, the sound bubbling up from her chest, a feeling of pure, unadulterated joy coursing through her.
This was impossible. This was insane. And it was the most real thing she had ever felt.
.
.
.
A jolt. A gasp.
Candy’s eyes flew open.
The familiar, muted light of her own apartment. The hum of the projector. The stiff, empty sofa beneath her. The screen on the wall was blank, the laptop on her lap asleep.
Her breath was still coming in ragged pants. A deep, lingering throb of pleasure pulsed between her legs. She looked down. Her hand was tucked into her sleep shorts, her fingers still pressed against the slick, sensitive flesh of her clit.
A dream. It had all been a dream.
The phantom scent of salt and sex was fading, replaced by the clean, neutral smell of her own living room. She could still feel the ghost of Mateo's hands on her hips, the lingering taste of Elena on her tongue, but why was her pussy so full deep inside and dripping? |
