I lay flat on my back without much to do except support Stephanie’s weight and try to breathe discreetly while Maires came back, sat herself straddling my thighs, and spread aloe vera, blended with other potions and unguents, over Stephanie’s ass.
I smiled up at her. She smiled back, happy. Then she began to laugh: not a laugh because something was silly, just a laugh of happiness. I reached up and kissed her throat.
Maires wasn’t having some girl laugh at her attempts, and a second later I heard the unmistakeable sound of her hand, impacting on an already-sensitive bottom. Stephanie stopped laughing, and squirmed, trying to get away. So I reached up and held her tight so there was no escape, and said, “Go on, Maires. Do your worst.”
Her bottom still ringing with Maires’s worst, or best, Stephanie lowered her head, eyes thoroughly amused, and kissed me. Then she settled again so Maires could finish her spanking – that took a little while – and go back to kneading her buttocks and thighs. Our breaths mingled. After a time Stephanie closed her eyes and began to move under Maires’s attentions. I held her tight, but affectionately, not wanting to prevent her from moving while Maires pleasured her.
Her thighs were silk, sometimes pressing on my cock, sometimes just softly touching. At last Stephanie made a face of anguish and groaned low and loud, her body moving in response to Maires’s stroking hands like a flopping fish. I think she’d forgotten I was there.
But I recognised her expression, and I knew that my discomfort with supporting all of Stephanie’s and most of Maires’s body was escalating into pain. There was only one person who wasn’t brave about pain: that was me. It was time to end this.
I smiled reassuringly up at Stephanie, not that she could see me at that moment, and moved my hands under her to hold and cup her breasts. Surpised, she opened her eyes for less than a second and realised I was still there. Just then, only Maires’s hands mattered. She closed her eyes again.
So I took her nipples, as Maires had not so long ago, and squeezed them hard between my thumbs and forefingers. She raised her head, possibly meaning to give me better access, possibly not thinking at all. I squeezed tighter, going from hard to cruel.
Stephanie yowled. I didn’t let go of her. Her orgasm came as a long moan, not as dramatic as her last, but – it seemed – more satisfied, more final.
She fell forward onto me, arms round my head. She was likely to fall asleep. Maires’s face emerged, looking down Stephanie’s back at me. She looked about as triumphant as a human can. “Stephanie sandwich! We should have – you should have done this years ago.”
“I was probably trying to do the right thing, or some such. But yes, turns out you’re right. Just a moment.” I turned over, tipping Stephanie onto the bed, on her side. She half-woke and mumbled what was probably a complaint, but she curled up, her face and knees turned to me, fingers near her mouth. I looked at her in wonder, then grinned at Maires.
“We can still be a Stephanie sandwich. Just a horizontal one, not a stack on top of me.”
I raised myself to kiss Maires. We gazed into each others’ eyes, conspirators who’d somehow managed to pull of a cunning plan. But she looked serious for a moment.
“We’ll have a bit of a sleep. But you, Master, you’re not off the hook, you know. Two girls who need fucking.” I raised my eyebrows: what had we just been doing? She shook her head. “Cock, I mean. This is your down time, bozo. I mean, Master.”
She lay on her side behind Stephanie, spooning her, and put her arm over her side, to cup her breast.