62: Not Prom, but Prom

The first thing Bharath registered in the morning was heat - soft and teasing. Then, wetness. One tongue. Then two. Then more. Followed by a sigh. Then moans. A warm palm sliding under the sheets like it had every right to be there.

Eyes still closed, his body already knew. The bed was alive with his goddesses. Mia’s pouty lips were at his collarbone, nibbling like she’d been starved in her sleep. Marisol’s hair tickled his thighs - she was always the first to dive for the source. Sarah, firm and possessive, straddled his torso with her breasts pressed to his face, cooing encouragement.

Zara’s hands were on his abs, tracing every muscle like she was memorizing them for sculpture. And Ayesha - sweet Ayesha - her tongue was dancing circles around his earlobe, whispering praises in between licks.

Bharath groaned.

“Good morning, mi amor,” Marisol hummed from below, voice already smug with accomplishment.

“Mmm. You’re already hard,” Mia whispered against his shoulder. “That’s our boy.”

“You weren’t planning to sleep in, were you?” Sarah’s voice was husky, filled with laughter and hunger.

Zara and Ayesha answered by sliding under the sheets together, laughing before locking onto his thighs from either side. Bharath arched up, completely surrounded, helpless to the storm of feminine attention.

First there were five mouths on him and ten hands. Breasts that pressed and swayed and trapped him in silken skin and desire. Tongues traced patterns up and down his length. Lips sealed around him in turns-sometimes one at a time, sometimes together, tongues touching as they worshipped him from either side. A teasing contest. A holy war of pleasure.

“You’re going to be late for gym, mi amor,” Mia teased, her hands circling his chest-but she didn’t stop her own hands from drifting lower.

“He needs to train,” Sarah said, feigning sternness. “But he also needs to be drained. Can’t have him distracted at the gym.”

“He’s never not distracted,” Mia murmured. “Have you seen that thing twitch when I bend over?”

They all laughed. They all kissed. They all took from him, and gave back tenfold.

Zara trailed her fingers down his chest, her voice soft. “You know this is how we want to wake you everyday for the rest of our lives, right?”

Bharath didn’t answer right away. He looked at each of them - skin flushed, bodies glistening in the morning light. It was ridiculous how beautiful they all looked, even while tousled and half-asleep.

“I’m not sure if my heart, or my dick, can handle this much love every day,” he muttered, groaning a little bit as Marisol tried to take him deeper.

Ayesha gave him a crooked smile and nipped his jawline. “Oh we’ll make sure that you’ll survive. All you need is practice.”

He tried to hold on - he wanted to prolong the moment, soak it in - but when Marisol deep-throated him while Sarah licked his balls and Zara’s fingers circled his nipples with her tongue, he almost lost it. With a shout, the girls arranged themselves around his shaft with their tongues out. Bharath erupted - hot, thick, pulsing against skin and tongue and open mouths. But the girls didn’t flinch.

They moaned when they felt him erupt. They caught it with their eager mouths, welcoming him as they were covered in him.

Ayesha giggled as she rubbed his cum across Sarah’s breasts. “Oops. Look what our man gave us.”

Sarah, cheeks flushed, smirked. “Messy boy. Looks like we have a job to do girls.”

“He’s perfect,” Zara whispered, eyes dreamy as she scooped a strand from Mia’s cheek with her tongue.

They kissed each other, all of them licking each other clean, laughing as they saw what it did to Bharath. Tasting him off each other like it was the tastiest treat. Bharath could barely breathe looking at his nymphs playing with each other for his benefit. He could barely process what he was looking at. He just sat there on the edge of the bed, watching them in awe, thanking every deity in existence for this bounty.

“Girls...” he croaked, “you’re going to kill me one day.”

“Not today,” Marisol purred. “Today, we shower with you.”

They moved like a synchronized routine now-used to post-play rituals. Lotions. Oils. Hair wrapped in towels. Stolen kisses while squabbling over Bharath’s gym t-shirts to wear for the day.

“Bharath,” Mia said reluctantly as she gently broke away from his arms, “I should get going.”

His face fell just slightly. “Already? It’s just 7.”

“I told Mami I’d be home by ten,” she said with a smile, wrapping her arms around him. “She wants help with Thanksgiving prep. And she wants to go shopping. Apparently turning eighteen requires a new dress and a dozen life lectures.”

“You sure she’s not just using that as an excuse to steal you away for a bit?”

Mia nodded, then leaned up to kiss him-slow, deep, full of that final-moment ache. “She knows about my crush on you, you know.”

He blinked. “Really?”

Mia shook her head. “Yes. But she sees all the positive changes in me. And that I’m happy.” She swallowed, suddenly serious. “She’s ... scared for me. But she trusts me. She says I look stronger now. Like I know who I am.”

Bharath ran his fingers through her damp curls, cupping her cheek. “Do you?”

She nodded without hesitation. “I’m yours. I know that.”

She kissed him once more, then turned to the others. “Don’t wear him out too much. I need him strong tonight.”

“We’ll leave just enough stamina for you,” Marisol said with a wink.

Mia grinned and gave them all a group hug, whispering something to Sarah that made the blonde snort with laughter. Then she got up to change, leaving the scent of coconut shampoo and wild temptation behind her.

Mia’s pulse thrummed wildly as she stepped back into the master bedroom, cheeks flaming, heart pounding. Her breath trembled slightly as she glanced at the full-length mirror, eyes trailing down her reflection with reluctant pride and mild exasperation.

The mini-skirt she’d worn yesterday hugged her curves in ways that made her heart race, remembering what Bharath had done to her last night-ways she now realized she only wanted him to notice. She’d worn it before, deliberately drawing eyes and savoring attention. But now, something had shifted. She wanted only his gaze-no one else’s. Not unless he was there. Then she didn’t care. She wanted to show off for him.

Mia scanned the room quickly, eyes locking onto Marisol’s neatly folded jeans atop a pile of freshly laundered clothes. They were worn, comfortable, and clearly not hers-but they’d do. She shimmied out of her skirt, wiggling into the snug denim, tugging and adjusting until they molded to her body. The jeans were tighter than she’d expected, hugging her hips and thighs in a way that was flattering but far less provocative.

Mia tugged the denim higher and frowned. They used to slide on like butter; now she had to hop once to get them past her hips.
What the hell ... Marisol’s jeans were never tight on me.

She turned sideways in the mirror. The fabric hugged every curve-flattering, but snug. Marisol’s name stitched on the inside label stared back like proof.
A slow grin crept across her face.
So the goddess has been grinding, huh?

Ever since she’d started that Apsara yoga routine with Sarah and the others, Marisol’s body had changed-leaner, taut, dancer-cut muscles where there’d once been soft curves. Mia remembered teasing her about “booty yoga” months ago; now the woman’s jeans were sculpted for a fighter, not a flirt.

For the first time, Mia felt the tiniest flicker of competitive heat. She’d always been the fitness girl-the one with abs that made the world whistle. But now, even Marisol’s hand-me-downs reminded her that Tech life-and Bharath’s kind of cardio-had transformed everyone.

She exhaled, smoothing the denim over her thighs. “Guess I’ll have to earn my spot back,” she muttered with a crooked smile, half pride, half challenge. She sighed with relief, buttoning them up swiftly.

A low chuckle from behind her made her jump, and she whirled around to see Bharath leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes glittering with amusement and undeniable hunger.

“What are you doing now?” he asked softly, his gaze roaming appreciatively over her figure.

She crossed her arms, half-smiling defensively. “Changing. I realized I’m too sexy in that skirt. I don’t want anyone else looking at me like that anymore.”

Bharath’s eyebrows rose, amusement melting into fondness, his lips twitching. “Mia,” he purred, stepping slowly toward her, each movement graceful and deliberate, “you could wear a burlap sack and you’d still be the sexiest girl on campus. And I never, ever want you to hide yourself for me. You are the sun. Its light can never be hidden no matter how many blankets you drape upon it.”

Her face flushed darker, but she tilted her chin stubbornly. “I don’t care. It’s my choice. And now that I’m yours, I only want your eyes on me.”

His eyes softened, his voice dropping to a low, velvety rasp. “Only mine, hmm?”

“Si, mi amor,” she whispered, heat rising higher in her chest. “No one else. Ever.”

He reached her in two swift strides, hands sliding around her waist to grip her hips firmly, pulling her flush against his hard, sculpted frame. Her breath hitched, palms landing instinctively against his chest, heart racing at the sensation of his strong heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

“You realize,” he murmured, lips grazing her temple, breath stirring the delicate wisps of hair at her ear, “that making declarations like that does nothing to protect you from my attention.”

She laughed breathlessly, shivering as his fingers tightened possessively. “Idiota. That’s the point.”

His eyes darkened, his mouth finding hers in a deep, claiming kiss that was slow and devastating. His tongue teased hers gently, his lips expertly drawing soft, hungry moans from her throat. When he finally pulled back slightly, he watched her face closely, loving the dazed expression clouding her beautiful eyes.

“You’re dangerous, papi,” she murmured, leaning into him, fingers sliding upward to curl in his hair. “You make me lose my mind.”

“Good,” he whispered, pulling her into another searing kiss. “Because you’ve stolen mine completely.”

His hand dipped lower, fingers expertly finding the button of the jeans she’d just put on. Her eyes widened briefly, but she didn’t stop him, heart pounding in anticipation. The button popped open easily, zipper sliding down an inch at a time, torturously slow, until his warm palm slipped beneath the denim and the lace, claiming her again without hesitation.

Mia gasped, knees trembling as his fingers immediately found their target, stroking her slick, swollen folds. Her head fell back, eyes fluttering shut, a helpless whimper slipping free. “Bharath ... please,” she breathed, voice shaking. “I just changed!”

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest, his fingers moving with practiced mastery, knowing exactly how to make her melt. “And you’re wet again. So much for modesty.”

“It’s your fault!” she moaned, hips involuntarily bucking against his hand, breath hitching with each expert caress.

He hummed softly in agreement, nipping her neck lightly. “And I’ll keep making sure you’re always soaked,” he growled, sinking a finger slowly into her welcoming heat. “Reminding you constantly who you belong to.”

Mia clung to him, shaking, her nails biting into his shoulders. “Bharath, por favor,” she whimpered, nearly losing her balance as another finger joined the first, stretching her gently, making her dizzy. “I ... I won’t be able to leave this way!”

“You don’t have to,” he whispered darkly, pressing deeper, his thumb finding her sensitive nub and circling it softly. “Stay. Stay and let me claim you properly right now.”

Her body shuddered violently, temptation nearly overpowering her. But somehow, through the haze of pleasure, she remembered the significance of what awaited her.

“No,” she gasped, mustering her strength to push him away weakly, even as she pressed kisses desperately against his mouth. “I need to go to home. Mami is expecting me and we can’t make her suspicious so close to Thanksgiving. I can’t miss it today. You’re ruining my life in the best possible way.”

He grinned wickedly, withdrawing his fingers slowly, deliberately, bringing them to his lips to taste her. The sight was almost her undoing, her knees nearly giving out beneath her.

“You’re torturing me,” she whimpered, hurriedly redoing her jeans and trying to smooth her hair with shaky hands. “But tonight ... you know what I expect from you.”

His expression shifted instantly, intrigue mingling with barely restrained excitement. “Tell me again,” he commanded softly, eyes blazing into hers. “Exactly what you expect.”

Mia leaned close, voice a sultry whisper against his ear, deliberately drawing each word out to tease him. “Tonight,” she breathed, “you’re going to give me everything. No holding back. Claim me fully. Make me yours in every way possible except for the final virginity that I want to give you on your birthday with my sisters.”

Bharath froze, his eyes widening slightly as if the reality of her words finally struck him full force. She laughed softly, utterly delighted by his stunned reaction, kissing him once more playfully before stepping away.

“You look mindblown,” she teased, backing slowly toward the door with a mischievous grin. “Good. Now you’ll think about me every minute until then.”

He reached for her again, laughing, but she danced away just out of his reach. “Mia,” he groaned, eyes bright with playful frustration. “You’re cruel.”

“And you love it,” she shot back, blowing him a teasing kiss. “Now let me go change again. You’ve ruined these jeans. I’ll go raid Sarah’s stash now. She should have something that fits me.”

He laughed as she darted into the laundry room, her joyful giggle lingering behind her.

Inside, Mia took a deep breath, heart pounding wildly as she peeled off the now-damp jeans and changed into yet another dry pair, cheeks flushed, body humming with anticipation and excitement. She felt taken already - her heart, her body, her soul - all of it belonged completely to him.

She quickly finished dressing, catching one last glance at herself in the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, her smile radiant, every part of her thrumming with happiness and nervous excitement.

Just one more day. One more day until she could truly become his. Fully. Completely.