"There are two things in life for which we are never truly prepared: twins."-- Josh Billings
George grabbed Hermione's hand, pulling her out the door of his parents' house and into the crisp April afternoon.
"George, what are you doing? They're going to notice that we're gone!" she hissed between clenched teeth.
George neither released her hand, nor replied and continued pulling her toward the Weasley pond. No one in the family was aware of her involvement with the twins, much less that she had moved into their flat several months ago. The family only knew the twins had given her a job at their shop when her blood status made it difficult for her to find one elsewhere. Even after the War and all the improvements Kingsley had made as Minister of Magic, prejudices in the Wizarding World still ran strong. There were times she wondered exactly what good had come from the War besides Voldemort's defeat.
"George! It's your birthday party. How long do you think it will take before they notice you're not there?" Still no reply.
If there was one thing Hermione hated it was to be ignored. She dug in her heels, determined not to take another step until he talked to her. Unfortunately, she dug in her heels a bit too hard at precisely the same moment he decided to loosen his hold on her hand, which landed her hard on her bottom.
He swore under his breath before heaving her back to her feet, tossing her unceremoniously over his shoulder and continuing in the direction of the pond.
"George Weasley, put me down this instant," she ordered in her bossiest tone.
No reply. The infuriating git thought he could ignore her. He knew how very much she hated that. She beat her small fists against his back, but his step never faltered. "Put me down."
She was surprised when he set her down, though it appeared that he only did so because he had arrived at his destination, not because she told him to. They were at her favourite spot by the pond. It was shady here between two large willow trees, and she loved the way the large branches stretched out forming a type of canopy over the pond. She had spent many days with Ron, Harry, Ginny and the twins swimming here in summers past. Other than a relatively new swing Bill had hung on one of the branches for Teddy and Victoire, it looked just as it had when she was a girl of fourteen.
George pinned her back against one of the willow trees with the weight of his body, and slipped his hands beneath her skirt rubbing at her upper thighs. His breath was warm and heavy against her neck and ear. "Want you now," he gasped, attacking her neck with eager lips.
Her hands pushed against his shoulders, "They're going to come looking for us, and I don't fancy being shagged against a tree while your family watches. Let go of me."
"Bugger. I love it when you use that bossy little voice." He growled in her ear and ground his hips into her, his hardness emphasizing how much he loved it when she talked to him using that particular tone.
His fingers hooked in the waistband of her knickers, and despite her attempts to keep them up, she was losing the battle. He captured her lips, making it difficult to remember why she should even try to stop him. After all, he knew what she liked, and he was quite skilled in giving her exactly what she wanted, sometimes even before she knew she wanted it. However, the image of his parents' shocked faces if they were discovered shagging next to the pond was enough to make her push a bit harder on his shoulders. He didn't budge.
Deciding that there was no way to physically overpower him, Hermione opted to try persuasion. Unlike Fred, who could rarely be persuaded regardless of what she tried, George was a bit easier to manipulate. She whispered, "I really don't want your family to find us like this, George, but I promise I'll make it up to you later." She placed a kiss on his lips in hopes of persuading him further.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped back, but it was short-lived. He dropped to his knees in front of her, yanking aside her soaked knickers despite her protests and hooking one of her legs over his shoulder. She thought she heard footsteps approaching and looked around panicked, but saw no one.
"George, get up. What do you think you're-- Oh! Oh Merlin, yesssss," she hissed pulling his head closer as his tongue wreaked havoc on her sensitive clit.
"I'm getting my birthday present," he said, flicking his tongue back and forth across her clit rapidly.
"No, you're getting our birthday present, you pillock. I cannot believe you started without me." Fred smacked his twin on the back of the head, causing George's tongue which had been licking against her entrance to penetrate her. "Get up and share, you selfish git."
"Do-not-stop," Hermione said, holding George's head in place and working her hips in time with his tongue.
George shrugged his shoulders at Fred, as if to say you-heard-her, never breaking the rhythm of his tongue's strokes. Fred dropped to his knees beside his twin, grasped George's chin and pulled him away from her. Hermione might have whined at the loss, but for the pleasure of watching Fred and George together. "Let me taste," Fred growled as he licked his way across George's lips.
"She tastes good, huh?"
"She always does," replied Fred.
"And she is still here," reminded Hermione in a voice that sounded pleading even to her own ears.
"Feeling neglected, love," asked George.
"A bit," she admitted. "You've got me all worked up now," she said glaring at George.
Fred rose from his knees and kissed her deeply. "Did you miss me, baby?"
"I just saw you less than five minutes ago in the house."
Fred stuck out his lower lip in a mock-pout.
"Yes, I missed you madly," she said wrapping her arms around his neck and capturing his lower lip and nibbling it lightly between her teeth as his tongue slipped into her mouth.
As he kissed her, Fred managed to turn her to face the tree and used his wand to tie her hands to the branch above her head. The branch was just high enough, so she was forced to stand on the tips of her toes.
"What do the two of you think you're doing? Untie me, you prats," she said tugging at the bindings around her wrists in an attempt to free herself.
"Now, now love, calm down," said George from over her right shoulder, tilting her head back and nibbling her bottom lip.
"Yeah, we decided we'd like to try a whole new take on this birthday spanking thing you told us Muggles do," said Fred in her left ear, nuzzling her neck.
What had she been thinking when she told them about that? She hadn't been thinking at all, having consumed too much alcohol the previous evening to think of anything. She had just been prattling on while she lay between them in their bed, not really believing either of them was listening to her.
"Seems to us," added George, "that the birthday boy—"
"Or boys in our case," chimed in Fred.
"--should get to give the spanking."
"Oh, you wouldn't," she said threateningly.
"We would," they said in unison.
"It's just that you have such a delicious little bum," said George, as he unfastened her skirt and let it flutter to the ground, running his hand over the curve of her bottom.
"Not here," she pleaded, as Fred got down on his knees behind her and tugged down her knickers, baring her arse to the two of them as well as anyone else who happened along.
With Fred here, persuasion would not get her what she wanted, so she used her most authoritative voice, "Fred and George Weasley, you let me down this instant or I'll—" SMACK.
"Ow, bugger it all, that hurt, you prat," she said to Fred.
"Such language, Miss Granger. I think you'll get an extra for being such a naughty little thing," Fred replied, squeezing her nipple through her shirt.
"Do you think you can stand 27, love?" George asked, landing the second slap.
"Ow. I am not 26," Hermione protested, attempting to avoid Fred's next slap, only to have George's palm connect soundly with her bum.
"Honestly Hermione, I thought you were smart. Of course you are not 26," said Fred making sure not to miss her bum when he smacked at it this time despite her attempt to move. It would have been difficult enough to avoid them with both feet firmly on the ground, but her toes barely touching was making her task all the more impossible.
"Come on, you two," she pleaded. "Someone's going to see us."
Both of their palms came down on her arse this time together causing her to squeal.
"Squeal like that again, baby, and we're sure to have an audience," whispered Fred into her ear, nibbling on her shoulder and growling deep in his throat.
"And we don't plan on sharing you with anyone else," George whispered in her ear as his hand parted her legs and his fingers separated her folds. "I think that should only count as one though, don't you Fred? You know since we did it together and all?"
"Agreed, brother," answered Fred. "That should certainly only count as one."
"What?" Hermione protested. "You both hit me. It should count as two."
"But it's not your birthday, love, so you don't get a say," said Fred.
George's fingers spread her open a bit more, stroking her with just the right amount of pressure.
"George," she moaned.
"You know we love you, right?" George whispered in her ear.
Fred struck her bottom with his palm three times in quick succession stealing her breath and preventing her from answering. "Is she wet, George?"
"So wet. I think she likes having her pretty little arse spanked."
"That's good," replied Fred, "because I am sure enjoying spanking it." He punctuated the sentence by bringing his hand down several times, each smack harder than the last, as she attempted to get away from him.
"Where do you think you're going?" Fred asked, smacking her bottom hard again.
"Fuck. That one was too hard, Fred," whispered George from behind her. "Not so hard."
Tears formed in her eyes and began to course down her cheeks as she struggled against the bindings around her wrists.
George smacked her bottom next, unable to see her reaction from his position behind her, though his smacks were not nearly as hard as Fred's.
She tried to steel herself for Fred's hand to connect with her sore bottom, and bit her lip to keep from crying out. She did not want any of the other family members walking up on them.
She had finally given up the flat she had in London last week. It was a rather large, unnecessary expense, and with the repairs that the shop, as well as their flat above it, had needed after the War, she knew money was much tighter than it had been before. She had used her own paycheck from working in the shop to keep the rent up on her flat, but it took almost everything she made after the landlord raised her rent the last time. That left her little money to contribute to the flat the three of them shared over the shop or for anything else she needed. Neither ever complained or mentioned money to her at all, and oftentimes coins appeared in her purse overnight, which neither of them would claim to have put there. But she had seen them sitting at the table going over their books, heads together as they tallied the numbers. Their faces told her all she needed to know.
Her flat was the final pretense she had kept up in an attempt to keep her relationship with the twins a secret. After all, she wasn't actually living with them if she still had her own flat, or at least that's what she had told herself, despite the fact she had not been to her own flat in months and spent every night with them. They would not be able to conceal their living arrangements much longer, however.
Fred's three smacks, once again in quick succession, caused her to cry out despite her attempt at silence. Her bottom was stinging, her back was aching from the strain of standing on her toes, and her arms felt as though they were about to be pulled from their sockets. Besides, Fred was getting entirely too rough.
"No more," she said through her tears, hoping they would realize she was not playing. George seemed to pick up on the change in her demeanor, as she had expected he would, standing beside her so he could see her face.
Fred, however, landed two more blows to her bottom making her sob harder.
"Let her down, Fred," George said, "I left my wand inside."
"You are such a soft touch. She knows you can't take it when she tears up like that."
"She's right. I said let her down. She's crying."
"Come on, George. They're not even real tears. She fakes them for your benefit." Fred slid his arms around her waist, pressing his denims painfully against her tender backside. "Isn't that right, baby? You know what a soft touch our Georgie is, and he can't stand to see your tears, don't you? Now you've gone and gotten him all worried." He turned her head and tilted her chin toward him, eyes closed, "Give me a kiss, love." He opened his eyes as his lips pressed against hers and he tasted the salt of her tears. She watched his expression change from one of amusement to one of complete shock. He used his wand and immediately released her from the bindings.
"Hermione, I'm— I'm sorry." Fred looked devastated, and Hermione did not doubt the sincerity of his apology.
George wrapped her in his arms and whispered in her ear, "We're sorry, love. We thought it would be fun. We just got a bit carried away. You know we would never hurt you, right?"
She nodded, and she knew they would not. The three of them played, and there had been times in the past when their play had gotten a bit too rough, but neither of them would ever do anything to intentionally bring harm to her. In fact, it had been she who had informed them that she had every intention of giving them birthday spankings that evening. She should have expected this really, knowing them the way she did. But, these days, whenever the three of them were at the Burrow together, she was a bundle of nerves, so worried they would be found out. The family would never believe that she loved them both; would never understand that although it was not a traditional relationship by any standard, it was one that worked for them.
They loved her and had no problem with the world knowing so. She loved Fred and George as well, and was intensely happy being with them, but worried what others would think of her, particularly the other members of their family; a family whom she loved and whose acceptance meant a great deal to her. She had no doubt it was only at her insistence that the twins kept their relationship secret.
They knew she was worried that the family would think ill of her for being with the both of them. At one point, Fred had even suggested she marry one of them for the sake of appearances, and then the other would just continue to live in the flat, and what happened behind the doors of their flat was no one's business but theirs. But how was she to choose between them? One of them would always wonder why the other had been chosen, even if he didn't say so at the time. She loved them equally and refused to choose.
Fred walked away from them to sit at the edge of the pond, as thunder rumbled in the distance. George placed her recently discarded clothes into her hands and kissed away her tears as she dressed.
"How sore at us are you, love?" George asked softly.
She pulled him to her and kissed him deeply, "I am sore," she said, "and I have every intention of making the two of you pay dearly for this. But I know you would never do anything to hurt me intentionally." She kissed him once more. "Does that answer your question?"
"I don't know. Maybe you should kiss me again to convince me."
"I don't think you're the one who needs convincing," Hermione said, inclining her head in Fred's direction.
"He's sore at himself for getting too carried away to notice you weren't—well enjoying the game. He truly believed you were bluffing."
"I know. He looked really shocked when he opened his eyes."
"No worries, love. I'll talk to him."
"Thanks, but I think I'd better go this time."
"I'll see you back at the house," Hermione said nodding, as George winked at her and started off toward the house.
Hermione lowered herself down on the grass beside Fred, but was unable to contain the gasp that escaped her lips when her sore bottom made contact with the ground. Fred's head dropped a bit lower when he heard the sound.
"Do you hate me?" He asked the question without meeting her eyes, continuing to gaze out over the pond.
"No." Hermione's answer was drowned out by a particularly loud clap of thunder. Her hand snaked under his shirt to caress the warm skin of his back. "Look at me," she said touching his face. When he didn't do as she asked, she gripped his chin and forcibly turned his face to her touching her lips gently to his. "I love you," she whispered into his mouth, "both of you."
"Love you too," Fred said, tugging her gently into his arms to cuddle her on his lap. "I really didn't know—"
"She put a finger to his lips. "Ssh. I know."
Fred's lips touched hers, his tongue sliding past her lips, as the heavens opened up soaking them through within seconds.
"Come on, let's go back to the house and get dry."
"No," she said, unbuttoning the top button of her blouse, and moving to the next.
"What are you doing?" Fred asked placing his hand over hers.
"Removing my top. I should think that was obvious," she responded matter-of-factly brushing off his hand and continuing to work the buttons free, or at least attempting to.
"Hermione, you don't have to—"
"I want you to make love to me."
"We can go home and--"
"Right here, right now. You know, you could help me with these confounded buttons."
Fred grasped the bottom of the shirt with both hands and ripped upwards, popping the buttons off in the process.
"Well, that was an option I had not considered," she said, rolling her eyes as he tossed her shirt aside and unhooked her bra. Rain slickened hands moved up her bare back and came forward to grasp her breasts. She arched her back pressing them more firmly into his palms. He rolled her beneath him to the cold wet grass, brushing her wet hair from her face.
"I love you," he whispered, as she cupped his cheek in her hand. He kissed her deeply as his hand slipped up her thigh. Hermione grasped the button on his denims, but groaned in frustration when her cold fingers refused to do as she wished and she was unable to work it free.
"Fred, please," she said, "I can't get it."
He slid his hand between them and released the button with an ease that made her bite her lip in frustration at being unable to do so herself. He worked his denims and shorts down past his knees, pulled her knickers to the side and slipped two fingers inside of her warmth.
"Fuck, you're wet."
"I'm always wet when you're around," she replied, nibbling on his ear.
She raised her hips and hitched her fingers in the waistband of her knickers to pull them down, but he was faster, ripping them off and settling himself between her legs in what seemed one fluid movement.
"I want you," she moaned.
He slid into her as the rain came down harder, running in rivulets across their skin, dripping from his hair and chin onto her body as he set the pace of their lovemaking. The rhythm of his thrusts was deep and fast, and her hips kept perfect time with his strokes.
His lips attached to her neck and he almost had to shout so she could hear him over the sound of the rain hitting the water of the pond. "You're mine. Won't share you with anybody but George. Not ever. Only ours." His words were broken, and she wasn't sure she heard them all correctly, but the gist was crystal clear.
He rolled her clit between his fingers pinching and twisting in the way he knew she liked, sending her spiraling into an orgasm so strong that he was squeezed tight inside her trembling body when she came. The force of her orgasm sent him over the edge of desire with her, as waves of pleasure crashed down upon their joined bodies.
Fred kissed her, tasting the cold raindrops on her lips. "You're freezing."
Without the body heat from their lovemaking to warm her, Hermione's teeth began to chatter and her lips turned blue. "I want to go home," she said, "but your parents will be upset if we leave without telling them. This was a birthday party for you and George after all."
Fred grinned at her. "Do you really think we'll have less to explain if we go in there like this," he indicated her ripped shirt with the missing buttons and their rain drenched hair and clothes, "than if we leave without saying goodbye?"
"No," she admitted. "I suppose not."
"Besides," he said, "the marks on your neck will be even more difficult to explain."
"Fred," she whined, "every time you two do that I have to try and invent some story about a wild date I've had because Harry and Ron always notice. You know, they probably talk about what a whore I am behind my back. I can just hear them now talking about how every time I go out with someone new I come back covered in sucking marks."
"Somebody decides to call you a whore, brother or not, it'll be the last words they say if me or George hear 'em," he said, pulling her to him and Apparating them back to the flat the three of them shared over the shop at number 93, Diagon Alley.
He took her hand and tugged her into the loo, where he started the shower casting a warming spell on it. "Come here, let's get you warmed up," he said helping her remove the tattered remains of her clothes when her cold fingers refused to cooperate.
They heard the whoosh of the Floo announcing George's arrival home, and heard his footsteps approaching before the door was pushed open. Hermione met his gaze, and his face immediately registered concern at her appearance. "Her lips are blue and she's soaked and shivering. What'd you do?" he asked in a tone that he rarely used, particularly with his twin.
Finally shed of her clothes, Fred opened the shower door and gently pushed her inside. Hermione gratefully stood beneath the warm spray as she began to regain feeling in her half-frozen fingers. She could only just make out their words over the noise of the running water.
"Why are her lips blue?" George asked a little more forcefully.
"I'm fine," she said sticking her head out of the shower to reveal almost normal colouring. "We got caught in the rain."
"Then how come she's the only one who looks frozen?" George demanded of his brother.
Fred gave her a half smile, and she was relieved to see the twinkle back in his eye. "I threw her in the pond."
"You did what?" spluttered George. "What the bloody hell were you thinking?"
She stepped from the shower, and Fred took her place under the spray. She wrapped herself in one of the large, fluffy towels she had brought with her from her old flat. "Don't listen to him. I happened to be lying in a puddle and— well…"
"You're adorable when you blush," teased George. "I think I can fill in the blanks."
"Good," she said heading for the room they shared in search of warm clothing.
George followed her into the room pushing her hands away from the drawer that contained her pyjamas and retrieving them for her himself. "Come here," he said, using his wand to cast a drying spell on her hair and skin. "You still look cold."
"I feel cold all the way through," she admitted.
"I'll start a fire in the fireplace and put on some tea. Wanna cuppa?" he asked.
"Sounds warm," she said as another shiver ran through her. "You sound like your mum, you know?"
George gave an exaggerated gasp, "Those are fighting words, Granger."
She held up her hands, as if in surrender, "Only an observation," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"You two okay now?" George asked.
"We're fine. You sound worried."
"I would say that I was, but I fear that would only lead to more analogies from my cheeky girlfriend. Get dressed so you can warm up by the fire."
"Don't forget the tea," she called to his retreating back.
Hermione dressed in the warm flannel of her favorite pyjamas and the thickest socks she could find, as her toes felt almost as cold as her fingers. She ran a brush through her mass of frizzy curls and tied them back with a ribbon. The pyjamas were too big for her and she hated the way they looked, but they were warm, and tonight she would gladly trade looking sexy for being warm. These pyjamas certainly made her look the exact opposite of sexy.
There was a thick quilt waiting for her on the sofa as the fireplace crackled casting a warm orange glow on the otherwise dark room. It had taken such a short time for this place to become home to her. She loved it here. She picked up her wand and lit a few candles as the twins rounded the corner dressed in identical pyjama pants, chests bare and Fred's hair still wet from the shower.
They carried steaming mugs in their hands, and George also had a bottle of Firewhisky in hand.
"Tea," she said, as Fred gave her attire a once over, his eyes running up and down her body.
"Don't you look—um – warm?" Fred said between chuckles.
"This is what happens when someone attempts to freeze me to death," she retorted, scowling at him.
"What's that? You punish them by wearing the ugliest thing you can find?"
"Yes," she said, curling her hand around his neck and leaning up to kiss his lips.
"Careful," he said, with a cup in each hand. "These are pretty hot. We charmed the glasses and the kettle so they'll stay warm and refill. Don't make me spill it; it might burn you." After setting the steaming teacups down on the sofa table, he grabbed her and kissed her. "Now we can do this a bit more proper." He looked at the pyjamas once again and shook his head, laughing.
"The tea has a bit of a bite," said George nodding at the bottle of Firewhisky and offering her a cup. She reached for it and he pulled it back, "I think you forgot something."
"George, give it over, and then tell me what it is I've forgotten," she whined reaching for the cup. "I'm cold."
Fred grabbed his twin from behind to allow Hermione to take the cup, then captured George's lips with his own, pushing his tongue past George's lips. "There's your kiss," said Fred, "happy now?"
George nodded, ruffling his twin's wet hair as they made their way across the room to her. Fred joined Hermione on the sofa pulling the quilt over the both of them and resting his cheek against her shoulder. She caught George's hand as he sat down beside Fred, winking at her. Of all the things they did together, this was what she loved most. They didn't need to go anywhere or do anything for her to be completely happy. As long as they were both there with her, it was complete bliss.
She felt the effects of the alcohol long before George refilled her cup for the third time. It warmed her insides, relaxing her and making her eyelids heavy. Fred shifted on the couch to put his head in her lap and George got up and moved to sit behind her, so she could lean against his bare chest. She stroked Fred's almost dry hair and ran her fingertips through the sparse red hair on his chest absentmindedly as she watched the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Her eyes closed when she felt George's fingers working the buttons free on the pyjama top Fred found so hilarious. George tilted her chin tenderly up to him. He kissed her mouth softly as Fred looked up at them. George's fingers closed around her nipple, as Fred took over the unbuttoning of her top.
"Let's go to bed," she whispered. George rose from the couch and pulled her up by the hand, with Fred following behind them. "I'm gonna go to the loo, and then I'll be right there," she said heading off down the hallway.
She stopped when she was where they couldn't see her any longer to sneak back to the sofa and retrieve her wand from a nearby table. She walked as quietly as possible to the door of their bedroom, but the room was dark and she couldn't make out where they were. She crossed the threshold and her wand flew from her hand as George stepped behind her.
"Tut, tut, tut. Truly pathetic."
"I'm a bit insulted she thought we'd fall for that," agreed Fred.
"Ooh," she stomped her foot in frustration. "I hate you both."
"Now, now," said George gathering all their wands and leaving the room with them, obviously to keep her from getting hold of one.
Fred reached out and tweaked her nipple, "Did you really think we weren't anticipating that?"
"If I thought you were anticipating it, I wouldn't have tried it, now would I?"
George pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her waist, "Hate us, do you?" he asked, slipping his hand just beneath her waistband and resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Yes," she said crossing her arms over her chest.
"I don't think she wants to play with us, Georgie."
"I think you may be right," said George, moving away from Hermione to drop to his knees in front of Fred and tug down his pyjama bottoms.
Fred raised an eyebrow in her direction, chuckling when she turned away.
Damn them. They know my will won't hold out when they're doing that. She could hear Fred moaning as he thrust into George's mouth.
"Come here, Hermione," said Fred. "You know you want to."
Yes, I want to. "I don't."
She heard Fred moan again, and moisture pooled between her legs. She was dripping with desire for them, furious that they knew how much she wanted them, and that this would ultimately get them their way.
Hermione decided to turn the tables on them, stomping off downstairs to the back room of the shop where they kept merchandise in various stages of testing that wasn't quite ready to sell to the public. She retrieved the item she was looking for, sliding it into her pocket and heading back for their room.
It was her turn to put on a show.
She reclined back on their bed, yanked off her top and reached for the bottle of warming lotion she had retrieved. This was one of the adult products they were testing. She put some of the lotion in her hand and heard Fred groan as she rubbed it on her nipples and they instantly hardened. The lotion felt like many imaginary tongues were laving her nipples and she whimpered with pleasure from the sensations.
She heard George swear under his breath as they watched her slip the pyjama bottoms down her legs and offer up the bottle of lotion to them in invitation. They were both instantly at her side.
Fred reached for the bottle of lotion and emptied a bit in each of their hands, as he moved behind her. "Put it on me," she whispered.
George's had slid between her legs and he applied the lotion liberally to her clit. He manipulated it with his fingers until her clit pulsated and throbbed with need. The pleasure was so intense it was painful. It felt as though dozens of tongues were all licking her at once. She was unable to remain still, squirming and moaning in ecstasy against Fred. She hadn't thought she could feel anything more erotic or sensual until George spread the cheeks of her arse and Fred rubbed the lotion up and down her parted cheeks and worked it into her tight entrance with his finger. The imaginary tongues assaulted her senses instantly.
She applied some of the lotion to Fred's cock smiling at the pleasure visible on his face.
"Feels good, huh?" she asked.
George's cock slid into her warmth as Fred worked a second finger into her tight arse.
George thrust into her wildly, moaning in ecstasy as some of the lotion he had placed on her clit was transferred to his cock. The power of his thrusts and the pleasure from the imaginary tongues still licking at her clit made her scream as she came. Though it had never happened to her before, a second orgasm hit her immediately following the first, leaving her trembling and exhausted. She felt George come inside of her, and she took Fred's cock back into her mouth sucking him until he spilled down her throat.
Fred pulled her against his muscled chest, and she felt George pressing himself against her back and kissing her shoulder. Her eyelids grew heavy, and from George's steady breathing in her ear she could tell he was already asleep. Fred stroked her hair back from her face, smiling down at her.
"I think that's bound to be a bestseller," she whispered, trying not to wake George.
"Good night, love," he whispered, laughing softly at her comment.
"Happy Birthday," she said, kissing him on the cheek.
He pulled her a little tighter to him, and his soft snores soon filled their room.