Alex softened, almost wistful. "Kimmi, that week was the happiest of my life. I know you felt it too. Let's enjoy this while your boyfriend's passed out. One last time. If you never want to see me again, I can't stop you."
Kimmi whispered, "But my boyfriend's here. I can't do this. I'm sorry."
Tyson jumped in. "Look, we don't want to force you, but we saw everything you and your boyfriend did in the pool. Seeing you like that? I can't hold back. Let me touch you—just to make up for that slap. If not, I might tell your boyfriend tomorrow."
Kimmi's heart sank at the mention of me, her resolve crumbling. "Just… just one touch. You can't go further, and you can't tell my boyfriend."
I'd planned to let them look or touch a bit, then step in to stop it, worried Kimmi couldn't handle more and it'd turn into a mess. I didn't care much if she and Alex stopped being friends, but a scandal would be a nightmare. But now? Kimmi wasn't just letting it happen—she was half-giving in. That threw me. If I stopped them now, Kimmi might not cope, maybe even break up with me. And since she and Alex had already crossed that line before, I decided to let it play out.
Tyson, sensing victory, pounced like a starved predator. I couldn't see from behind the door, but I felt the energy—he was all over her. He yanked off Kimmi's nightdress, tossing it aside. She was probably down to just her panties now.
Tyson teased, "Touch what?"
Kimmi was silent, wrestling with guilt, her mind screaming betrayal. Tyson's threat had her panicked, terrified I'd find out. After an agonizing internal battle, she sighed, just wanting it over, and moaned softly, "You… can… touch a little?"
Tyson pushed. "Touch where?"
Kimmi's voice was barely audible. "Here."
Tyson wasn't satisfied. "Where? Say it clearly."
Finally, she choked out, "My tits."
What followed was the sound of slurping—flesh being sucked—and Kimmi's faint "mm" moans. You didn't need to see to know Tyson was all over her chest. She kept trying to hold the line, telling herself, "Just one touch." But within minutes, her body betrayed her will. "Stop… it's ticklish," she whimpered.
Tyson mocked her. "Don't like it? I've never met a girl who didn't. My fingers and mouth are famously gentle. That was just your back. Wait till I touch all of you—you'll see what real pleasure is."
Tyson was clearly working her whole body, hands and mouth in sync. Kimmi's soft "mm… mm…" moans grew as her body responded against her will. Her resistance faded, her inner struggle weakening as she kept whispering, "Just one touch, just one touch,"—whether to Tyson or herself, who knows. But she never stopped him. Tyson's skills must've been next-level, pulling her in. She tried rationalizing it—"It's just touching"—but the pleasure was eating away at her resolve, her body craving more.
Tyson, toying with her, asked, "Just your tits? What about your pussy?"
Kimmi hesitated, still fighting inside, but her body's heat won out. "Just… one touch," she whispered.
Tyson grazed her, then laughed. "One touch? I can't stop now. Tell me to stop if you want."
Kimmi couldn't hold back, her voice shaking as her last defenses collapsed. "Don't stop… please… keep touching my… pussy."
Tyson paused, chuckling. "Ha, you're soaked. No need to touch—I'll massage you with my dick instead!"
Then came a squishing sound—his tip rubbing against her entrance. Kimmi's panties were gone, probably yanked off by Tyson. After a night of teasing, her desire was fully unleashed. As he teased her entrance, her inner battle raged—she knew "just one touch" was long gone. Her mind gave up, letting her body take over. Then, a faint moan: "…Can you… put it in a little?"