Intense Cravings: Bound by Lust and Fate
Jump deeper into the heat: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 🔥
Chapter 1: Shadows of the Penthouse
Liam stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of Nadia’s sleek penthouse, the city lights blurring into a hazy glow below. His wheelchair sat idle by the glass, a cold reminder of the cancer that had clawed through his body like a relentless beast. Legs numb, arms weakening, and worst of all, his cock lifeless—a dead weight between thighs that barely registered touch. Dr. Nadia Petrova, his old crush from high school debate club, had insisted he move in after the latest scan. “I need to monitor you closely,” she’d said, her green eyes sharp as scalpels. But Liam knew better. There was hunger in her gaze, the same spark from those awkward teen years when she’d tease him mercilessly about his staring.
The elevator dinged softly that first afternoon, pulling him from his thoughts. Nadia, still in her white coat from the clinic, strode toward the foyer, her dark hair cascading like midnight silk. He heard the murmur of voices—Russian, lilting and secretive—followed by laughter that echoed off the marble floors. Peeking around the corner, Liam caught sight of her: Irina Kuznetsova, Nadia’s wild counterpart from those school hallways. Blonde waves, fuller curves than he remembered, hips swaying in tight jeans that hugged like a second skin. She’d bulked up a bit since her twenties, now pushing thirty-five, with freckles dusting her cleavage beneath a low-cut blouse.
“Liam, darling,” Nadia called, her accent thickening with excitement. “Meet your new shadow. Irina’s here to keep this place from falling apart while I’m saving lives downstairs.”
Irina’s blue eyes locked on him, a sly grin splitting her full lips. “Still the quiet watcher, huh? Remember me blocking your pathetic attempts at flirting with Nadia back in school? God, you were so obvious.” She laughed, a throaty sound that sent a phantom twitch to his groin—useless, but the memory stung sweet.
They’d all shared classes, Nadia the brainy overachiever, Irina the fiery instigator who dragged her into mischief. Liam? The sidelined admirer, nursing crushes amid whispered rumors of their hookups. Now, Irina needed cash—debts from a failed art studio gig piling up like unpaid canvases. “Pays better than slinging coffee,” she shrugged, hauling in grocery bags that smelled of fresh dill and rye bread, scents that flooded the sterile air.
By evening, as Nadia rushed off to her shift, Irina took charge. She wheeled him to the kitchen island, her hands firm on his shoulders, nails grazing skin through his thin shirt. “Can’t have you starving, invalid.” Her breath was warm vanilla from gum, close enough he could taste it on the air. She chopped vegetables with practiced fury, knife flashing silver, while chatting about old crushes—hers on teachers, his unspoken obsession with Nadia. Liam felt the heat rise, watching her ass flex in those jeans as she bent for pots, the denim straining. But his body betrayed him, numb as stone below the belt.
Night fell heavy. Irina helped him into the king-sized bed in the guest suite—Nadia’s “recovery room”—her fingers lingering on his chest as she tucked sheets. “Sleep tight, perv. Dream of what you can’t have.” She winked, hips swaying out, leaving him hard in his mind only.
Chapter 2: Whispers in the Steam
Weeks blurred into a rhythm of forced intimacy. Irina’s days filled the penthouse with life—vacuum whirring like a distant storm, laundry tumbling with the scent of lavender detergent clinging to fabrics. She’d park Liam on the balcony, city winds whipping his face, while she scrubbed counters inside, sweat beading on her neck like dew on petals. One muggy afternoon, humidity thick as arousal, she announced a bath. “Doctor’s orders. You’re starting to smell like defeat.”
She stripped him matter-of-factly in the spa-like bathroom, steam rising from the clawfoot tub like ghostly fingers. His flaccid dick lolled exposed, pale and unresponsive. Irina didn’t flinch—hell, her eyes sparkled. “Poor thing. All dressed up with nowhere to go.” She eased him into scalding water, bubbles foaming white around his hips. Her hands, slick with soap, roamed. Shoulders first, kneading knots with thumbs that dug deep, then down his arms, fingers interlacing in a grip too tight, too teasing.
“Remember sophomore year?” she murmured, sponge gliding over his chest, nipples pebbling under coarse fibers. “You’d stare at Nadia’s tits during presentations. I’d shove between you two, grinding my elbow into your ribs like this.” She mimicked, pressing her forearm playfully against him, the pressure sending useless sparks. Water sloshed as she washed lower, soaping his thighs, balls heavy and ignored. A fingertip brushed his asshole accidentally—or not—making him gasp, the only sensation left in that dead zone a faint electric buzz.
Liam’s breath hitched. “Irina, fuck… that’s…”
“Intense, right? Bet you wish you could feel it all.” She laughed, low and dirty, rinsing him with a handheld shower that pounded like rain on tin. Her blouse clung transparent now, pink bra outlining heavy breasts that heaved with each scrub. She leaned in, lips inches from his ear. “Nadia says you’re game for anything. Wonder what she’d think of me testing the waters.”
That night, new tension simmered. Nadia returned late, kicking off heels that clattered like bones. The women shared wine on the couch, legs tangled, glasses clinking softly. Liam watched from his doorway, hidden shadows his ally. Irina’s hand trailed Nadia’s thigh, whispers turning to giggles. When they spotted him, Nadia crooked a finger. “Come, Liam. Join us for a drink. No excuses.”
Wheelchair rolled forward, he sat between them. Irina’s foot nudged his under the table—bare toes curling against his calf, silk-stockinged from Nadia’s discarded pantyhose. Nadia poured vodka shots, burning liquid searing throats. “To old friends,” she toasted, her free hand on Liam’s knee, squeezing flesh that didn’t respond but screamed in his brain. The air thickened with perfume—jasmine from Nadia, citrus from Irina—mingling with the sharp booze tang.
Irina leaned across him, kissing Nadia’s cheek, lips lingering. “Missed this, doc. City’s full of posers.” Their eyes met over his shoulder, electric. Liam’s heart hammered, trapped in their web.
Chapter 3: The Midnight Proposition 💋
A month in, the penthouse pulsed with unspoken fire. Liam lounged on the massive sectional in the living room, TV droning some forgotten flick, when the master bedroom door creaked. Out stepped Nadia and Irina, twin visions in thin silk robes that whispered against skin. Belts loose, fabric gaping to reveal curves—Nadia’s pert breasts, Irina’s fuller swell, both nipples dark shadows.
“Liam,” Nadia purred, voice like velvet over gravel. “We’ve talked. About you. Us. That time after you moved in… you and I, remember? How you devoured me despite your limitations.”
Irina sauntered closer, robe slipping off one shoulder. “She says you’re a natural pussy-pleaser. Even with that limp dick. We want a threesome. Full control, our rules. You game?”
His mouth dried, pulse thundering. “Hell yes. But… you know I can’t—”
“Shh.” Irina straddled his lap gently, robe pooling. Naked heat pressed his thigh, her trimmed bush tickling thigh hair. “We don’t care. We want tongues, lips, worship. Make it intense for us.” There it was—intense—like a spark igniting dry tinder.
Nadia untied her robe fully, dropping it like shed skin. Pale skin glowed under recessed lights, pussy lips plump and glistening already. She knelt, claiming his mouth first—tongue invading, tasting of mint and desire. Irina joined, three mouths meshing in sloppy, wet symphony, saliva trailing chins.
They tugged him toward the bedroom, robes discarded. King bed awaited, sheets crisp cotton. Irina shoved him flat, climbing aboard to grind her dripping slit along his sternum, leaving slick trails. “Lick upward, boy.” Tongue darted, salty musk flooding senses—her clit swollen pearl under flat laps.
Nadia straddled his face reverse, ass cheeks smothering, hole winking dark. “Eat my shithole too. Deep.” He obeyed, nose buried in folds, tongue plunging puckered ring that clenched greedily. She rocked, moans guttural. “Fuck, yes—intense pressure right there.”
Irina’s turn came fierce. She flipped, presenting globes—plump, jiggling as she spread wide. “Rim me while Nadia fingers herself watching.” Tongue swirled, earthy tang exploding, her farts accidental bursts that only amped the filth. Nadia masturbated furiously, fingers squelching, juices dripping on his chest.
New beat: Irina grabbed massage oil, new ritual. Slick hands worked Nadia’s back first, thumbs digging ass crack, probing. Liam watched, cock twitching futilely. “Your turn to oil tits,” Irina commanded, squirting globs on her own rack. He suckled, oil bitter on tongue, nipples like bullets.
Chapter 4: Flames of Forbidden Play
The room reeked of sex—sweat-slick skin, pussy nectar, faint anal musk hanging heavy. Nadia and Irina traded him like a toy, positioning limbs with doctorly precision. Irina lay spread-eagle, knees hooked over Liam’s shoulders. His mouth latched to her cunt, suction pulling lips inward, clit throbbed under flicks. “Suck harder—make it burn!” she growled, nails raking scalp.
Nadia mirrored from behind, licking Irina’s toes—each sucked slow, saliva strings connecting. “Pedicure for sluts,” she murmured. They switched, Liam inhaling Nadia’s foot—corners salty, arches smooth. Her pussy ground his chest, smearing wetness.
Ass worship ramped up. Irina bent doggy over bed edge, cheeks clapped apart. Liam’s tongue delved crack, circling rosebud, dipping in with thrusts that had her howling. “Deeper, you fuck—taste my guts!” Spanks rained from Nadia, handprints blooming red on pale flesh. Swap: Nadia’s hole tighter, flavor sharper, like forbidden fruit as he speared.
Flash of memory hit Liam—high school locker room, spying Irina bending for Nadia, skirts hiked. Now real, raw. They piled on: Irina face-sat him, grinding to orgasm, squirt flooding mouth in hot gush, tasting metallic sweet. Nadia tribbed Irina beside, clits kissing slick.
New scene erupted. Kitchen detour—midnight hunger. Irina hopped counter, legs splayed, pussy displayed amid crumbs. “Eat dessert here.” Liam wheeled close, tongue feasting as Nadia stirred tea, casual voyeur. Honey drizzled for flavor, sticky webs on thighs. Irina came bucking, knocking salt shaker—crash echoing like thunder.
Back to bed, intensity peaked. “Tie him,” Nadia whispered. Pills first—sedatives from her stash, swallowed bitter. Drowsiness crept, but lust overrode. Irina pinned wrists with velvet ropes—soft luxury masking restraint. “No escaping our hole now.”
Blindfold slipped on, world black. Senses exploded: wet slurps near his ear, fingers probing his ass sudden—two digits twisting prostate, faint pleasure piercing numbness. “Feel that, cripple? We’re inside you.” Voices mocked lovingly, mouths on cock—warm, futile suctions that teased.
They sixty-nined over him, Nadia atop Irina, pussies dripping on his face in turns. He lapped blindly, chins soaked. “Intense cum for him,” Irina begged, orgasms chaining—bodies quaking, screams piercing night.
Chapter 5: Surrender in Ecstasy 💋
Bound and hazy, Liam became their altar. Dawn light filtered through blinds, gilding sweat-sheened skin. Irina straddled chest, masturbating slow—fingers plunging audible squish, clit hood pulled back. “Watch me cream.” Cum arced, splattering tongue she fed him, musky cream licked clean.
Nadia joined reverse cowgirl on his face, asshole grinding nose. “Sniff my funk, lover.” Post-orgasm tang pungent, intoxicating. Irina fingered her from front, knuckles brushing his forehead. Crude talk flowed: “His tongue’s our bitch now.” “Bet he’d beg for ass-to-mouth if he could feel dick.”
New twist: Pool deck escape. Penthouse infinity pool shimmered under stars earlier— they’d dragged him out post-pill haze. Water lapped cool as Irina floated, legs wrapped his head underwater briefly, forced breath-holds on pussy. Nadia floated tits up, nipples laved between laps. Splashes masked moans, chlorine sharp in lungs.
Back inside, final frenzy. Sandwiched nude, Liam center. Breasts smothered him left-right, mouths owned his in rotations—kisses bruising, tongues dueling spit-slick. He nursed tits tandem, milkless but sucking vacuum, areolas puckered raw.
Irina knelt headboard-grip, ass out. Nadia guided his mouth: cheeks kissed globe to globe, crack tongued stem to stern, hole sucked vacuum-seal. “Pucker for him!” Farts bubbled playful, swallowed eager. Swap: Nadia’s cheeks meatier, spread wider, inner walls tasted deeper.
Climax built. Irina face-up, knees to ears, pussy yawning. Liam sideways, tongue-fucked as Nadia behind, finger-banging him sync. “Cum with us, sluts.” Orgasms crashed—Irina’s squirt fountain, Nadia’s guttural roar, bodies convulsing meat-locked.
They untied, cuddled spent. Fingers dipped cunts, offered tastes: Irina’s tangy flood, Nadia’s thicker honey. Sucked mutual, lips smeared. “Loved our asses equal?” Nadia teased.
“Can’t choose,” Liam rasped. “Both perfection.”
Giggles faded to sighs. Cancer loomed, but in this nest, pleasure reigned supreme—intense bonds forged in flesh, unbreakable. Night deepened, bodies entwined, breaths syncing slow. Liam drifted, numb body alive in echoes of their fire. 🔥
