The Other Side of the Bed

The music pulsed too loud, the apartment thick with heat, but I wasn't about to move—not while my wife Raghda and her sister Bushra were tangled together on the couch, Raghda grinding against her as their tongues slid together in slow, filthy strokes. Bushra's hand disappeared under Raghda's skirt, her fingers working in a rhythm that made my wife gasp against her mouth. I knew I shouldn't be staring—but fuck, the way Bushra's fingers moved beneath the fabric, the way Raghda arched into her touch—my cock was already hard just standing there. Then Bushra's dark eyes snapped open, meeting mine over Raghda's shoulder. Her lips curled against Raghda's skin. "Just watching, habibi?" Raghda turned, lips swollen, her breath ragged. "Or are you finally joining us?" I didn't make them ask twice. I was on them in three strides, grabbing Raghda's face as I kissed her hard enough to taste the wine on her tongue. Bushra's free hand hooked my hip, dragging me onto the couch beside them. Raghda's moan vibrated against my lips as Bushra bit her neck, her fingers still working between my wife's thighs. The air smelled of jasmine oil and sex. Bushra's other hand slid up my thigh, her nails scraping just shy of where I needed them. I knew then—no one was leaving this room unsatisfied tonight.

Bushra’s nails dug into my thigh as she pulled me closer, her breath hot against my ear. “So eager,” she murmured, her teeth grazing my earlobe. “But you’re still wearing too much.” Raghda’s laugh was low, breathless, as she tugged at the hem of my shirt. “He always does.” Her fingers slipped beneath the fabric, skimming my stomach before she yanked it over my head in one swift move. Bushra’s hand found my zipper next, her fingers toying with the metal tab. “And these?” She dragged the zipper down slowly, her knuckles brushing the hard line of my cock through the fabric. I groaned, grabbing her wrist to stop her teasing. “You two are gonna kill me.” Raghda nipped at my collarbone, her other hand slipping between Bushra’s thighs with a smirk. “Not yet.” Bushra arched into Raghda’s touch, her grip tightening on my waist. “Fuck—both of you—” Raghda’s reply was a whisper against my skin. “Exactly.”

Bushra’s breath hitched as Raghda’s fingers pressed deeper, her back arching off the couch. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, her nails raking down my chest. I caught her wrist, pinning it to the cushion as I leaned down to lick a hot stripe up her throat. “You first.” Raghda smirked, her free hand sliding between my legs to palm me through my open fly. “He’s got a point.” She squeezed, her thumb tracing the swollen head—enough to make my hips jerk. Bushra bucked against Raghda’s hand, her legs parting wider. “You’re both fucking cruel,” she panted, her thighs trembling. I nipped at her jaw. “Says the woman who was teasing me two minutes ago.” Raghda’s laugh was dark as she twisted her wrist just right, drawing a broken moan from Bushra. “Look at her—so close already.” Bushra’s grip on my hair tightened. “Don’t you dare slow down—” Raghda leaned in, her lips brushing mine. “Or what?”