Remi, River and Rani
Rani's last words hang between them.
Remi's fingers remain pressed inside Rani's cunt, feeling the pulse and flutter of her around them, the slick heat that has gathered there from nothing but storytelling and proximity.
Rani's camisole strap still dangles off her shoulder, her nipple visible, dark and peaked against the thin fabric.
River sits with her knees drawn up, the oversized jersey pooling around her thighs. Her freckles stand out livid against the flush that has taken her face, her chest heaving in shallow bursts.
The tequila bottle sits on the coffee table, half-empty, catching the faint streetlight through the blinds.
"Your turn," Rani repeats.
She tightens around Remi's fingers deliberately, a flutter of muscle that makes Remi's breath catch.
"Unless you'd rather I keep going."
Remi withdraws her hand slowly, deliberately, dragging her fingers through Rani's wetness before bringing them to her own lips. She tastes her—salt and musk and something faintly sweet—and watches Rani's pupils blow wide in the dim light.
"New game," Remi says, her voice carrying the same command she uses on the field.
She wipes her fingers on her shorts, leaving a dark smear on the cotton.
"We tell our first sex toy stories. What opened us up at eighteen. Rani starts."
Rani's laugh is breathy, surprised. She adjusts her camisole but doesn't fix the strap, leaving her breast partially exposed.
"You're giving orders now?"
"Someone has to." Remi leans back, her cropped sweatshirt riding up to show the ridge of her hip, the flat plane of her stomach.
Her toenails, chipped navy, catch the light as she tucks one leg beneath her.
"River's too busy blushing herself purple, and you're—" she gestures at Rani's obvious state of arousal, "—distracted."
River makes a sound of protest, but it's weak.
She reaches for the tequila, pouring a shot she doesn't drink.
"I'm not—I'm listening."
"Then listen to this," Rani says.
She settles back against the couch cushions, her flannel pants rasping against the fabric. One hand rests on her own thigh, fingers tapping a slow rhythm.
"I was eighteen. Just graduated. My mother went out of town for a conference, and I had the house to myself."
She pauses, letting the anticipation build. Remi watches her face, the way her lips part slightly, the flutter of her pulse in her throat.
"I ordered it online. Took three weeks to arrive. A small bullet vibrator, pink, about the size of my thumb."
Rani holds up her thumb, demonstrating. "I charged it while I was at my summer job—lifeguarding at the Y—and when I came home, I locked every door. Drew all the curtains. Took a shower first, made myself wait."
Her fingers have stopped tapping. They're resting higher on her thigh now, near the crease where her leg meets her hip.
"I lay on my bed with just a towel. Turned it on the lowest setting. Held it against my—" she glances at River, whose freckles seem to have multiplied in the dim light, "—my clit. Through the towel at first. I was already wet from anticipation, from the waiting. But the fabric dulled it too much. So, I moved the towel."
Rani's breath has gone shallow. Her chest rises and falls beneath the thin camisole, her visible nipple stiff and dark.
"I put it directly on my exposed pink pea. The lowest setting, but it felt—" she shudders, a full-body tremor that Remi watches track down her spine, "—intense. Like my nerves were too exposed. I had to pull it away, then bring it back. Again, and again. Teasing myself. Building it up."
She laughs, breathless. "I didn't know about edging then. I just knew I wanted it to last. I kept myself right there, right on the edge, for almost an hour. The vibrator would die, I'd charge it for ten minutes, start again. My mother was coming home the next day. I wanted to use it until I couldn't walk. Fuck, it was good, so good."
Rani's hand has moved. It's resting between her legs now, pressing against the flannel of her pyjama pants. She doesn't seem to notice, or care.
"Finally, I couldn't wait anymore. I turned it to the highest setting—there were only three—and I held it there. Right on my clit. No teasing, no pulling away. Just constant, buzzing pressure."
Her voice has dropped to a whisper, rough and intimate.
"I came in about thirty seconds. It was—intense. My legs shook so hard I kicked my lamp off the nightstand. I couldn't stop. I kept the vibrator there, made myself take it, until I was crying. Tears streaming down my face, my cunt pulsing and empty, needing something inside so badly I—"
She breaks off, her chest heaving. Her hand is moving now, rubbing slow circles against herself through her pants.
"That's my first toy story," she finishes, her voice barely audible.
"Small. Pink. Destroyed me completely."
The room is silent except for the refrigerator's hum and Rani's ragged breathing. River hasn't moved, her shot of tequila still untouched, her face crimson even in the dim light.
Remi shifts, her shorts riding her thighs.
"Cute," she says, and her voice carries an edge of competition. "But small gets boring fast."
She leans forward, her cropped sweatshirt gapping slightly, showing the swell of her breasts.
"My first toy was a dildo. Not a bullet. Not a beginner's kit. A proper cock."
Rani's hand stills between her legs. River finally moves, bringing the tequila to her lips and drinking without tasting it.
"I was well past eighteen too," Remi continues. "But I'd already been with—" she counts on her fingers, "—four women, two men. I knew what I wanted. And I wanted something that would fill me."
She shifts again, crossing her legs, her shorts pulling tight against her crotch. The chipped navy on her toenails catches the light as she flexes her foot.
"I ordered it from a specialty site. Paid extra for rush shipping. It arrived in a plain brown box, no markings, and I opened it in my dorm room with my roommate at class."
Remi's voice has taken on a storytelling rhythm, each word deliberate and weighted.
"Nine inches. Veined. Suction cup base. Realistic colour, that mottled pink-brown of actual skin."
She holds her hands apart, demonstrating the girth.
"Thick enough that my fingers couldn't touch when I wrapped my hand around it. I held it in my hands for ten minutes, just feeling the weight. The rubbery give of it. The way it bent slightly when I pressed the tip against my palm."
River has set the tequila down. She's leaning forward slightly, her oversized jersey slipping off one shoulder, showing the strap of her bra underneath.
"I was wet before I even touched myself," Remi continues. "Just from holding it. Knowing what it would feel like. I'd been with men before, but never one that big. Never one that would stretch me like I knew this would."
She pauses, letting the anticipation build. Rani has withdrawn her hand from between her legs, her attention fixed entirely on Remi's face.
"I stripped completely. Lay on my bed with my legs spread, the dildo beside me. I wanted to see myself in the mirror on my closet door. Watch myself take it."
Remi's voice drops, intimate and raw.
"I started with my fingers. Two, then three, opening myself up. I was so wet I was dripping onto my sheets. But I knew fingers wouldn't be enough. I wanted the stretch. The ache of it."
She shifts on the couch, her shorts visibly damp at the crotch now, a dark patch spreading slowly.
"I pressed the tip against my entrance. It felt huge. Impossible. I had to work it in slowly, rocking my hips, forcing myself to relax. It burned. God, it burned. But I wanted more. I kept pushing, watching in the mirror as my pussy stretched around it, pink and glistening, taking inch after inch."
Rani makes a sound, low in her throat. River's hand has moved to her own thigh, resting there uncertainly.
"When I finally took the whole thing, I just lay there. Feeling full. Complete. My legs were shaking. I could feel my pulse in my coochie, throbbing around the thickness inside me."
Remi's eyes are half-closed, lost in the memory.
"Then I started to move. Slowly at first. Just small rocks of my hips. But I needed more. I pulled it almost all the way out, then slammed it back in. Again. And again. Harder each time. Watching with my legs spread in the mirror. The sound of it—wet, thick, sucky—filled my room. I was grunting with each thrust. Not pretty. Not controlled. Just base need."
She opens her eyes, focusing on River's flushed face, then Rani's parted lips.
"I fucked myself with that dildo for forty minutes. Came three times. The last one I screamed into my pillow, my whole-body convulsing, my cunt clamping down so hard I thought I'd push the dildo out. But I kept it inside. Kept fucking myself through the aftershocks, oversensitive and sobbing and still wanting more."
The room is silent. Remi's chest heaves beneath her cropped sweatshirt, her shorts dark with her own arousal.
She meets Rani's eyes, challenge burning in her gaze.
"Small vibrators are for beginners," she says, her voice rough.
"I wanted to be fucked. Really fucked. And I made sure I was."
Rani's laugh is shaky, aroused. She shifts on the couch, her camisole slipping further, both breasts now visible, nipples hard and dark.
"Competitive even about this," she murmurs. "I should have known."
River hasn't moved, her hand still frozen on her thigh. Her jersey has slipped further, showing more of her bra strap, the jut of her collarbone. Her freckles stand out like paint splatters against her crimson cheeks.
"River," Remi says, and her voice softens slightly, a coaxing edge.
"Your turn. Unless you want to forfeit."
River's throat works. She looks between them—Rani with her breasts exposed and her hand still trembling, Remi with her shorts dark and her eyes sharp with challenge.
"I—" River starts, then stops. She reaches for the tequila, drinks it without tasting, coughs.
"I don't—mine's different."
"Different how?" Rani asks, her voice warm, inviting. She shifts closer to River, her flannel pants rustling.
"Tell us, Riv."
River looks at her hands, the chipped polish on her nails, the freckles scattered across her knuckles. When she speaks, her voice is barely audible.
"I didn't buy it. It was—" she glances up, her eyes meeting Remi's, then darting away, "—it was Jason's. From before. He didn't know I found it."
The silence stretches. Even the refrigerator seems to pause its hum.
"A double-ended dildo," River continues, the words rushing out now, unstoppable.
"Purple. Flexible. Like—" she holds her hands apart, more than a foot, "—this long. Both ends shaped like real cocks, but one was thicker. He'd used it with his ex. They'd—" she swallows, her throat clicking, "—they'd both take it. Same time. Fuck themselves on it together."
Rani's breath catches audibly. Remi leans forward, her elbows on her knees, her cute shorts pulling tight against her crotch.
"I found it in his closet," River continues, her voice steadier now, finding its rhythm.
"Behind his winter coats. In a shoebox with lube and a harness I didn't understand yet. I was—" she laughs, breathless, "—I was furious at first. Jealous. Thought about confronting him. But then—" she pauses, her hand moving to her own chest, resting over her heart, "—then I was curious. I wanted to know what it felt like. What they'd done. Why he kept it."
She shifts on the couch, her jersey riding up to show the elastic of her underwear, the pale skin of her hip.
"I waited until he was at practice. Took it out of the box—" her fingers curl, remembering the weight, "—it was heavier than I expected. Flexible but firm. The rubber was soft, almost velvety. I washed it first, standing in his bathroom, my hands shaking. Then I took it back to his bedroom."
Rani has shifted closer, her bare arm pressed against River's shoulder. Remi hasn't moved, her eyes fixed on River's face, her own breath shallow.
"I stripped completely," River continues, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Lay on his bed on my back. I wanted to see myself in the mirror on his closet door— have a peek like you," she glances at Remi, recognising the same detail from her own story, and something passes between them, "—watch myself take it. Both ends."
She pauses, her throat working. Her hand has moved from her chest to her thigh, resting there uncertainly.
"I started with the smaller end," she resumes, her voice steadier. "Coated it in lube, the clear kind that gets warm when you rub it. I was—" she laughs, breathless, "—I was already wet. Just from holding it. Knowing what I was going to do. I'd never put anything that big inside me, let alone—"
She stops, glances at Remi, then Rani. Both are watching her with parted lips, flushed chests, obvious arousal.
"I pressed it against my entrance," River continues, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"The smaller end first. It felt—huge. Impossible. I had to work it in slowly, rocking my hips, forcing myself to relax. It burned. But I wanted more. I kept pushing, watching in the mirror as my fanny stretched around it, pink and glistening, taking inch after inch."
She's breathing hard now, her chest heaving beneath the oversized jersey. Her hand has moved higher on her thigh, fingers pressing into the muscle.
"When I finally took the whole smaller end," she continues, her voice rough, "I just lay there. Feeling full. Complete. My legs were shaking. I could feel my pulse in my cunt, throbbing around the thickness inside me."
She meets Remi's eyes, something challenging in her gaze.
"But that wasn't enough. I wanted the other end too."
Rani makes a sound, low in her throat. Her hand has found its way back between her legs, pressing against the flannel of her pants.
"I lifted my hips," River continues, her voice steadier now, finding its rhythm. "Bent my knees. Reached behind me with my other hand, the one not holding the dildo steady. Coated the thicker end in more lube—so much lube, I was dripping it onto Jason's sheets, not caring, not thinking about anything but taking it."
She pauses, her throat working. Her fingers have crept higher, pressing against the elastic of her underwear.
"I pressed the thicker end against my—" she stops, glances at Remi, then forces the word out, "—my arse. I'd never done that before. Never even touched myself there. But I was so full already, so stretched, so desperate for more. I wanted to feel both ends inside me. Wanted to be stuffed."
Her voice has dropped to a whisper, barely audible.
"It burned," she continues. "God, it made me ache. I had to work it in so slowly, stopping every few seconds to breathe, to relax, to force my body to open. But I kept watching myself in the mirror. Watching my cunt stretched around one end, my arse slowly taking the other. Seeing myself like that—so full, so open, so completely used—made me desperate for more. Fuck I really hit slut mode."
Rani's hand is moving now, small circles against herself through her pants. Remi hasn't moved, her eyes fixed on River's face, her own breath shallow and fast.
"When I finally took both ends," River says, her voice rough with memory, "I just lay there. Trembling. My legs were spread so wide, my hips lifted, both holes stuffed. I could feel the dildo flexing inside me, the two ends pressing against each other through the thin wall of muscle. Every breath I took, I felt it shift. Every beat of my heart, I felt it pulse."
She pauses, her hand finally moving beneath her underwear, fingers pressing against her own wetness. She doesn't seem to notice, or care.
"I started to move," she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Slowly at first. Just rocking my hips, feeling both ends slide inside me; the friction was so good I was sobbing. Then faster. Harder. I was fucking myself on both ends, using my hands to hold the middle of the dildo, forcing it deeper with every thrust. The sound of it—wet, and squelchy—filled Jason's room. I was grunting with each push. Pushing and pushing. Taking every ounce of pleasure filling me."
Her fingers are moving now, sliding through her own wetness, pressing against her clit. Her hips have lifted slightly, pressing into her own hand.
"I came so hard I nearly blacked out," she whispers. "My whole-body convulsing, both holes clamping down on the dildo so hard I thought I'd push it out. But I kept fucking myself through it, oversensitive and sobbing and still desperate for more. I came twice more before I finally stopped, my cunt and arse both aching, dripping, completely used. I couldn't walk properly for two days. Had to make excuses to Jason about why I was limping."
She falls silent, her chest heaving, her hand still moving between her legs. The room is thick with the smell of arousal—Rani's earlier wetness, River's obvious state, Remi's own scent rising from her damp shorts.
"Fuck," Rani breathes, her own hand still pressed between her legs.
"Fuck, River."
River finally stills her hand, her fingers glistening in the dim light.
She doesn't withdraw them, just holds them there, pressed against herself.
"I told you mine was different."
Remi shifts on the couch, her shorts now visibly dark at the crotch, a spreading stain of her own arousal. Her nipples are hard beneath her cropped sweatshirt, pressing against the fabric.
"Double-ended," she says, her voice carrying that competitive edge.
"Both holes. That's—" she pauses, searching for the word, "—committed."
"Committed," River laughs, breathless. "That's one word for it."
Rani has shifted closer to River, her bare shoulder pressing against River's jersey-clad one. Her camisole has slipped further, both breasts now partially exposed, the thin fabric doing nothing to conceal her state of arousal.
"I think," she says, her voice that deliberate, controlled purr, "that we need to establish what 'unbelievable' means in this game."
"Unbelievable?" Remi's eyebrow arches.
Rani turns to face her, her dark hair falling across her flushed cheeks.
"River's story was intense. Extreme, even. But it's not—" she pauses, choosing her words carefully, "—it's not impossible to believe. A determined eighteen-year-old with privacy and motivation could manage what she described. Difficult, yes. Improbable, perhaps. But not physically impossible."
She shifts on the couch, her flannel pants rustling, her hand finally withdrawing from between her legs to gesture with her fingers, glistening in the dim light.
"What I'm proposing," Rani continues, "is that we push further. Each story should be slightly more intense than the last. Slightly more—" she smiles, that deliberate, sensual curve of her lips, "—unbelievable. Until we reach the point where one of us can't continue. Where the story becomes too much. Too extreme. Too—"
"Too what?" River interrupts, her voice small but curious.
Rani turns to her, her dark eyes catching the streetlight through the blinds. "Too true," she says softly. "Or too false. The game ends when we can't tell anymore. When the unbelievable becomes indistinguishable from the real."
Remi shifts on the couch, her competitive nature clearly warring with her arousal.
"So, we escalate," she says, her voice rough. "Each story bigger than the last."
"Yes," Rani confirms. "Each scenario pushing further. Until—" she pauses, her smile widening, "—until someone asks the question that ends the game."
"What question?" River asks, her hand still resting between her legs, fingers glistening.
Rani leans back, her camisole slipping further, her breasts almost fully exposed now. She doesn't adjust it. Her dark hair pools against the couch cushions, her flushed chest rising and falling with each breath.
"We'll all know, and yes, we are telling butthole stories next?"