Whitney's mansion has a tea room. That's what the floorplan and the realtor both called it, anyway, although it hardly gets used for tea. It actually hardly gets used for anything, despite being furnished with settees, chairs, rugs, and a small table. You had offered to convert it into a bedroom rather than force Noelle to bunk with someone else, but Noelle was adamant that she wanted to stay in the room she already had -- and then kept interrupting you when you were trying to pitch the idea to Kay. Well, at least Noelle's room has two beds. So they won't have to share.
Maybe it was for the best. It turns out that Vivian actually does appreciate the tea room for its intended use. She's begun using it daily for the taking of tea and crumpets. British expat in spirit, she is. She regularly asks others to join her -- "you are cordially invited to elevenses with me" etc. -- but seldom does anyone take her up on it.
That's why you find it so strange when you get a text from Amber that Saturday morning:
>Come to our tea party, mister!
"Our" implies more than one; and since Vivian is the only person you know who actually drinks the stuff, it's reasonable to figure that Amber actually did take Vivian up on her brunch invitation. A bold choice -- she must want some backup in dealing with Vivian's chuuni self.
You make your way down to the tea room and find... roughly what you expected... and yet it still somehow surprises you.
A lacy white tablecloth lies draped over the round table, and the pale blue china is set out. Vivian, in full GothLoli regalia, parasol and veil and bodice and all, sits at the place of honor, her back to the bay window. She sips tea from a tiny cup, pinky extended, holding the saucer beneath. If where she sits is north on the compass rose described by the table, then at the western point sits Amber, wearing a tanktop and short-shorts; the platonic opposite of Vivian. Whereas Vivian is overdressed, elegant and fragile, Amber looks like she stepped out of the trailer park, her entire bearing low-class yet hale. At the eastern point of the table, sitting propped up on a stack of books in a chair, is a stuffed penguin you know as Johann -- Vivian's since childhood. At the southern point of the table, sitting similarly propped up on books, is a stuffed animal you don't know, a threadbare bunny with fat, floppy ears as long as its body. Just beside the bunny, in a second chair, is a teddy bear wearing an eyepatch -- that obscene thing Amber's classmates used to bully her.
"Hey mister!" Amber says. "Glad you could make it!"
Vivian slowly sets her cup and saucer back down. "Greetings," she says. "Thank you for joining us."
You uncertainly close the door behind you and step towards the table. Jumping up, Amber races to the wall and grabs a chair from along it, then comes back and places it at the table's northwestern side; jammed between her and Vivian.
"Uh, I think I'll sit here," you say, and pick up Johann to move him aside.
Vivian's voice, to the best extent it can, booms deeply: "Unhand me! Cad!"
Then she reaches out and takes Johann from you. She takes a moment to smooth his fur before setting him back atop his little throne of books. "Apologies," she tells the toy, "our guest clearly has a deficit of manners."
"You have got to be joking," you say.
"Gosh mister, that was really mean of you just now," Amber says. "Johann didn't do anything to you. Why do you gotta push him around?"
Shaking your head, you circle the table and sit at your appointed spot. This is where the girls want you, it seems.
"Sorry about mister," Amber tells Vivian, "I didn't think he'd be such a meanie."
"No matter. Do you take sugar?" Vivian asks you, as she pours you a cup from the intricately floral-patterned kettle.
"Sure," you say. You have no idea what the fuck is happening right now.
"One lump or two?"
"Three," Amber answers for you. She leans in with her fingers clutching the lace tablecloth. "He likes things *sweet*. Isn't that right?"
"Yeah," you agree.
Vivian uses a long, dainty spoon to plop one, two, three cubes of sugar into your cup. It might have been a little much for the volume of tea... but Mom's desserts have inured your pancreas to the ravages of diabetic shock. Vivian stirs for you, the spoon's edge scraping audibly against the cup's walls.
"Cream?" She asks.
"Oh, he definitely likes things creamy," Amber says.
Vivian tuts at Amber, but smiles all the same. She takes a small lidded vessel and pours, dispensing half-and-half. The tea turns from dark to pale umber.
You take the cup in hand and blow on the surface of the liquid to cool it. Vivian glances Amber's way and titters a bit, knowingly, like she's in on a joke you aren't. You've never been a tea drinker, or of most any other hot beverage, preferring to get your caffeine fixes from cold sodas or energy drinks. But this stuff isn't too bad, especially sweetened up now as it is, and you slowly sip the sugary slurry. As you swallow, you nod at the stuffed bunny: "Who's that?" (Might as well play along.)
"That's Adolf!" Amber says. She takes the thing in her hands, and holds it up in front of her face. With one of the bunny's long arms, she, uh -- "waves" -- and with a high pitched voice she ventriloquizes: "Hi, Al!"
You grimace. "That's yours?"
Amber lowers Adolf to her lap, unobscuring her face. "Uh huh. I've had him since I was only little. We're friends."
"You named your stuffed rabbit after Hitler?" You say.
Amber gasps. "Wh-what? His name is Adolf! That's a perfectly normal name for a German bunny! It's the 14th most popular name for German bunnies, you know!"
Somehow you sense that she's used this story in the past.
Adolf cuts in, his fluffy butt covering Amber's face again: "Oy vey, what a maroon!"
"I know!" Amber agrees, turning Adolf in her hands to look him in the face.
You grab Adolf roughly between his ears as if palming a basketball, hoist him out of Amber's grip and set him back in his seat. Top-heavy, he falls with his back against the chairback, arms slumping and ears flopping.
"And who's that?" You ask, nodding now at the one-eyed bear.
"That's Plissken," Amber says. She cups her hand to her mouth and adds: "He's mute."
You stare at Plissken, as if you're waiting for a response, and naturally, the bear says nothing. He's mute, after all.
Unbelievably, the girls have poured actual cups of actual tea for these inanimate toys; and now Amber, taking Adolf's cup in hand, pretends to give him a sip. She repeats this process with Plissken. Vivian does it for Johann. You feel like you're in an insane asylum.
"Johann and Adolf have gotten along famously," Vivian avers. "Although hailing from Antarctica, Johann also has German ancestry. The two have much in common..."
"They're both political, as a for-instance!" Amber chimes in.
"Plissken is overcoming his fear of others to socialize, as well," Vivian says. "He is warming up to us, I can tell."
You all look Plissken's way. He stares stoically back.
"Work in progress," Amber says. "Lotta trauma there..."
You roll your eyes and sigh.
Vivian turns to Amber: "How do you know this gentleman?" She asks her of you.
She shrugs. "I met him at my school one day! He seemed like he'd be pretty cool to hang around, but I didn't realize he'd be so *rude* to our other guests." She glares at you.
"How gauche," Vivian says.
"I expect this kind of stuff from Amber," you say, "but from you, Vivian? What's gotten into you?"
As always whenever Vivian acts haughty, her laughter genuinely sounds like "fufufufu~" -- it weirds you out.
You sip your tea a little more and then, setting your cup down, you tug at your collar. "Did you two turn the thermostat up, or what? It's like a fucking oven in here."
Amber, gasping theatrically, cups her palms to Adolf's prodigious ears. "Language!" She shouts. "Language, language, language!!"
"I think you have made a severe misjudgment of character," Vivian tells her. "This man is not an adequate guest for our tea party... no civility whatsoever..." And then, voice lowering to speak in Johann's stead: "I second the motion."
You chuff. "Fine. You two enjoy this weird little... whatever... without me, then." You push your chair away from the table and stand, but you almost collapse with a sudden rush of blood to the head. You brace yourself with a fist pressed to the tabletop. Your extremities tingle and your temples throb, your vision whorls. You blink it back to normal, and steady your shallow breathing. You notice at the same time Amber notices: that you have a massive erection tenting your trousers.
"Oh my gosh, mister!" Amber says. She points at it with a forefinger like a kid might point at a scary but interesting bug on a twig.
Your throat is dry. When you try to speak, only a creaky groan comes out. You smack your lips, swallow hard, and try again: "I... fuck, sorry--"
"Language, language, language!" She's shielding Adolf's delicate ears again. "Geez, you're not a nice mister at all, are you? Cursing like that... and walking around like *that*-- at a little girl's tea party!"
Vivian's smug "fufufu~" comes again, and you give her a hard stare. The jigsaw pieces are starting to click into place inside your mind. "You..." you sputter. "Did you fucking drug me?"
"Now, why would I do that?" Vivian says. She perches her cheek against the back of her hand.
"You did--"
Amber is pushing your chair towards the table now, and the edge of the seat catches the crooks of your knees, and your legs buckle, and gravity slowly tugs you back down against your will. "There we go," Vivian says as she watches on, "sit and collect your bearings. We can afford you at least that much hospitality. Are you feeling all right? Have you become disturbed, somehow, or somehow ill? Are you a mite feverish?"
"You're crazy..." you pant. "You're both -- fucking nuts --"
Even as you say this, you're harder than you've ever been in your life. Your cock is so erect that it causes actual physical distress, makes your eyes water.
All of a sudden now, Vivian is in your lap -- facing you, straddling you. Her knees rest on the edges of the chair on either side of your thighs, the hoop of her dress concealing her butt as well as your lap. Beneath that cover, you can feel her pantied crotch -- it's damp -- pressing down directly on your straining member through your pants.
"What are you doing?" You grunt.
Cooing, Vivian shushes you, and says: "I need to check you for fever." She presses her fingers to your moist forehead, and delivers a prompt verdict: "You're burning up."
"Oh no!" Amber says. Still holding the chairback, she leans around it, pressing her cheek close to yours. She looks her friend in the eye. "It's really that bad?"
Vivian holds your cheeks in both her small hands, the balls of her palms just barely reaching to your chin. "Oh yes, I'm afraid so," she says.
"What should we do?" Amber says. "I know he's kinda weird, but I don't want him to be sick..."
"Hmm," Vivian murmurs. "I am uncertain." She wiggles around in your lap, purposefully grinding against your hardon. You feel the soft cleft of her pussy through the fabric, and an unbelievable heat emanating from it... did she drug herself, too? And Amber as well? Still clasping your face, Vivian gets as close as she can without kissing, and whispers: "What should we do about this, mister?"
The lust grips you and takes over. These fucking horny cunts want to get themselves fucked... you'll fuck them, all right.
You grab Vivian about her waist and spin her 180 degrees so her back is up against your chest. You run your hands up and down the black satin of her dress, the rococo frills and ribbons, the ruffled white lacework. You rest your chin on her shoulder and exhale hard through your nostrils as you feel her up. It makes her long raven hair billow.
"nn..." Vivian gulps. "What are you doing...?"
You kiss her bare, thin neck. "I need to cool off... will you help me?"
"You believe this well help with your fever?" Vivian asks.
"Yes," you lie, "it's a heat transfer -- stop squirming, now, okay?"
"Erm..." Vivian murmurs, indecisive, as your curious hands cup her flat chest. She has not even the hint of breasts evident under the dress's heavy material -- flat as a board. Just how you like it. She looks up at you from over her shoulder: "are you -- certain?"
"Oh, definitely."
She rubs her thighs together and presses the weight of her butt against your leaky dick.
Amber, watching, says: "Hold on! If you're transferring heat, won't that just make Vivian sick instead?"
You shake your head, still groping Vivian. Reaching down, you tug the brocaded hem of her dress up, and bare her damp cameltoe. Amber giggles. "Vivian, you wet yourself!"
"I... I don't know why..." Vivian says dazedly.
You explain to Amber. "Vivian already has a fever, too. See? She's sweating down here."
Amber clasps the fanned-out fingers of one hand to her lips. "This is serious! She's already sick, too, then!"
You nod. "We have to transfer heat from both of us. It's the only way."
"How can I help?" Amber asks.
"Let's check you for fever too," you tell Amber.
She feels her own forehead, eyes rolling up as if trying to see it. "I guess maybe I feel sorta weird... but I dunno..."
"No," you say, "you have to check down here." You loop an arm around Vivian's thin body and lightly brush your fingertips against her dewy panties. She draws a sharp intake of air through her teeth.
"um..." Amber says, voice small.
"Do it," you say firmly.
She hesitantly gets a thumb hooked in her waistband and undoes the clasp of her jean shorts. Then she slowly, slooooowly pulls the zipper. The denim spreads and finally you can see the stripes of her panties peeking out beneath, baby blue and baby pink -- and you can see that she's totally fucking wet right now. To confirm, Amber presses her palm down her pants, holding it to her crotch, and says: "Y-yeah... yeah, mister -- I'm all sweaty down there, too... what should I do?"
"We need to get you both naked," you say.
Vivian, in your arms, shivers. Amber takes a halting step backwards. "H-hold on a sec! We can't get *naked* -- that's weird!"
You're already undoing the elaborate series of catches and buttons on the back of Vivian's dress. She's too mortified to fight you. Her leaky little pussy is getting wetter by the second...
"Don't worry," you say. "This will help you cool off... I promise."
"Is this... is this really okay?" Amber asks.
"Of course," you tell her.
"But we're not s'posed to get naked," Amber says.
"I won't tell," you promise. "Are you going to tell anyone?"
She shakes her head.
"How about you?" You ask Vivian, staring over her shoulder, down at her translucent white panties. You suckle her neck, making her shiver anew.
"No... I won't tell."
"Then it can be our secret," you say. "And it'll help you feel better."
Breath shaky, body trembling, Amber peels off her tennis shoes, her shorts, and her tank. She wasn't wearing a bra, the fucking little whore, and the nipples of her barely-there tits are already hard and pointy. She hesitates at the final step, her thumbs and forefingers making a diamond against her darkly stained underwear. She stares abashedly at the ground.
"Those too," you order.
Reluctantly, Amber peels the sticky garment off her body. Stepping from them one leg at a time, her perky butt and puffy pussy come into view. Her vulva is tight and taut, but shiny with arousal. So fucking pretty.
"Give those here," you beckon, and Amber fumblingly hands you her wadded-up underwear. She tries to cover her cunt with her hands; you swat them. "Don't," you bark.
Amber squeaks in pain and and fright. "M-mister--!"
But she does as you command. She doesn't try to conceal her cunt from you. She blushes deeply as she stands there on display.
You help Vivian out of her dress, pulling it away with one hand as you hold her body steady with the other. You discard the thing in a heap on the floor, and following that comes her petticoat, then her bra, and at last your hands are tugging at her panties too -- unwrapping the young girl like a piece of candy.
"I still feel hot, mister..." Amber says. You stare at her nakedness unashamedly, devouring her with your eyes: her little B-cup titties, her dripping pussy.
"This... is not normal..." Vivian says, her voice weak. "You're doing strange things to us... you're a pervert, aren't you?"
"Yes," you admit plainly.
She looks at her friend: "did you know this about him, when you invited him?"
Amber wrings her hands. "Um... uh, yeah... I'm sorry..."
"nn..." Vivian gulps again, as you force her panties off despite her feeble resistance, and set them with Amber's on the tea table. Both girls are nude save for their socks; Amber's not even covering her ankles, and Vivian's extending up past her knees.
"I knew mister was a weird mister..." Amber confesses. "Because h-he did weird stuff to me, back at school... and I thought... I th-thought it would be fun if he did weird stuff to both of us."
Vivian is always like a doll in your hands, but especially when she's naked and trembling. You have the feeling that you could break her in two if you're not careful... and you don't plan to be very careful.
"My parents warned me of men like you," Vivian says. You stroke her little tummy up and down, enjoying the softness of her body. "Perverted men who... like to do things to little girls..."
"But you're perverted too," you whisper in her ear. Your fingers trace their way down, to the mound of her cunny, and run in circles against the slickness there. "This part of you is perverted. This little hole of yours is perverted... it's all wet and sticky because it wants me to do weird stuff to it..."
"Th-that's a lie," Vivian says. "That isn't-- nnn..." She tosses her head back against your collarbone as you rub the hard nubbin of her clitty. Her little fist clutches your shirt.
"Does that feel good?" Amber asks. "He touched me lots down there, too... and it felt really, really good for me..." she rubs herself obscenely with both hands, and even spreads the lips of her cunt apart with her thumbs. Like she's trying to show off, and simultaneously relieve the aching itch that grips her. It's not enough, and she whines: "I've been doing it myself, ever since... but it isn't the same as when mister does it..."
"Come here," you tell her.
She steps up close. You grab her butt and roughly tug her even closer, startling her. Now both your hands are busy: you're molesting both these girls at the same time. Amber arches her back and juts her hips out to give you easier access. Both her hands grasp your forearm tightly for balance. Her eyelids drift closed in pleasure as you slip your fingers up the hot vice of her fuckhole.
Vivian tries to talk sense into her: "This man is violating us... we should stop him..."
Amber bites her lip and shakes her head. "No, no we shouldn't..." She looks lecherously up at her friend, and humps your fingers like they're a dildo. "...We should *fuck* him."
"A-Amber..." Vivian stutters.
"Mister's got such a nice dick, Vivian! Don't you wanna see it?" She looks over at you: "I do... will you get your dick out for me, mister?"
"Get it out for me," you tell her.
She giggles stupidly. "Welllll~ ... okay. Your hands are kinda busy, huh?"
She straightens her posture and steps yet closer still, your right hand's fingers never once exiting her cunt. Meanwhile you rub the side of your left hand's middle finger up and down the unbelievably wet, rubbery, lewd crease of Vivian Darkbloom's innie. She's like a human-shaped puddle of goo in your arms, utterly unable to fight this humiliating toying. And now her humiliation ratchets higher, as Amber reaches right between her pale legs, and under her pale butt, to find the zipper of your pants. She gets it undone and fishes your engorged dick out. You grunt in delight as you feel the cool air waft over it. It juts up from between Vivian's thighs, like the leg of a table, dark and enormous compared to her slight build. It throbs, pulses, and seeps prefuck like a faucet. Sitting in this position, it looks like it could push past her womb and into her diaphragm -- this fucking cock of yours could ruin her if you fucked her with it. You're definitely gonna fuck her with it.
You let your left hand fall to your side, and instruct Amber: "rub my dick against Vivian's hole for me. Jerk me off."
"Haha..." Amber laughs. "You really are a pervert..." But she does as instructed. She holds your cock by the root, down near the balls, and slaps it against Vivian's cunt. The skin-to-skin contact makes both of you groan, yours deep and lusty, Vivian's high and whiny.
"See how wet your friend is?" You ask Amber.
She nods. "Uh huh..."
"That means she's a cunt," you say.
"Haha..." Amber coos. "You're a cunt, Vivian! Just like me!"
"Amber--" Vivian pleads. "Don't... don't look..."
"Has she ever been fucked before?" You ask.
"Nuu-uhh," Amber says. "She's cherry, just like I was when you fucked me!"
"She won't be cherry for long," you growl.
"That's what you like, huh?" Amber says coyly. "You like popping cherries, mister?"
Vivian, mewling, clutches your shirt with both fists now, and writhes against you, looking pitifully up at you. "Please, mister, no... I don't want to have sex... your-- your p-penis is too big... it would never fit... I beg you... d-do not deflower me..."
"Call it a cock," Amber tells her. "That's what he likes." She wags that cock of your back and forth across Vivian's cunt, pushing the lips one way and then the other, and smearing your shaft with her lovely secretions. You enjoy the slick sensation of her juices lubing you up in preparation to 'deflower' her.
You lift her up. Your fingers can almost touch each other wrapped around her waist; she's basically a living dicksleeve. You perch your chin on her shoulder and rasp: "I'm gonna put my cock in you whether you want it or not, fucking cunt. You should have thought about this before you drugged me."
"S-stop -- I'm s-sorry--!! No!!"
You thrust your butt upwards at the same time as you slam her downwards. Your cockhead splits her pretty hole open, forcing it impossibly wide, stretching it like a rubber band about to snap. You don't stop there, either; you jab her down over and over, forcing her too-small pussy to engulf your burning hot shaft entirely -- down, down to the wiry pubes around your crotch. They're such a contrast against her hairless mound. The chair creaks and the china clatters on the table. Vivian grits her teeth, her entire body seizes -- and then she screams in pain that isn't roleplayed. You're really fucking hurting her with the merciless force and speed of your balls-deep penetration.
You grab, randomly, one of the pairs of panties off the table; Amber's. You pry Vivian's jaw open, fingers against her lower teeth, wad the garment up and shove them in her mouth. It shuts her up. "That's better," you snarl.
You start to fuck her, the flat of your other palm bracing the small of her back, humping up into her body as you sit in the chair. Vivian is still screaming, but it's muffled by the sodden cotton, and her frantic breaths through her nose are the only real noise to accompany your brutal, squelchy, slam-fuck rape.
"Whoooaaa..." Amber breathes. "You're really fucking her up, mister!"
She parts the hair out of Vivian's face and looks her in the eye. Vivian's expression is a whole panorama of emotions: fear, pain, betrayal... lust, perverted enjoyment, pleasure... Amber smiles back at her.
"He's gonna shoot his white stuff in you," Amber says. "That's how babies get made. Maybe he'll make a baby in you?"
Vivian wrenches her eyes closed and shakes her head violently. She doesn't want a baby. But whatever she tries to say is unintelligible through her playmate's cunt-stained shimapan.
"Kiss her," you tell Amber.
Amber, who's at least as much of a pervert as she says you are, winks at you. She takes Vivian's conservative white cotton panties off the table and wads them in her mouth in mimicry of Vivian; and then, through the dual gags, she presses her yawning mouth to Vivian's, and showers her in kisses. This is too delicious to miss out on yourself. So as you fuck Vivian's insides to a pulp, you join that lesbian kiss and turn it to a three-way makeout session, enjoying the taste and smell of those girls' panties, as well as their faces, their necks, their budding tits -- and Vivian's tears, too. She can cry, but the slut is still all juicy inside, and her puffy pussy spasms against your invading cock in a way that plainly proves how much it loves getting raped. Vivian likes getting her cunt busted open. She likes the way your dick bruises up her womb. You suck and kiss the girls' faces as enjoy raping her to the fullest possible extent.
"Get on your knees," you tell Amber.
She does, without question.
"Lick my balls."
She pulls the panties from her mouth and lets them dangle in the air, bridged to her lips by a long, viscous streamer of drool. "Aaaahhh," she says like a patient at the dentist. She rubs the slobber- and cunt-slime-coated thing against her pussy, masturbating with it, as she leans forward and begins to swab her dainty pink tongue around your nuts. It's nice and wet and smooth. She watches the way you fuck her pal, the way you rape her, from way up close, and helps you feel even better while you do it. What a good little girl, introducing you to her friend like this...
"Cum lots inside her, mister!" Amber says between licks. Her voice is all staccato and lusty. Telling you that gets her off, too -- you can hear the wet patter of her creaming in Vivian's panties.
Vivian tries to say something, and you decide to let her speak; you tug the underwear from her mouth as well.
"M-m-m-m-ister," she says, shivering like a victim of hypothermia, "A-a-are, are you g-g-going t-t-t-to insem-m-m-menate m-m-m-eee?"
"Is that what you want?" You ask, viciously punctuating your syllables with hard thrusts into her.
"Y-y-yes... y-y-yessshh..."
She swoons and collapses against your chest. Hands squeezing her tiny butt, you seat yourself in her uterus, and roar, a long, loud, "oooooohhhhh, fuuuuckkkk..." as your cock shoots off and you dump a load straight into her belly. Amber continues sucking your testicles as they tighten and spew their wad into Vivian; her lips purse into an O and her good eye shines bright as she watches Vivian's cunt getting sullied with your 'white stuff.'
"Oh gosh," Amber marvels. "You really spermed a whole lot just now..." She gives a long, languid lick, up to where your cock is wedged in Vivian's fun-sized cunt, and adds: "How nice... you've got a new pussy to fuck, mister! Do you like the way it feels on your cock?"
"Fuck, yes," you heave.
"You'll still fuck my pussy too, right?"
"Oh yes... I'll fuck both of you..."
Vivian, still woozy, and high on cum, smiles wanly up at you. Her grippy cunt massages your dick in her well-honed way and keeps it hard.
As you pull out Vivian's body, Amber makes sure to catch the backflow of semen with the crotch of Vivian's panties. Then, when the milky white mess is all out of her and pooled there, she helps Vivian back into them -- mashing the sloppy mess against Vivian's cunt mound, and trapping it. Vivian's hands join Amber's at her crotch, and together they play: they take turns pressing the totally transparent, sticky, sodden garment against the contours of Vivian's cunny. They wedge it into her and pull it out, over and again. They giggle and laugh at their games. Their hands get shiny with the residue of your cum.
But Amber wants her turn. She leaps to her feet, bends over the table, and spreads her ass wide with both hands. Her fingers make dimples in her unblemished skin just below her ass cheeks; you see her pristine anus and her slightly parted pussy.
Side of her face pressed to the table, she stares back at you. "Fuck me, mister, fuck me! Pour your white stuff in my hole, too!"
You let Vivian down onto the floor, step out of your pants and boxers, and mount Amber like the baby bitch she is. You fuck her doggy style, the table shaking underneath her, china collapsing to the floor, Johann and Adolf and Plissken lolling to their sides. Amber can just hold on for dear life, as you force your horny prick in and out of her cunny. You're even less merciful than you were with Vivian.
"You're such a pervert... such a pervert..." Vivian pants, rising to her knees. "Putting your cock in little girls like this... fucking them and shooting your white stuff inside them... don't you have any shame?"
"No," you grunt. "It's all your fault, you little sluts..."
"You're so mean, mister..." Amber whines below you. You shut her up by wrapping your hands around her throat and choking her. She gasps, but it's a gasp of enjoyment -- and she's smiling as you nail her even harder.
"Lick my asshole," you grunt at Vivian.
Her lips curl as if she's disgusted, but she doesn't dispute the order. She rises up and parts the globes of your ass. With a small sigh, she licks your anus a couple times -- then sticks her tongue inside. Sitting on her besocked knees, wearing cummy panties, she rims you out as you fuck Amber within an inch of her life. There's no better feeling than that, a hot little tongue in your butt and a hot cunt wrapped around your dick.
"Oooh," you're groaning again, "oh fuck, oh fuck--" you feel a couple deep, wet surges, your cock shooting internally, giving Amber the creampie she so desired. There's a huge volume of it, and it fills the tiny space of her pussy in no time. With Vivian kneading your balls to help you along even as she continues to lick you out -- a new, debauched idea enters your mind. You pull out of Amber's cunt with a slurp, gripping your dick by the base to stop your cum. The girls watch with interest as you take their teacups -- first Amber's, then Vivian's -- and squirt thick ropes of cum into both. The tea turns pale with your seed, although some of it misses the mark, splattering against the rim, and down the side, and onto the saucer too.
No matter; Amber and Vivian enjoy your cream either way. With both girls now clad in nothing but socks and cum-drenched panties, they resume their seats. The china is scattered all around, sugarbowl on the floor, spilled tea staining the white lace tablecloth; the room stinks of cum and fucking, and there are spatters of your collective fluids smeared on the table -- it's not a refined scene at all. But daintily the little girls sit there, and drink the rest of their tea flavored with your cum. They lick up the last dredges of cream from the dishes when it's done. Long, slow, broad licks, savoring it from directly off the gleaming porcelain. They giggle at you while they do it.
A few minutes later, when they take a second serving, you give them a second helping of that cream, too -- they jerk you off in tandem, all four of their hands working your enormous shaft over, and coax your jizz out. They sit between your legs, kissing and masturbating you. You cum in Amber's mouth, a couple blasts; then Vivian's, a couple more; and when they sit at the table again they drool the milky load into their cups, stirring it all up.
"Thanks mister," Amber says, the cum still dribbling down her chin.
"Yes," Vivian agrees, a bubble of cum popping on her lips. "You are a wonderful guest, after all."