Helping hand(s)

“Can you guys get it together for fucks sake?!”

To say Coach is angry would be the understatement of the century.

It’s not often he swears out his players, being college students and all, but everyone nearby can hear his frustration even through the walls of the locker room.

The cheerleading squad can hear him too, but it’s none of their business.

“Where do I even start with you fuckin’ bums,” he grits out between his teeth, his gaze going from player to player. “Simon, your defensive effort today: hot garbage. The opposing team shot 56% when you were the primary defender.”

The poor soul can only look down in shame, completely speechless at the fact. Numbers don’t lie.

“Leon, you can’t catch a ball to save your fucking life,” he then says to the next underperformer, a tall man designated as the team’s starting center. “What’s the point of being 7’1 if you can’t get in that paint and outbox anyone? Useless!”

One by one, the coach lashes out his personal grievances towards every player, regardless of whether they played or not. Whether it be inefficient shooting, poor playmaking, lackluster effort, abysmal defense, the list goes on and on. It’s a dysfunctional mess. Not even the star player is spared from this verbal lashing.

“Just because you did well doesn’t mean you’re exempt,” he then lasers his gaze toward you. “The record books only see Ws or Ls. And we lost. Horribly.”

Not even a 35 point outburst can change the final score: an embarrassing 97-72 destruction on home turf. You were effectively ran out of your own building by the visiting team.

Add another L to your now 4 game losing skid. Tournament prospects are at an all-time low.

“Christ, if I could have you all cut right here and now, I would have done it. 100 percent,” he remarks, scathing and to the point. “You guys are too pathetic to be called a basketball team.”

After he’s had his fair share of berating you and the rest of the team, Coach Lyles thumps his fist angrily at one of the lockers, echoing through the room with a thunderous clang.

“I’m having you guys run the marathon on Tuesday,” he concludes, his tone brooking no argument or protest. “Everyone shall be present at campus grounds at 5 AM sharp. No excuses, or you’ll be cut. Automatically.”

Quietly dismissing the team, one by one, your teammates slowly make their way towards the showers, too detached to even care at this point. It is what is.

Onto the next one, as they say.

Emerging from the lockers freshly showered, the captain of the cheerleading squad has been waiting on the other side of that door.

“Another tough loss,” Wonyoung starts, sounding sweet even in this deflating mood, lessening the pain just a bit, “but that wasn’t your fault at all. You did everything you could.”

“Sure it is,” you casually remark, smiling to mask the ache, though it fails, “We let them catch fire early in the first, and there was no looking back. Appreciate the effort, though.”

She rolls her eyes, yet can’t hide her grin when you chide her. “I know, I know. Just sucks for you to be balling on such a terrible squad like ours. I fear you won’t make it if our record keeps sliding.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say, trying to play it off as insignificant, but not really. Scouts also look beyond the stats too; they see whether it translates to winning basketball, no matter how good the numbers may look. At this rate, you might not even be a second round pick with how badly the team is performing, as Wonyoung surmised. “I’m just doing my part.”

“Better hope things turn around soon,” she remarks as you exit the building into the night, her words drowned out as a particularly cool gust whips your faces, making her bury her head into your side and the familiar warmth that accompanies it. “Even if they don’t, I got your back if it comes to that point.”

You look over at her with a raised brow, surprised by her uncharacteristic support, and not just as a member of the basketball team.

“Oh and—I forgot to give you this,” Wonyoung suddenly pulls something from her purse—a makeshift friendship bracelet. “Leeseo wanted me to give you this for good luck. She’s the new freshman and youngest of the cheer squad, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Graciously accepting the gift, you gaze at the pink, neon green, and gold tassel tied into a neat square, adorned with a pair of heart stickers, along with a smaller version of the jersey number that’s painted across your back.

A goofy smile works itself upon your face before Wonyoung adds on: “Also, she’s taken quite the shine to you. Must be cause you’re the one carrying the team.”

“You sure it’s not because she has a crush on me, like the rest of the cheer squad?”

“Of course not,” she replies almost immediately, shooting you a judging pout for even considering the notion. “She’s new around these parts. You’re like the 4th most attractive guy on the team.”

“4th seems way too generous for your supremely high standards.”

“It is when a majority are bums or can’t walk in a straight line with two good legs.”

“Yet they’re the same people getting drafted,” you quip. “Sounds hypocritical coming from a cheer squad.”

She playfully shoves you. “Hey, cheer squads can only go far to elevate the team’s overall performance. We’re not miracle workers.”

You let her hold your hand.

“Lucky I still have some faith left,” you mutter, gripping the bracelet still in your grasp tightly as you turn over its tiny knits. “Still early in the season. We can still fight.”

Your captain pulls a teasing smile.

“You guys may suck right now, but that’s why you have me,” she states, confidence practically oozing through her voice. “To give them something to cheer about.”

It’s enough for your knees to buckle just hearing her.

“Cause we all know who the real star of the team is.” The seduction drips out of her naturally, that perfect balance of modest and overt, full of pure attraction as a stranger walking past them on the sidewalk notices. You both have no reason to hide your public display, no matter the looks.

There’s no lying that her positive and bubbly energy has influenced many of her cheer squad, most of which you’re familiar with in passing, the ‘old’ girls you’re friends with mostly coming from other years or programs.

She’s certainly outshined them as of late.

“Of course,” she adds, “there’s a catch, as per usual.”

“And that is?”

“Tomorrow should be your day off, yeah? I want you to come to the court after lunch. Bring one of the guys with you. Need you two to judge this new routine we’re trying for the next game.”

You lift a brow, puzzled. “You know I don’t watch you girls practice while we’re doing our workouts, right?”

“Sure you don’t, but some of the other guys do. Maybe that’s why they’ve been playing so terribly to start the season,” Wonyoung teases. “Maybe they should be part of the cheerleading squad instead.”

“To you, but how come I’m involved?” you argue. The last thing you want to see after a terrible loss like tonight is to be back on the court so soon. You need a clear head before getting back.

“Because.”

Whatever. “Fair enough.”

“Oh, and also,” she grabs your attention with her voice again, tugging your sleeve before you take another step forward, “you did pretty good tonight, as always.”

“Still lost the game, so no.”

Wonyoung laughs. Even her chuckle is expensive and emanates pure class.

Then you get to the parking lot, and the disparity is all the more evident: a Mercedes convertible compared to your humble 1994 Nissan pickup.

“See you tomorrow. Don’t be late,” she reminds you once more, honking at you with the horn before leaving.

If there’s one person who can surely elevate team morale, it’s only Jang Wonyoung.

It sure as hell ain’t Austin though.

Even with the chance of watching an entirely new and original cheer squad routine.

“Well I think I’m good enough without seeing the court right now,” your first teammate remarks noncommittally as he carries his laundry basket, already turning for the machines, thus ending the conversation. “Plus, I gotta buy groceries for my baby mama, so—”

He doesn’t need to say anything further.

“Alright then.”

Just your luck that you bump into him before he can leave, so the only option is to ask others for backup.

Most of them end up saying no. Even for Wonyoung. Whether it’s other commitments, excuses, or just simple lack of interest, all of the other options seem to go down the drain.

So it comes to a surprise when Darren, the ‘garbage time’ benchwarmer, the 15th man on the roster, happens to pass by as you drive along his street. “Hey man, wanna come to the court with me?”

“Of-fucking-course dude!” Whether this is genuine or an excuse to play ball because of his lack of playing time is indiscernible. Probably the latter. “What are we doing?”

“Actually—can you please do me a favor? Wonyoung wants us both to evaluate the new routine they’re doing for the next game.”

Darren groans in displeasure. “Ugh. So no hoops?”

“Maybe after. We can do some 1v1.”

“Oh, and can you put a word in to Coach to give me some playing time?”

You pause. Asking Coach for things isn’t one of your benefits despite being team captain. But he’s the only guy willing to put up with whatever Wonyoung wants, and you’re the only man Coach is relatively fine with, even after all that berating as the star player. So you’ll give it a shot.

“—fine.”

As expected, there isn’t much traffic at all despite being Friday; not a surprise considering the campus grounds is in a suburban area far away from the rest of the city, save for the sports complex.

Since everyone else’s on day-off, there’s only the cheerleaders occupying a section of the floor. A group of six with different looks; one of the tallest, rocking a ponytail, is waving to you. Leeseo.

“So he brought you,” Wonyoung sighs, putting her phone down before heading your way. “Guess the others said no.”

“Hey!” Darren pipes up, interrupting the interaction in typical chaotic fashion. “This is for playing time, so cut me some slack!”

You can only chuckle, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Ehe. Sorry Wony, everyone else said they were busy today.”

“It’s fine. Least you got me a second guy,” she remarks, much to Darren’s disapproval. Clearly the two look annoyed being near each other, the details of which you have no clue about.

She then introduces you two to the rest. “You already know Leeseo, the freshman. Gaeul and Yujin, graduates this year. Then there’s the foreigner.”

The brunette waves at you in the middle of her stretching.

“Rei! From Japan!” she remarks, wearing a cheeky smile that immediately demands attention. She’s actually adorable, all things considered. Behind her, Leeseo pops her head out with a cartoonishly sweet smile.

“Did you get my bracelet?”

You quietly raise your hand, already wearing her gift on your wrist, knowing full well she’d ask at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Thanks Wony!”

Wonyoung can’t help but shake her head, but she’s grinning from ear to ear. “O-kay, enough with the formalities. Just sit by the bleachers and take some notes.”

“Any specific details we have to point out?” Darren asks, sounding bored and wanting to be anywhere else.

“Just pay attention. Call out any mistakes or lack in our energy. Like Coach does with you guys.”

Darren appears to take offense to her little remark; it’s one of her usual exchanges between friends, so no surprises there. But he relents.

Leeseo huffs cutely, crossing her arms and blowing bubbles at Wonyoung’s curt dismissal. She was trying hard to be friendly, a fact not lost on any of the members, given her newcomer status. The youngest gives one last pleading look to you, but you’ve already given your focus back on the task at hand: taking mental notes.

Pleasantries have never been Wonyoung’s forte, which may explain the passive-aggressiveness between her and Darren, or the awkwardness between herself and Leeseo despite only knowing each other for a little over a month.

Nevertheless, practice goes by in a flash; an hourlong routine with new music and fresh choreography. Despite the mundane setting, there’s an infectious energy whenever they perform, with Leeseo leading the effort. And to have Wonyoung as her captain only serves to amplify everything else.

Your presence serves as encouragement for Leeseo, no doubt; and when she’s on the mat, she takes center stage, whipping through stunts, completing layouts like it’s nothing, her body spinning through the air with practiced ease. She’s practically auditioning to be the next captain of the cheer squad when everyone else has come and gone.

But that doesn’t mean Wonyoung is no slouch either; every move, every position—even the subtlest exprsssions—has an unsurpassable level of grace and finesse that can’t be found anywhere else.

The practice session concludes with a cooldown stretch for the girls.

“Didja like it?” Wonyoung hops onto the chair with a little spin before sidling next to you.

“Pretty freaking good. No notes.”

“Actually,” Darren suddenly interjects in a disparaging tone. “Wonyoung. That last bit where you had your legs spread while Yujin and Gaeul were carrying you—that looked strained as hell.”

The world stops. Everything comes to a complete, utter standstill.

After a pause, Wonyoung assesses his comment, and in a rare moment, concedes: “Good call, Darren.”

Much to the shock and disapproval of the others. You remain pragmatic. There’s no way Wonyoung would agree—unless she genuinely finds something wrong.

“Well? Any suggestions, Darren?” she then asks him on the spot.

“Maybe make the stretch a bit shorter? Yujin and Gaeul also seem to be burdened with having to carry your legs. Or just scrap the move entirely. I don’t know.”

“So less emphasis and transition?”

“Well I said more of a shorter length, but I guess—”

The conversation between the two of them goes back and forth, without a shred of animosity or accusation. They don’t even raise their voices, not at all; just two individuals, analyzing, dissecting, and examining a situation objectively, working it out piece by piece as it develops organically.

Wonyoung asks the pertinent question, Darren answers. She makes the necessary clarifications, then he follows up with a critique. While she may recoil at some comments due to his blunt honesty, she reevaluates them again before moving onto the next problem, making tiny revisions on the critical bit of choreo she swears will 'make them all scream.’

Eventually, she turns to her team and says to them: “We’ll call it a day. Let’s try this again tomorrow. Good job everyone.”

“You sure?” Yujin asks. “You seem like you’ve got an idea locked down. We’re not exhausted.”

“No, no. I’m sure. I just need a day to think things over. Y'all did great work, especially you, Hyunseo. Darren’s eyes have been on you the most.”

The girl seems offended by the compliment; she shoots the innocent guy a grimacing stare, likely in response for showing attitude to her captain earlier. Gesturing with her fingers that she’ll be watching him as the other girls lead themselves out the court, with Wonyoung promising she’ll follow suit shortly.

Darren merely chuckles. Shrugs off her playful retort.

“Hey, you asked me to judge, so—”

“I know. You’re actually smarter than you look.”

“Fuck you. Now can we have this court to play ball?”

“Not quite. Come with me.” She turns her gaze over to you, “You as well.”

Without hesitation or question, you both follow her out the court, and to the bathrooms—more specifically, the men’s restrooms, where you clean up after games or practice sessions.

Once there, her request becomes quite clear—she pulls you both with her into one of the showers, one that can easily fit a third or even fourth person if necessary. She even has the courtesy to shut the doors behind her.

“Please keep that door shut, won’t ya? This doesn’t leave the building. Ever.”

Both of you already know the implication. However, your friend’s moving first.

Darren’s already folded before she even said another word; unbuttoning his pants, making quick work of his shirt and the rest of the clothes follow before you even blink twice. Sometimes you forget that your teammates are teenagers still, raging hormones and all. It doesn’t help Wonyoung is just incredibly gorgeous, even more so with her new cheerleading outfit: a sky blue tube top and dangerously short shorts.

And then she makes her request clear: “I want you both to stretch me out. I mean—both my holes out. Yeah. Stretching.”

Darren blushes profusely. There’s a bit of sputtering. Even you are feeling rather warm from your cheeks, unable to mask the surprise at what she just said, almost feeling too foolish to speak.

“Alright,” is all the guy says, struggling to keep calm. Darren stands upright with a rigid back as you watch, and almost as if he’s trying to breathe normally—he walks over to her, swallowing a hard lump as he does, inching closer and closer until his raging cock is firmly pressed against her shorts. “You sure about this?”

Though his hands are already resting on her svelte waist, making the question redundant.

Wonyoung places her hand over his chest, licking her lips before meeting him in a deep, longing kiss, one that has him squeezing tighter the moment she breathes into his mouth, and pulling him into her soft body.

All the while, her eyes never leave your direction, giving you this look as if saying, 'Why aren’t you joining us yet?’

Darren tears through Wonyoung’s clothes—as in, ruins them. Brand new sets too, but he doesn’t give a fuck. Shredding through the fabric when he undresses her, till she’s down to just her drenched panties, the silky article turning see-through.

In no time, he’s hoisting her up onto a wall, her hourglass form melding perfectly against his massive muscles as his hands smooth over the curve of her ass. Wonyoung does not relent at all as she assaults his mouth, clinging onto his shoulders for stability as they fall into a groove, her feet firmly hooked onto his lower back for support.

“Need you to stretch me—” she whines out as he buries himself against the crook of her neck. “Take me—”

The command works him up; in moments, his cock is sliding past her panties, stretching them apart and spearing into her creamy cunt. A wet and guttural sound echoes loudly in the shower stall, punctuated by her strained grunt and him inhaling sharply.

“Like—that—fuck, that’s so good—”

All that while you casually set aside everyone’s clothes—not just yours, but theirs as well.

“Tell me how much you fucking want this.” He chides, tugging her lower lip and sinking his cock to the hilt, throbbing as the warmth of her pussy overwhelms him.

“I need this so badly,” she mewls, biting his lower lip, savoring her prize. “Need you both to fill me up—”

Joining them, hoisting her into the air, you slip her panties off, making her squeal. Then he pumps his hips upward as you drag her lower body down; a full thrust that rips the wind from her throat and into the spacious room.

“Oh—oh fuck—”

When his cock leaves her cunt, yours takes it place. Taking a deep stroke into her warm, wet walls, coaxing and tugging you further. So fucking tight, so fucking hot—

“Feels—so good,” she groans, letting her head rest upon the tile. She has no clue who’s fucking her right now—and it really doesn’t matter. “Keep fucking me like that—”

Before she can take a breather, however, he jams his shaft back inside, taking his turn burying himself inside her cunt. One that drives a breathy moan straight from her throat.

The sound, with Darren’s primal grunts, and her desperate, animalistic desire for more, have you addicted within seconds.

It’s why you can’t resist lurching forward, occupying the space Darren leaves behind; letting her slick, needy pussy coat and suckle in your cock.

With another firm push from below, Wonyoung’s entire body rises; and you drive home into her cunt, sinking into her drenched, swollen core. She cries out in pain and pleasure, overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled by two cocks at once.

When she meant she wanted to be stretched, this was the last thing on your mind. Literally. Probably has something to do with flexibility.

And it’s not like you’ve never been in this place before, this scenario: Wonyoung begging to be filled, to be used, to be handled like a toy. On her knees, on her fours, hiding all this filth behind some running water. She makes it harder when she’s screaming her lungs out, crying out in pleasure at every possible opportunity—her form of stress relief between games and between practices.

But nothing quite like this: sharing space with another man—a teammate no less—taking turns to split Wonyoung’s needy, wanton hole the way she wants.

“So—so fucking wide—” she mutters out, resting her hands on you for support while you’re both propping her up between your bodies, sandwiched between your cocks under the shower. “You can both use me—I can take it—”

“Sure you can handle this,” Darren challenges, only egging her on as he leaves little nips over her collarbone, fingers digging deep into the supple skin of her hip and thighs, slipping his cock deep into her at a steady rhythm.

Her soft, rounded lips part with a cry. “Harder. Faster.”

So you both oblige, taking turns as you slowly bounce Wonyoung against each other, plunging your lengths deep and fast, to the point her moans are no longer words. Just raw noise echoing down the walls, tiles and the ceiling, amplified by her hoarse cries.

Then it becomes a race; whose turn it is, to fill her pussy up to the brim, till she’s milked of her slick. Each time, Darren grins wickedly, his sweaty chest slick pressed against her toned back.

“You’re clenching so hard,” he mumbles, chuckling. Then he leaves a trail of nips on her shoulder, enough to leave marks worth covering up.

She bites her lower lip, head rolled backwards, practically drunk with pleasure. “Bet.”

“Mmm,” you hum, sinking deeper into her hot cunt. Fuck, that’s such a pretty face she’s wearing—

Wonyoung looks utterly fucked out, just a doll and hole to be used. Her eyelids are fluttering shut, and when you steal a look, you notice the heart-shaped pupils staring up at you, darkened with arousal and hunger.

A giggle escapes her, a giddy squeak that even has Darren pause in shock.

“Think you can,” you bite out, straining the last few words, the tell-tale tingle, the trembling along your spine and balls. “C'mon, Darren. Move faster.”

“You’re kidding,” the poor lad responds with exasperation. Despite that, the flush spread across his entire face and ears—and you can tell his mind’s gone off the rails too, like yours has. “Wony, you’re too fucking tight, shit—”

Then Darren’s the one buckling, hips buckling, knees losing balance and falling back against the opposite tiled walls, collapsing backward until all that’s keeping them from a crash landing is his grip onto her.

“Shit, I’m going to cum—”

But the extra bit of distance has him slamming harder against her, deeper, leaving her stretched folds quivering and swollen. Her walls seize your cock too; it has you close too, fighting to the very end, wracked and worn out from holding the pleasure down.

And it’s a beautiful, awe-inspiring sight: Wonyoung’s flushed face tilted up against the ceiling, half-lidded, fucked-out eyes in a glazed and pouty look, lower lip trembling, jaw parted, drool dripping down the side. She can’t help herself anymore, making small grunts and pants with every thrust, while her body bounces against yours.

“Want your cum—I’m cumming—” she hisses out.

Her declaration has both of you immediately folding; Darren stiffens against the cold of the tile, driving her toward the wall, only saved from complete annihilation thanks to your back taking the majority of the brunt. The impact would’ve ruined everything, but as her soft, toned flesh squishes against you, her whimpered moan of delight signals it’s far from over.

His hips rise one final time, plunging against the taut squeeze of her walls. His hands squeeze tightly around her waist, shuddering with every tremble from his core. Wonyoung shudders with pleasure, twitching with excitement, knowing he’s filling her.

“How’s that,” he chuffs between gritted teeth. His chuckle sounds more pained than triumphant.

Wonyoung rides both yours and Darren’s cock, writhing uncontrollably as a flood of his cum fills her.

You let yourself go too, sending your own surge, filling Wonyoung’s splayed, stretched cunt, slipping your cock along Darren’s into her pussy, loving every ragged and strangled, lusty and helpless groan echoing around you.

Your joint climax makes for an incomprehensible, lovely mess; no amount of showering would wash away the smell or sight, much less the proof. And that alone has the both of you giggling uncontrollably.

“Shit—you came so fucking much—damn.”

The words spill past her trembling lips, sputtered with an uncertain but hopeful glee that infects the mood and has both Darren and yourself smiling.

Then it ends with all of you sprawled atop the floor of the showers, her pussy oozing and clenching tight over and over and over, threatening to drain every drop from the both of you. And she refuses to budge until she gets her fill; it’s an unsaid demand, unspoken but firmly understood.

Her small hand rests on top of yours, idly playing and pulling her fingers against each other, even tapping playfully.

Wonyoung stares and glances expectantly up at you, with an upturned lip and a devious smirk. It’s impossible not to meet her in kind, leaning against her and basking in the mutual afterglow. Darren still tries, however, putting up a half-hearted wall, but it melts soon enough, with the three of you gradually conjoining into a sprawled mass on the cold tile floor.

“What the hell are you doing—” she chuckles out, amused by whatever Darren’s doing.

“Flexibility is important. Staying calm helps a lot,” he says, drawing another laugh from her.

“True,” she laughs out, spreading her legs wide, giving you a perfect view at how stretched and used her pussy looks. Leaking with your cum from its wet, needy hole.

Underneath the running water, you catch unwelcome noises from afar, even inside the bathroom stall, gentle rumblings from the outside. Someone else nearby, likely an unintentional trespasser who just came in to relieve themselves before it quiets down again. It only hits you now that the three of you have been here for about an hour already; time has passed so quickly, too caught up in the pleasure and her intoxicating demands, you lose track completely.

The same thoughts must’ve crossed Darren and Wonyoung, because they burst into silent laughter, looking at each other, exchanging smirks and holding their palms.

“This is wrong,” he remarks. He looks her over: soaking wet and a mess, eyes glazed and lips red. Yet her grin has not faded. “Jeez—”

“But so good.”

And that makes her smile even bigger. It’s impossible for her not to respond the same way, meeting him halfway.

He carries Wonyoung in his arms before plopping back down to the floor, ready for her to bounce on it again. She has no objections, lining up her pussy on top of his softened, but recovering cock.

“Told you, I wanna get stretched,” she growls, her cunt squeezing over his. A bit of his cum leaks down the sides. “And I think I’ve found the perfect partners to help.”

“Acting like there’s a third person in this,” he jokingly remarks, intentionally avoiding eye contact, but the target is clear. “Where the fuck are you, man?”

Leaning against the shower door, you catch on right away and rejoin them, pumping your cock back to hardness as she casually bounces on his. The sight is unbearably hot: her full breasts spilling out of their confines, swinging with every plop and roll. The smooth and perfectly toned muscles on her ass rippling with every thrust. Every stroke and wave brings a pleasant sound, a juicy squelch and pop.

But not without her working her ass off, letting out sharp breaths between the struggle.

“I swear you’ve gotten bigger. Surely you didn't—”

“Nope. Been working out again now that the season’s back,” she interjects, before being reduced to a moaning, whiny mess with Darren’s shaft.

Wonyoung grips his pecs tightly for support, taking deep breaths between every plunge. Her pink nipples drag up and down his glistening, firm chest.

It makes your mouth water. Even though you do this on the regular, it feels like weeks since you’ve touched her. Since you’ve tasted her.

“Having fun watching?” she turns her head toward you, her hair cascades down her body, smiling widely in a daze, eyes fluttering open and closed. “Why not join in?”

“Not like you fuck me every other day—” you chide, pumping harder and faster, slapping your cock against her pretty lips, letting cum drip down her bottom lip.

“Christ—I can see why—” he grunts out, thrusting into her faster, with her bouncing harder in return. “How are you this good—fuck—”

You cup Wonyoung’s cheek and lower yourself, tilting her jaw upward, gazing into her soft and vulnerable eyes; and before long, her body crumples before you, with her mouth gently prying apart, welcoming your needy cock.

Sinking further down, you love how her face contorts, flaring and throat rippling over and over and over again, mewling as best she can as your thick length pushes through her slender neck. The deep, vibrating, whimpers send delightful tremors down your cock.

When you pull back, she finally takes a long and deep breath; not before tugging on your shaft, spilling drool around your girth and licking as she can along every inch, letting her saliva and yours swirl along and drip down the rest. Her tongue is deft and agile, running between the ridges.

Her cheeks turn a deeper shade, and the girl gets to work on Darren’s cock again, raising her hip in order to accommodate you both. You catch a wink as a result, and hear a chuckle from behind her, and by the way she winks playfully back, the way her hips tilt—it’s safe to assume he does the same.

“Trying to practice—some flexibility—ugh—” she mutters out, adjusting as she resets her head towards him for a second before returning to you.

And you immediately take advantage, plunging your cock deep into her throat again, letting her embrace the full length of your shaft without hesitation. She doesn’t gag, doesn’t waver; if anything, she welcomes it with open arms—or open cheeks in this case, and you start pumping into her.

Inch by inch, as she sucks hungrily. A growing bulge, something of a very faint outline, forms in her throat when you take control. Pulling on her hair, lifting her just so slightly so he can see his cock enter and emerge from her core, too engrossed in his own pleasure to really notice or care.

Her silken and slick tongue swirls over your length, wetly lavishing every inch; soft hands encircle your base and bob back and forth, coating you in sticky threads of her spit.

Wonyoung opens her mouth slightly wider, angling herself better for easier access. Not before letting out a wanton squeal, Darren arching against the wall and speeding his cock up, ramming senselessly into her cunt. His strength becomes your gain; you thrust deeply, sinking until your balls slap wetly on her chin, and watch her suckle on your base.

At that moment, it strikes you, like a fucking epiphany that makes your head light and spin—

Because that’s exactly what is going on in this situation. You’re currently hooking up with the leader of the cheerleading team, the captain no less. It doesn’t matter that you’re sharing her with someone you’re hardly acquainted with; they probably won’t be a stranger any longer, given that he is your teammate.

Regardless, her soft, vulnerable skin flushes before you, as her eyes fall into a half-lidded gaze; she smiles, tensing and relaxing her throat in response.

Her puffy, pouty lips strain, parting open as she struggles, panting sharply between bouts, working diligently at giving the best experience as possible.

The sound she makes is nothing short of ecstatic, sucking hungrily and gently along the length.

So you remove yourself from her throat, gently extricate your slick cock from her grasp, and stroke yourself inches from her face.

“Shit—gonna fucking cum again—” Darren cries out, grunting desperately as he rushes into a second climax, unwilling to bear it any longer.

And it makes for a perfect opportunity: as you pump and slap your cock against her face over and over, letting her taste a hint of your tip but leaving her susceptible to his cunt. She can’t concentrate, can’t really open her eyes and kiss the tip as she’d been doing before—especially when his hips ram her tight walls, stretching the poor little hole till she’s sore and begging for more.

Which is exactly what she does.

“Fuck, Darren—fucking cum in me—please—”

You can only watch and soak in delight witnessing him buck his hips as he starts to empty his balls again into her. Wonyoung rocks back and forth in an uneven, desperate rhythm, grinding hard, pleading for more; a shaky groan leaves both her and Darren as they cum after another. He sounds more exasperated, even though it’s barely the second round, struggling under her insatiable desire.

And while he unloads in her womb, you finally do the same, filling Wonyoung’s face with a few perfectly placed streaks of cum, marking her temple, nose, and especially her pretty lips. She takes it all without complaint, revels in it even—such a fucking dirty girl.

Your shared climaxes aren’t at all synched; while his finishes abruptly and fast, yours draw out a while, long spurts filling her soft cheek, catching it on her long lashes and between the soft gap between her lip and teeth.

Darren thrusts into her a final time, emptying the last bits of his cum inside. Then he finally relaxes.

Wonyoung lifts a hand shakily to the bridge of her nose, tracing a finger where your cum struck, cleaning it away; eyes closed, she licks her digits slowly. Then, she delicately swirls her tongue along the rest of her lips, collecting your leftovers, then swallowing it down.

When she catches the rest of the line you painted, it becomes the most delicate thing; almost unbearable, knowing she’s dragging a finger between the crack of her upper lip and over her button nose, softly rubbing as she relishes every drop.

When she opens her eyes, a trickle has traveled down, stained across the expanse of her creamy bosom; a rivulet over her sensitive nipples, and toward her quivering abs. But her ravenous grin does not change, eager for more.

Darren looks over her, defeated.

“You can’t keep doing this to me, Wony—how long are we even planning to—” he jokes.

Wonyoung beams triumphantly, throwing her hair over her shoulder. And you’re so happy, you could probably explode just from watching her be satisfied.

“I’m thinking of trying some new routines for tomorrow. And you’ll both help me figure that out right here.”