Once Eric left, Roxy slid closer to Esther at the table, raising a hand to catch the waiter's eye. "Another round!". Then, she turned to her, with a mischievous smile. "So, you like Eric?" she asked directly. Esther laughed. It was a question from his best friend, so it was serious, although neither of them was very sober with so much alcohol in them. "Yes... a lot... but I'm in a complicated situation in my life to be in a relationship." Roxy scoffed, not taking that seriously. "Eric seems superficial, but he's obsessed with justice, good, and protecting people. He wants to be the Goddess's hero and be an adventurer. It's not like he's going to want to marry you and leave everything." Esther nodded, thoughtful. "And you, do you like Eric?" Roxy laughed hard. "No! Not at all. And besides, it's obvious that Eric likes you." "How do you know?" Esther asked, intrigued. "Because before, he spent all day looking at my ass, making comments to see if I'd give in and we'd have something. But since he met you, nothing. I almost thought I'd gotten ugly," said Roxy, laughing. "That's impossible. You're beautiful," Esther said sincerely. Roxy leaned in closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Do you like me?". Then, with a spark in her eye, she asked: "And do you like girls too?".
Esther didn't know what to say. Roxy moved closer, her breath smelling of beer. "I like both men and women." Esther was getting too red with shame, and the images of Lyra naked and how she had gotten excited with her contact made her answer clear. Roxy hugged her while taking a sip from her mug, and despite the closeness, as if it were a switch, the redhead turned off the intimacy and sensuality, leaving her calm. "I would totally sleep with you, but don't tell Eric or he'll ask for a threesome," she said laughing. Esther also drank, despite already being quite drunk. And she dropped the bomb, without anesthesia. "I'm a virgin." Roxy spat out some of the beer in surprise. Esther covered her face with her hands, and Roxy, wiping her mouth, asked: "Does Eric know?" Esther nodded, and Roxy started twisting with laughter. When she finally calmed down a bit, she asked: "Are you going to make him wait long?" "I have no idea," Esther admitted. It took Roxy a while to calm down, and then she leaned toward her, with a genuinely curious expression. "Aren't you looking to get fucked? Why do you dress like this, with your underwear almost in sight and your tits almost out?". "It's a long story," Esther said, uncomfortable. "The clothes are a family tradition." Roxy didn't believe her. "I don't believe you, nobody dresses like that for tradition." Esther sighed. "Someday I'll explain it, but I can't yet." Roxy accepted it, but couldn't help one last question. "Have you ever kissed a girl?" "No," said Esther. Roxy smiled. "Another day we have to kiss. And you have to let me touch those tits. Not today, because we have too much beer breath." Esther, still drunk, found it hard to be so direct, but she said yes. "Do you want to dance a little more before we can't walk?" Roxy asked. Esther accepted and they got up to go dance.
They were about to go dance, having stood up and taken two steps away from their table, when Keith appeared, the blonde guy, accompanied by a muscular young man, almost two meters tall, with short, dark brown hair and hard features. His name was Kalabar. They each had two beers in their hands. "Where are you ladies going?" Keith asked with an easy smile. "Why don't we all have a drink together?" Esther didn't get to answer, but Roxy accepted immediately. "Of course! There's always room for more beer." They returned to the table, and Esther ended up sitting between the two men, but Keith only had eyes for Roxy. The men started chatting with them, asking what they did. "So, what do you two do here besides drink and drive us all crazy?" Keith started, his gaze fixed on Roxy. Roxy laughed. "We're adventurers. I'm the fire-crazy, and she's the healer." "Fire-crazy?" Keith repeated, fascinated. "Sounds dangerous and... exciting." Kalabar, beside him, looked at Esther with his impassive expression. "Healing is a useful job. Good for you," he said in his deep voice. "Really?" Esther said, feeling a bit braver with the beer. "I thought all men only thought about fighting." Kalabar just shrugged and took a sip of his beer. He lifted his shirt, showing a muscular torso and a large scarred wound. Esther caressed it with her finger, understanding why he said what he said. Keith leaned toward Roxy. "And are your skills limited to combat? Or do you have other... talents?" Roxy returned the smile. "Depends on what you're willing to risk." The alcohol kept flowing. The conversation grew louder, more personal.
Keith and Roxy began a duel of flirting, full of innuendos and provocations. Esther, seated between the silent giant and the boisterous flirtation, felt increasingly like a decoration. Kalabar didn't talk much, but when he did, it was to ask Esther a direct and simple question, to which she responded with monosyllables or nods. The alcohol was the true host of the night. Esther, no longer used to drinking and still feeling the effects of the drugs, was getting drunk at an alarming rate. The voices became a distant murmur, Roxy and Keith's laughter sounded like discordant bells, and the world began to spin gently. But she didn't pass out. She remained seated, conscious, but in an alcoholic haze. It was then that Keith decided to take action. He leaned into Roxy's space, the scent of beer on his breath mingling with the cheap perfume of the tavern, and captured her lips in a kiss that was anything but private. His tongue played at the edge of her mouth, a deliberate tease, a wet muscle darting out just enough for Esther and Kalabar to witness their intimacy through the tavern's dim lighting. This wasn't a kiss of passion but a performance, calculated to arouse and provoke, every movement choreographed for their audience. Keith's hand slid down Roxy's back, a slow, possessive journey that ended with his fingers digging into the generous curve of her ass through the thin fabric of her trousers. Then, with a boldness that made Roxy's breath catch, he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of her pants. Roxy arched into his touch, a low moan escaping her throat that was half pleasure, half exhibitionism. With a swift motion, Keith hooked his finger around the thin red strap of her thong - the one she deliberately wore outside her pants as a defiant statement - and tugged it upward. The elastic snapped against her skin, a sharp sound in the noise of the tavern, as he displayed her choice of underwear to their companions. Esther watched, transfixed, as Roxy responded in kind, her hand sliding to Keith's crotch to palm his growing erection through his trousers. Her pink tongue emerged from between her lips, extended in a blatant challenge to the others, a silent invitation to join or simply to watch. Keith met her gaze, his eyes dark with lust, and leaned in to suck on her offered tongue. What began as playful teasing escalated into something ferocious and raw, their mouths devouring each other in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. The sounds of their breathing, of lips parting and meeting again, filled the space between Esther and Kalabar as the erotic spectacle unfolded mere feet away - a live performance of desire that transformed their corner table into a private stage.
Kalabar, watching the display of Keith and Roxy, assumed Esther was just as easy and passed his hand over her shoulder, hugging her. Esther, drunk, let him do it, and his hand went down to her breast, caressing it inside her clothes. She didn't resist, just moaned with pleasure, letting herself go. Kalabar smiled and caressed Esther's face, bringing it closer to him. He kissed her and she reciprocated, enjoying the soft touch of his tongue entering her lips. Given the size of his body, his mouth, and his tongue, Esther had to open her mouth to let his tongue invade her. Kalabar's hand went to her thigh, caressing the inside part. She, too drunk, drugged, and excited, opened her legs, letting herself go, and Kalabar caressed her sex over her underwear, noticing it was soaking through the thin fabric, a damp testament to her surrender. Esther moaned several times, each sound a soft, breathy whisper that escaped her parted lips, showing how Kalabar's fingers were dominating her through the layer of cloth, pressing and circling with a practiced rhythm that made her hips begin to move in time with his touch. Her body, though pliant, trembled with a mix of alcohol-induced haze and a raw, unfamiliar desire that coursed through her veins like wildfire.
"Good girl," he told her, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against her ear, and she smiled instinctively, a dazed, vacant expression spreading across her face as her eyes struggled to focus on anything but the overwhelming sensations he was eliciting from her willing, intoxicated form.. He asked her if she wanted him to touch her, while he kissed her like Roxy was doing with her man, letting their tongues meet outside their lips. She begged him to do it, spreading her legs even more, her voice a hushed, desperate whisper that barely rose above the tavern's din. The coarse fabric of her skirt rustled against the worn wooden bench as she shifted, exposing more of her thighs to his touch. Kalabar's fingers paused at the edge of her underwear, a thin barrier of damp cotton that did little to hide the heat radiating from her core. He could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse against his fingertips, a frantic drumbeat of arousal and intoxication. The scent of her excitement mingled with the stale beer and tobacco smoke that hung heavy in the air, creating a heady cocktail that clouded his senses. With a smirk playing on his lips, Kalabar hooked his thumb under the elastic band, his knuckles brushing against her slick folds as he slowly pulled the fabric aside. Esther's hips lifted instinctively, a silent invitation that he was all too happy to accept. The sudden rush of cool air against her heated flesh made her gasp, her fingers digging into the wood beneath her as she braced herself for his touch. Kalabar's other hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as he leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.
"Patience, little one," he murmured, the words a low rumble that vibrated through her entire body. "I'll give you what you need.". He smiled and moved her underwear aside while playing with her clit, and she moaned. He told her to open her mouth, look up, and stick out her tongue, and she obeyed. One of the fingers entered Esther's pussy, and Kalabar noticed her intact hymen. Surprised, he stopped, but at that moment, he didn't care. She instinctively squeezed his fingers, seeking more pleasure, and he ended up taking it out and told her to suck it, so she could taste her own juices. She obeyed, her eyelids fluttering closed as she leaned forward, her tongue tentatively darting out to meet his finger. The tip of her tongue traced the contour of his digit, mapping the ridges of his knuckles and the curve of his nail before wrapping around it with an unexpected eagerness. Her movements were clumsy at first, a drunken attempt at imitation, but soon they took on a more purposeful rhythm, as if she were indeed licking a cock rather than his finger. Kalabar watched, his breath catching in his throat as Esther's pink tongue slid against his skin, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. He slowly withdrew his finger, then pushed it back in, going deeper this time, exploring the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. Esther responded by opening wider, her tongue swirling around his finger with increasing enthusiasm, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she applied gentle suction. The sound of her mouth working, a soft, wet noise mixed with her muffled whimpers, was barely audible above the tavern's din, yet it seemed to dominate Kalabar's senses. He could feel the slight roughness of her tongue against his skin, the way her saliva coated his finger, making it slick and slippery as he continued to move it in and out, mimicking the act she was so eagerly performing. Her hands, which had been resting limply on her thighs, now clenched into fists, her knuckles turning white as the intensity of her arousal grew. The praise seemed to ignite something within her, a flicker of recognition that she was doing this "right," whatever that meant in her current state. The corners of her mouth turned up in a dazed smile around his finger, her eyes still closed, lost in the haze of alcohol, drugs, and the unfamiliar pleasure coursing through her veins. The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed, a small, involuntary action that sent a jolt of excitement through Kalabar's body. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her body trembled slightly with each movement of his finger, each whispered word of encouragement.
Esther's compliance was absolute, her willingness to please him overriding any remaining reservations or inhibitions she might have had. As he continued to move his finger, exploring every corner of her mouth, Esther's breathing grew more ragged, her chest rising and falling with increasing rapidity. The praise seemed to be fueling her desire, each "good girl" a spark that ignited the fire burning within her. She was lost in the moment, completely focused on the task at hand, her entire being concentrated on the sensation of his finger in her mouth and the words of approval that followed her every action. The tavern around them faded into a blur of noise and light, irrelevant to the intimate exchange taking place between them on the worn wooden bench. In that moment, there was only the taste of her own juices on his finger, the feel of his digit exploring her mouth, and the heady rush of pleasure that came with being told she was a "good girl." He ordered her to open her mouth again and stick out her tongue, and taking advantage of the height difference, even while sitting, Kalabar slowly let saliva fall from his mouth into hers, and she, obeying, did nothing, letting part of it fall on her tongue and the rest trickle down her chin. Too dazed and excited, despite being in public, her hand went to her sex, to stimulate her clit and masturbate alone. "Savor it and swallow," Kalabar ordered, and Esther, while touching herself and moaning, obeyed. Then he told her to show him if it was true, and she opened her mouth again, showing him how she had swallowed that accumulation of saliva. "Good girl," he told her again, and this time he caressed her chin as if it were his.
Esther tilted her head back slightly, her lips parting to reveal the glistening pink of her tongue, which she extended slowly, deliberately demonstrating her compliance. The dim tavern light caught on the wet surface, a testament to her obedience. A thin string of saliva remained, connecting her tongue to her lower lip for a moment before she closed her mouth with a soft, wet sound, swallowing visibly. Her eyes, half-lidded and glazed with intoxication, met his, seeking approval, craving the validation that only his praise could provide. The rough calluses on Kalabar's thumb brushed against the smooth, delicate skin of her chin, a stark contrast that sent shivers down her spine. His touch was possessive yet gentle, a claim that made her feel both cherished and utterly owned. She leaned into his caress, her body responding instinctively, a soft sigh escaping her lips as his fingers traced the curve of her jawline, mapping the contours of her face as if committing them to memory. The tavern's cacophony faded into a distant hum, the world narrowing to the space between them, to the rhythm of her breathing and the steady beat of his heart against her ear. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the warmth of his hand on her skin, the weight of his gaze upon her, and the intoxicating promise of more to come. Roxy, in the end, was a bit sleepy from so many kisses, groping, and alcohol, and Keith turned to look at Esther and Kalabar. Kalabar's smile was a slow, predatory curve, his lips parting to reveal teeth stained from cheap wine and tobacco. He turned his head, his gaze finding Keith across the table, and with a slight tilt of his chin, he gestured toward Esther. "Look at this one, she's a mess," he drawled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the worn wooden bench they shared. Without waiting for a response, Kalabar turned his attention back to the woman beside him, his fingers—rough and calloused from years of manual labor—parting her lips. He inserted two fingers into her mouth, pressing them against her tongue, and Esther's reaction was immediate and uninhibited. She closed her lips around his digits, her tongue swirling around them as she sucked with an eagerness that bordered on desperation. Her cheeks hollowed with the effort, and soft, muffled moans escaped her throat, the sound mixing with the tavern's general din of laughter, clanking tankards, and distant music. Esther's left hand, which had been resting on her thigh, moved with deliberate slowness to the hem of her short skirt, her fingers disappearing beneath the dark navy fabric. Her hips shifted slightly on the bench, pressing forward as she began to torment her own clit, her touch becoming more insistent with each passing moment. Her breathing grew ragged, her chest rising and falling in rapid bursts, and her eyes—half-lidded and glazed with intoxication—remained fixed on Kalabar's face, seeking approval, craving validation that only his gaze could provide. The air around them grew thick with the scent of arousal, mingling with the tavern's omnipresent odor of stale beer, wood smoke, and unwashed bodies. Kalabar's fingers continued their exploration of her mouth, sliding deeper until Esther's gag reflex was triggered, her body convulsing slightly as she fought to accommodate him. Her moans grew louder, more urgent, her hips grinding against her own hand as she chased her pleasure with single-minded determination. The rough texture of his callouses against her sensitive tongue sent jolts of sensation through her body, each movement of his fingers stoking the fire burning within her. Esther's free hand clenched into a fist on the table, her knuckles turning white as the intensity of her arousal peaked, her entire being consumed by the dual sensations of his fingers in her mouth and her own fingers stroking her clit. The world around them faded into a blur of noise and light, irrelevant to the intimate exchange taking place between them on the worn wooden bench, lost in the haze of alcohol, drugs, and the unfamiliar pleasure coursing through her veins.
Their movements grew bolder, more demanding, as if a silent agreement had passed between them. The two men began to grope Esther without any restraint. Their hands moved with urgent purpose, one exploring the generous curve of her ass, squeezing it with possessive force, while the other slid beneath her thin shirt to find and massage her breasts, kneading the soft flesh with a roughness that made her moan. They kissed her, not one at a time, but both at once, their mouths fighting for access to Esther's lips, which were wet and open, a willing canvas for their lust. She was in a state bordering on unconsciousness, her eyes glassy and her head lolling to the side, completely surrendered, letting them do as they pleased. In the midst of their rough, selfish movements, they accidentally jostled Roxy, who was half-asleep in the chair beside them. They didn't notice, too absorbed in their prey, but the impact woke her abruptly. After that everything went black for Esther and she lost consciousness.