The motel door closes behind me with a hollow click, sealing away the evening's debauchery like it never happened. My legs tremble with each step, muscles screaming in protest as if I've just run a marathon in dress shoes. The cool night air hits my face, a small mercy against my feverish skin.
I shuffle across the parking lot, each movement sending jolts of discomfort through my overused body. Everything hurts, my back from being pressed against that wall for hours, my thighs from the constant tension, my cock from being... well, from being exactly what Sabrina wanted it to be tonight.
A woman emerges from the room next to ours, her silhouette briefly illuminated by the sickly yellow light spilling from her doorway. I duck my head immediately, avoiding eye contact. Is she one of them? One of the faceless women who used me tonight? The thought makes heat rise to my cheeks, shame and arousal twisting together in my gut like mating snakes.
I quicken my pace toward Sabrina's car, desperate for the sanctuary of its familiar leather seats. Only when I reach it do I realize my predicament, Sabrina has the keys. I'm locked out, stranded in this sleazy parking lot until she finishes cleaning up.
With a defeated sigh, I lean against the car door, letting my weight sag against the cool metal. The night sky above is oddly beautiful, stars piercing through the urban glow like tiny accusations. I close my eyes, trying to quiet the storm of emotions raging inside me.
"Leo?"
The voice slices through my exhaustion like a knife. My eyes snap open, heart lurching painfully against my ribs. I know that voice. It's familiar yet wrong, similar to Sabrina's but sharper, with edges that could cut glass.
Standing beneath the flickering motel sign, looking as out of place as a diamond in a gutter, is Michelle. Sabrina's sister. Her blonde hair catches the neon light, longer and more meticulously styled than Sabrina's pixie cut. Those same blue eyes, wide with shock, stare back at me.
"Michelle?" My voice cracks embarrassingly. "What are you doing here?"
She doesn't answer immediately, her gaze traveling over my disheveled appearance, my wrinkled clothes, my sweat-dampened hair, the unmistakable flush of recent activity still coloring my face. Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed quickly by something darker, more calculating.
Michelle's mouth falls open, her words halting as she processes what she's seeing. "Did you just… are you coming out of room 112?" she stutters, her perfectly manicured finger pointing toward the door I just exited.
"What? No, of course not," I blurt out, the lie tumbling from my lips before I can stop it. My heart hammers against my ribs as I straighten up, trying to look more composed than I feel. "I was just, um, waiting for Sabrina. She's inside..."
Michelle doesn't buy it for a second. Her eyes narrow, darting between me and the door to room 112, then scanning the parking lot with laser-like intensity. The way her expression shifts from shock to something more calculating makes my stomach drop.
"Did…"
"Oh hey, hey Michelle!" Sabrina's cheerful voice cuts through the tension as she emerges from room 112, looking completely unfazed. She pulls the door shut behind her with a casual flick of her wrist, keys jingling in her hand. "What brings you to the motel tonight?"
The confidence in Sabrina's voice is jarring compared to my obvious panic. She strolls toward us like we're meeting at a coffee shop rather than a seedy motel known for its glory hole. Her smile is bright, almost challenging as she slides an arm around my waist.
Michelle's gaze flickers between us, her face contorting with shock.
"I was just meeting a friend," Michelle finally answers, but her voice wavers. She looks like she wants to say more, but her eyes keep gravitating to the motel room door like it holds some terrible secret.
Sabrina's arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel the subtle shake of suppressed laughter in her body.
"That's funny," Sabrina says, her tone light and conversational, "we were just finishing up in there ourselves." She gestures vaguely toward room 112 with the key. "Small world, huh?"
Michelle's face pales visibly under the harsh parking lot lights. Her nostrils flare slightly as her eyes dart to my crotch and away again, so quick I almost miss it.
"You two were... in there?" she asks, her voice unnaturally high.
Sabrina nods cheerfully. "Had a lovely time too. Didn't we, Leo?"
I can only manage a weak nod, paralyzed between mortification and exhaustion. The sisters' identical blue eyes lock in some silent communication I can't begin to decipher.
"You know," Sabrina continues, her thumb tracing small circles against my hip, "I've always wondered who else uses these places. Such an interesting... cross-section of society." Her gaze drifts pointedly to her sister's thighs, where a telltale wet spot has darkened the fabric of her otherwise immaculate slacks.
Michelle shifts uncomfortably, crossing her legs as if suddenly aware of the evidence on her pants. Her bare lips press into a thin line.
"I should go," Michelle says stiffly, but she doesn't move.
"Already?" Sabrina tilts her head, innocent as a shark. "But we've barely had time to catch up. I'd love to know who you were meeting."
Michelle's jaw tightens. "Im sure, but I have a thing to get to."
"Fair enough." Sabrina shrugs, her fingers still playing at my waistband.
Michelle turns on her heel, stalking away with rigid posture that practically screams discomfort. I watch her retreat, my mind racing to piece together the implications of what just happened. Sabrina unlocks the car with a casual beep, as if we've just finished dinner rather than... whatever the hell this was.
Once we're inside the car, the full weight of realization crashes down on me. My hands start trembling against my thighs as Sabrina slides into the driver's seat beside me, humming contentedly under her breath.
"Sabrina," I choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Was that... did I just..." The words stick in my throat, too horrifying to fully articulate. "Did you purposely have me cum in your sister?"
Sabrina turns to me, her smile spreading slow and wide across her face.
"Yes," she says simply, her voice filled with unmistakable satisfaction.
The single syllable hangs between us like a bomb.
"Why?" I finally manage, the question scraping my throat raw. "Why would you do that?"
She turns the key in the ignition, the engine purring to life. When she looks over at me, there's something different in her eyes, a wildness I've glimpsed before but never so nakedly displayed. It's like looking at a stranger wearing my wife's face.
"Because it's what I wanted," she says, her voice soft yet somehow more terrifying than if she'd screamed it. Her pupils are dilated, black nearly swallowing the blue. "Do you regret it?"
The question cuts me to my core. Do I regret it? I should. God, I should be horrified, disgusted with myself, with her. But her approval is more important than all of that.
The thought of disappointing Sabrina, of seeing that light in her eyes dim because of me, overrides even the horror of what we've just done. What she's orchestrated. What I've participated in.
"No," I hear myself say, feeling like I'm a million miles away from my own voice. "Of course not. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."
Her smile softens into something almost tender as she reaches across the console to stroke my cheek. "That's right," she murmurs, her thumb tracing my bottom lip. "Because we make each other happy, don't we?"
"Always."