First Touches

The bathroom door hissed softly with steam behind them.

Andrea stood close now, her body turned in just slightly — not touching him, but near enough that the heat of her skin whispered across the space between. Her eyes lingered on his, steady and sharp. Not shy. Not uncertain.

She tilted her head. “You’ve been quiet all night. But you’ve been looking at us. Hard.”

He said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Andrea’s smile turned inward, almost pleased. Her fingers brushed his sleeve again, then smoothed along his arm — slow, deliberate, like she was testing something. Her nails were short, manicured. Her touch barely there.

“I saw you staring at her legs,” she murmured. “When she crossed them at the bar.”

Still, no response. The room was silent, except for the soft rush of water behind the bathroom door. The city lights painted Andrea’s skin in cold, silver lines. Her skirt barely covered the swell of her ass, and up close he could see how her blouse was undone just slightly, revealing a sliver of lace.

“Mine too,” she added. “You looked.”

He nodded once. Controlled. But his breathing gave him away.

Andrea’s fingers rose to his collar. “You like office girls, don’t you?”

She was so close now, her lips near his ear. Her voice was velvet. “Pretty, professional. Sweet on the outside. Dirty when no one’s watching.”

Then, she kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It was bold — her mouth pressing into his like a challenge. Her tongue flicked across his lips before he could even respond. He didn’t need more prompting. His hand slid to her waist, gripping her just hard enough to make her gasp, and he kissed her back. Deep, hungry. Like he’d been waiting all night for it.

Andrea moaned against his mouth and pushed forward, their bodies colliding in the heat they’d both pretended not to feel for hours. His other hand found her thigh, her skin hot and smooth under the hem of her skirt. She broke the kiss, breathless, and let her head fall back as his lips moved to her neck.

“Mmm…” she breathed, her fingers slipping into his hair. “You’ve wanted to do this all night, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer. He just pushed her gently back toward the window, until her hips met the glass. Her skirt rode up as she leaned, legs parting just enough. The lights of Kuala Lumpur shimmered behind her. Her breath fogged the windowpane.

Andrea’s hands went to his belt, fast, practiced. She kissed him again, messier this time, her teeth grazing his lower lip as she pulled it open.

Then came the click of the bathroom door.

They froze — but only for a moment.

Esther stepped out, wrapped in a white towel, her cheeks flushed pink from the steam. She stopped mid-step, her eyes locking onto them — Andrea half-undressed, her skirt hiked, him standing over her, shirt undone and breath heavy.

Silence stretched.

Esther didn’t move. Her lips parted slightly. Her eyes dropped to Andrea’s blouse, then down to where his hand still gripped her thigh.

No one spoke.

Then Esther stepped forward.

She dropped the towel.

The soft thud of it hitting the carpet felt louder than it should have. Esther stood naked, her body pale and perfect under the room’s dim lighting. She wasn’t hiding — not with her shoulders back and chin lifted. But there was a flicker in her eyes. Not fear. Not shame.

Permission.

Andrea glanced back at him and smiled — slow, victorious.

“She always wanted to be caught,” she whispered.

Esther moved toward them. The air shifted.

Andrea stepped aside slightly, brushing Esther’s arm as she passed. No words were spoken. Just hands — Esther’s reaching for him, fingers light as she touched his chest, as if learning the shape of him. He kissed her, softer than he had kissed Andrea, tasting the warmth of her mouth, the hint of mint and heat from her shower. Esther moaned, pressing against him, her body already trembling slightly.

He stepped back to sit on the edge of the bed, and they followed without needing direction.

Andrea knelt first, unbuttoning his shirt slowly — kissing his chest, his stomach, trailing her tongue downward. Esther followed, kneeling beside her. Two women, side by side in their office makeup, both with flushed cheeks and shining eyes.

He couldn’t look away.

Andrea undid his pants, her movements practiced, teasing. Esther’s hand joined hers, less sure but eager. They pulled him out together, and both of them paused.

Andrea’s eyes lifted, and she smiled.

“Bigger than I expected.”

Esther bit her lip. “So hard already…”

Then, without a word, Andrea leaned in and wrapped her lips around him — slow, savoring the taste. Esther watched, eyes wide with wonder, before following. They kissed each other over him. Took turns. Their tongues met at the tip. Their eyes never left his face.

He groaned — the kind of sound pulled from somewhere deep. His hands tangled in their hair, not pulling, just holding. Their mouths worked together, soft and wet, taking him deeper, pausing to kiss each other again, tongues sliding, smiling.

It was surreal. It was savage.

And it had only just begun.

Andrea stood first, peeling off her blouse with a quick flick of her wrists. No bra. Just smooth skin and dark nipples already tight with arousal. She climbed onto the bed, turning, lowering herself slowly over his lap. Her skirt was still on, but her panties were gone.

She reached between them and guided him in.

No hesitation.

Andrea moaned aloud as she sank down onto him — inch by inch — her hands on his chest, her head tilted back. Esther climbed up beside them, kissing his neck, his jaw, watching Andrea ride. Her fingers slid down to her own thighs, then between them.

“You like watching?” Andrea gasped, grinding her hips in slow circles. “Come closer.”

Esther did.

Their mouths met. Sweet at first. Then hungrier. Esther kissed Andrea like she needed to, like she’d wanted it for years but never dared. Watching them kiss with his cock buried inside one of them — it was a vision he didn’t know how to survive.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled Andrea off and flipped Esther onto her back. She gasped in surprise, then moaned as he entered her in one thrust. She was tight, hot, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. Andrea crawled up beside them, kissing Esther’s cheek, whispering praise while she touched herself.

Esther was loud. She held nothing back — whimpering, moaning, begging him not to stop.

They were so different. And together, they were overwhelming.

He switched between them — fucking one while the other watched, then pulling out and pushing into the next. Sweat glistened on their skin. Their makeup smeared from kisses and moans and messy, desperate pleasure.

Then a phone rang.

Esther froze. Andrea’s eyes widened.

Another ring. Andrea reached for her bag, still panting.

She looked at the screen — then at him.

“My boyfriend,” she whispered.

He didn’t stop moving.

“Answer it.”

Andrea hesitated, then slid her thumb across the screen.

“Hey baby…” she said, her voice shaking as he fucked her from behind. “Yeah, we… we’re still at Pavilion…”

Esther’s phone lit up next.

They both answered their calls.

He didn’t stop.

He fucked them slowly, deeply, while they tried to hold conversations — Andrea biting her lip hard, Esther clutching the sheets, both of them struggling not to cry out. He watched their expressions, their shame, their thrill. It was obscene.

It was perfect.

When he came, he pulled out and stood over them.

Their calls had ended.

Both women looked up at him — lips parted, eyes wide, smeared makeup and perfect submission.

He came across both of their faces — hot, thick lines across their lips, their cheeks, their lashes.

Neither moved.

Then Andrea turned to Esther, smiling through the mess, and kissed her deeply. Their tongues slid together, slowly. Deliberately.

He watched them lick each other clean.