Two Very Green Brunettes Have A Go At Their Best Friends Cock

Title: “Sowing Seeds of Desire: A Retro Teenage Threesome”

In the freewheeling days of the 1970s, when the mores of society were shifting and sexual liberation was in full bloom, two charming young brunettes, Liza and Cindy, decided to spice up their lives by seducing their best friend, Brad. This wasn’t just an ordinary friendship; it was a bond forged in the crucible of shared adventures, secret crushes, and the unspoken language of youthful yearning.

Liza, with her cascading chestnut locks and piercing hazel eyes, was a born temptation. She had a way of moving that was pure liquid poetry, her hips swaying to an unheard rhythm. Cindy, on the other hand, was a Study in contrast. Her hair, a rich mahogany, framed a face that was all porcelain skin and rosebud lips. Where Liza was bold and brash, Cindy was soft and demure, a whispered temptation.

They had been planning this little escapade for weeks, giggling and blushing over which of Brad’s assets they found most appealing. Would it be the way he filled out his football jersey, his muscles rippling beneath the fabric? Or perhaps the sight of him bent over his motorcycle, his jeans stretched taut over his firm backside? They agreed that Brad was the total package, a heartbreaker in the making.

One balmy Saturday afternoon, Liza and Cindy descended upon Brad’s home, a gift basket in hand as a pretext. Brad, in his usual toweling robe after a shower, answered the door, his hair tousled and his face still damp. The girls noticed the way the fabric clung to his chest, and they couldn’t help but let their eyes wander lower, to the tantalizing gap between the overlapping folds.

Liza stepped forward, heroint her basket to Brad. “We brought you a peace offering,” she said, batting her lashes. “You know, for the other night.”

Brad frowned, perplexed. “The other night?”

Cindy stepped in, saving Liza from having to elaborate on the poorly contrived excuse. She traced a finger along Brad’s chest, her touch feather-light. “It’s a new type of massage oil,” she explained, holding up the basket. “We thought you could try it out on us.”

Brad’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he found his voice. “You want me to give you a massage? Both of you?”

Liza leaned in close, her breath ghosting over Brad’s ear. “We want you to touch us, Brad. We want you to make us feel good.”

And with that, the die was cast. Brad, his resistance crumbling like a sandcastle against the tide of their combined sensuality, led them to his bedroom. The room was bathed in the golden glow of afternoon sunlight, a perfect stage for the intimate drama about to unfold.

Liza and Cindy shed their clothes with a slow, deliberate sensuality, their bras and panties slipping off to reveal the bounty of their nubile bodies. Brad, now in just his boxers, reclined on the bed, his manhood straining against the thin fabric. The girls crawled onto the bed, a predator’s grace in their movements, and hovered over him, their breasts grazing his skin.

They worked the oil into his skin, their hands gliding over the firm planes of his body. They massaged his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. And then, emboldened by his breathing growing heavier, ragged, they moved lower, their oiled fingers dipping beneath the elastic of his boxers.

Brad gasped as their hands closed around his erection, their grip confident, enthusiastic. They stroked him in perfect tandem, their movements a dance choreographed by the music of their shared desire. Brad’s hips bucked instinctively, seeking more of their touch.

And then, in a move that would be repeated in theirüstet beste fantasies, Liza and Cindy, with a glance that spoke volumes about their friendship and their love for each other, leaned in and kissed the tip of Brad’s cock. They licked him together, their tongues swirling, exploring, tasting.

Brad, his hands fisted in the sheets, watching through heavy-lidded eyes, was lost to the sensation. The girls, emboldened by his reaction, took him into their mouths, inch by exquisite inch. They bobbed their heads in harmony, their lips stretched around his girth, their tongues caressing him.

Brad groaned, his head thrown back, his body taut as a bowstring. The girls could feel him pulsing in their mouths, his orgasm building. And then, with a cry that was equal parts surprise and ecstasy, Brad came, his seed spilling onto their tongues, into their mouths.

They swallowed together, licking their lips clean, savoring the taste of him. Brad, spent, watched them through heavy-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The girls crawled up his body, nuzzling into his neck, his chest, their mouths finding his in a series of soft, sweet kisses.

“I guess that massage was just what the doctor ordered,” Liza murmured, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. Cindy giggled, her fingers tracing patterns on Brad’s chest. Brad, his voice hoarse, could only chuckle.

And so ended a perfect afternoon of teenaged exploration, a memory they would cherish for the rest of their lives. A memory of friendship, of trust, and of the boundless, brasential desire of youth.