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All participants in this story are over 18 years old. Everything happening in the story is consensual.
As you can see, I still try to find my style - Feedback is welcome.
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1.
The dim candlelight wavered, painting ghostly faces on the four boys at the table. They sat in thick silence, interrupted by sporadic silverware chimes. A Bluetooth speaker droned from a corner. Every lyric was holding their attention captive. It was a game they were playing. Jeremy, youngest of them all, freshly turned 18, with penetrating hazel eyes, tried to say something. But before a word left his lips, hesitation sealed them shut.
Carter's deep bass voice shattered the silence, echoing like a gunshot, "Ella Fitzgerald!" His hands slammed down on the table, causing the silverware to jump. At 19, standing head and shoulders above the rest, Carter reminded one of a darker version of Ser Gregor from GoT. Both the oldest and the largest, but not the brightest.
"Dude, she's from decades ago! You think she's ghost-dropping hits from the afterlife?" quipped Hakeem, skinny, with a brainiac's glare from behind sliding glasses.
Issa, a boy whose aura saturated the room, cut in sharply, 'Relax, Hakeem. I've got to soak in this tune.' His swagger was amped up, knowing he'd been the one to usher Zoe into their world. Then, the room plunged back into its familiar silence.
"Yo, it's Nelly Furtado!" Jeremy shouted, slicing through the hush. But then, an overwhelming tsunami of pleasure crashed over him, a vortex that scrambled his senses. As his hand sneaked below the table, his breathing spiked. Jeremy's body began to writhe as an enraptured 'Mmm' escaped his lips. Zoe, in her covert approach, was both surprising and intense. Her hair threaded through his fingers while her mouth, like an octopus ensnaring a fish, was tireless in its dance around his enormous cock. Regardless of his size, he felt it all devoured by Zoe. Jeremy's moans punctuated the air until the track's end. And as abruptly as she began, Zoe withdrew, leaving Jeremy lingering in raw need.
"Next round's mine," Carter's voice, like rolling thunder, announced the next track's intro.
2.
Zoe's voice glided through the sun-soaked room, "Mike, do I pass as sexy?" Sunrays licked her alabaster skin, setting it ablaze.
Mike's voice crackled, "Pass? God, those boys should be worshiping your shadow!" Venomous envy tainted each word.
Zoe pirouetted, the sun catching every fiber of her silhouette. It twisted, playing with the curves, racing in the hollows. That amethyst silk dress clung to her like a vice, revealing more than it concealed. No hint of a bra. Mike's eyes trailed her form, skimming from the curve of her back to the audacious slash in her dress, baring legs that screamed sin and salvation all at once. The sparkle of raven-black toenails halted him -- perched on open-toed Jimmy Choos. Those shoes were a declaration of war, a gateway to temptation, a dance with the devil himself.
Mike visualized those shoe strap marks, raw and tender, resting on some young schoolboy's shoulder as he penetrated her slowly with his big black cock. That thought, like a dangerous whisper, compelled Mike's fingers to betray him, seeking solace in the clandestine touch of his own flesh.
"Remember our little pact on hands, darling?" Her eyebrow arched, lips red and dangerous against the mirror's reflection.
"I touch myself only after you've told me every sordid tale from your day," he murmured, a captive to their wicked game.
After giving a quick kiss to Mike, Zoe hopped in her car and sped, stopping only when a solitary cottage, dwarfed by trees, appeared.
"I, as well, will be surrounded by nothing but 'woods' in a while," she giggled. "I'll scream; only the trees will listen. But Mike? He'll hear every note. The boys will stream it all."
Killing the engine, she stepped out. Heels sounded against stone. A breath. A solid knock.
3.
The music cut off abruptly, and Zoe crawled out from beneath the table, rising like a siren before the spellbound boys. Wearing nothing but those Jimmy Choos she'd arrived in the night before. The flickering candlelight traced the contours of her flawless form, sculpting her almost visible abs, teasing her petite breasts, their eager nipples announcing their presence. The silk-smooth curves between her thighs they were a work of art. She locked her eyes, brimming with desire, directly onto Carter's.
"Carter, my dear boy," she purred her voice a siren's call. "You're up first."
With that, she turned her back on them and began to move gracefully, every curve an enigma drawing the boys in. All four of them were captivated, helpless in the face of her temptation as they followed her, like moths to a flame, into the unknown.
Zoe ascended like a goddess, mounting her throne, her knees touching the chair's surface as she draped herself over the backrest. With the slow deliberation of a snake, she arched her back, her butt ascending in a provocative crescendo. The very arch of her spine became a vividly sculpted masterpiece, a work of art born of shadows and desire.
The flickering candlelight cast spectral patterns, playing a haunting symphony of light and shadow while the room hung heavy with absolute silence. This moment engraved itself into their minds, an indelible core memory that would forever haunt their most forbidden fantasies.
With a commanding authority that sent shivers down their spines, she turned her head to fixate her piercing gaze on the boys, her eyes sparkling with an intoxicating mix of power and desire. Her voice, a seductive order, sliced through the stillness.
"Carter," she uttered, a single word pregnant with a world of promise and the anticipation of forbidden pleasures yet to come.
Carter rose from his seat with deliberate slowness, the chair protesting with an agonizing squeak as it reluctantly released him. From the table, he plucked a lone candle, the object shrinking to absurdity in his massive grip.
