A couple invited te for a Threesome and I said yes

The café was slow, just me and the usual hum of the espresso machine keeping me company. Then they walked in—mid-40s, confident, exchanging glances that screamed trouble in the best way. He was broad-shouldered, salt-and-pepper scruff, with a grin that said he knew exactly how to use his hands. She was all curves, her sundress clinging in ways that made my mouth water.

“Double espresso and a vanilla latte,” he said, his voice smooth like whiskey.

I nodded, already feeling the heat creeping up my neck. “Coming right up.”

But as I turned to the machine, her fingers brushed my wrist. “You’re adorable,” she purred. “How long’s your break?”

I nearly dropped the portafilter. “Uh—depends?”

They exchanged that look again.

He leaned in, voice dropping. “We’ve been watching you. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking. The way your hips sway when you walk.” His thumb traced my knuckles. “We want to play.”

My pulse went wild. “Play?”

She laughed, low and wicked. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what we mean. A pretty thing like you? You thrive on attention.”

I swallowed hard. They weren’t wrong.

Thirty minutes later, I was in their hotel room, my heart pounding as she unbuttoned my blouse with practiced fingers. “God, you’re even prettier up close,” she murmured, her nails scraping lightly over my ribs.

He watched from the bed, already shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned just enough to hint at what was underneath. “Come here,” he ordered, and I went, knees sinking into the plush mattress.

She kissed me first—soft, then demanding, her tongue claiming my mouth like she’d been waiting years for it. I moaned, my hands tangling in her hair as his fingers traced my spine, unhooking my bra with ease.

“Fuck, you’re responsive,” he growled, palming my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until I arched into his touch.

She nipped at my neck, her hands sliding down to unzip my jeans. “Let’s see how wet you really are.”

I gasped as her fingers found me, already soaked. “Jesus—”

“That’s what we wanted,” he muttered, pushing me onto my back. “Look at her, baby. Could eat her up.”

And he did. His mouth was on me in seconds, hot and relentless, his tongue dragging through my folds like he was starving. I writhed, my fingers fisting the sheets as she straddled my face, her thighs framing my vision. “Your turn,” she breathed, grinding down against my mouth.

The taste of her was intoxicating—sweet, musky, perfect. I licked into her, my moans vibrating against her as his tongue circled my clit, pushing me higher, higher—

“Gonna come already?” he teased, sucking hard.

I shattered with a cry, my hips jerking as pleasure ripped through me. She rode my mouth through her own orgasm, her thighs trembling around my ears.

Before I could catch my breath, he flipped me onto my hands and knees, his cock pressing against my entrance. “Ready?”

I nodded, desperate.

He slammed into me, full, no mercy. I cried out, my back arching as she knelt in front of me, capturing my moans with her kiss.

“That’s it, take it,” she whispered, her fingers pinching my nipples. “Such a good girl for us.”

The pace was brutal, his hips pistoning into me as she played with my clit, my body strung tight between them. I came again, screaming into her mouth, my walls clenching around him until he groaned, filling me with hot, sticky pulses.

She kissed my forehead after, her thumb wiping my smudged lipstick. “You’re perfect.”

He collapsed beside me, grinning. “Still think café work is boring?”

I laughed, boneless, ruined. “Definitely not.”

They left me their number. And oh, I’d be using it.