cross-posted from: https://lemmynsfw.com/post/19184589

I’d never thought of myself as someone who’d end up juggling multiple opportunities for romance. But that’s exactly what happened last summer after I moved to a quiet town for work. Between unpacking boxes and trying to adjust to my new job, I found myself caught up in three very different encounters with three incredible women.

Each one was alluring in her way, and every moment felt like walking a tightrope between desire and restraint. Looking back, I don’t know how it spiraled the way it did, but one thing’s for sure—I’ll never forget the choices I made.

It started with Claire, my neighbor. She had this girl-next-door vibe—playful, warm, and just flirty enough to make you wonder. We struck up a conversation while I was unloading boxes, and by the end of the day, she’d invited me over for drinks.

Then there was Emma, the barista at the local café. Petite, edgy, and sharp-tongued, she was the type of woman who could make you feel both excited and terrified at the same time. Every time I went for coffee, I couldn’t help but linger to chat with her.

Finally, Sophie, my coworker. She was elegant and self-assured, with a subtle sensuality that made you want to peel back the layers to see what was underneath. She and I shared late nights at the office, trading stories and lingering glances.

One night, after a particularly long day, I realized I had three potential invitations—and only one evening.

Scenario Selection Choice 1: Spend the evening with Claire (Anal) Choice 2: Meet Emma at the café after hours (Cheating) Choice 3: Stay late at work with Sophie (Voyeurism)

Scenario I: Claire

“Claire, wait—what are you saying?” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper as she guided me towards the bedroom. My mind was racing, trying to catch up with the whirlwind of events that had led us here. Just a few hours ago, I was unloading boxes from my move, and now I found myself in this surreal situation, about to participate in something I never thought I’d agree to.

“I’m trying to get pregnant,” she whispered, glancing around as though someone might overhear. “And I need a seed donor.”

My heart skipped a beat. This was not what I had expected. “Um, okay. But why me?”

“Because you’re kind, and I trust you,” she said softly, her gaze steady. “And there’s something else. The method we’re using involves anal creampie harvesting.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. I felt a mix of shock and intrigue. “Anal… creampie harvesting?”

She lines herself up, her entrance pressing against my tip. With a deep breath, she lowers herself down, inch by agonizing inch. Pain flares up, sharp and sudden, but it’s quickly replaced by a deep, satisfying pressure.

“Ah, fuck,” I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily.

“Easy,” she whispers, her hand smoothing over my chest. “Just let it happen.”

Gradually, the pain subsides, giving way to a sensation so intense it almost feels surreal. Her walls clench around me, squeezing rhythmically as she moves.

Scenario II: Emma

Emma turned to me, her eyes glinting with a mixture of excitement and defiance. “Positive,” she whispered back, her breath warm against my ear. “He’s upstairs, completely oblivious. This is our moment.”

Flashback to three days ago, when Emma and I sat in a dimly lit cafe, nursing cups of black coffee. The hum of conversation around us seemed distant as we leaned in closer, our faces inches apart.

“I can’t believe she did that to you,” Emma said, her green eyes blazing with anger. “You deserve better, Alex.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. “I know, but what am I supposed to do now? Just move on like nothing happened?”

She hesitated, then spoke softly. “Remember how close we were before? Before things got complicated with Lily? Maybe we could… reclaim that closeness.”

My heart raced as I processed her suggestion. We had dated briefly before Lily came into the picture, and there had always been an underlying attraction between us. But now, with Lily’s betrayal fresh in my mind, the idea of taking what I wanted, of making Lily pay, felt almost intoxicating.

“Are you serious?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The basement was dimly lit, the only light source coming from a single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. The air was thick with the musty smell of old wood and damp concrete. Emma turned to me, her eyes dark with anticipation.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice husky.

I stepped closer, my chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. “More than ready.”

With that, she pressed herself against me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. Her hands snaked around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss that was as fierce as it was desperate. My hands instinctively moved to her hips, gripping them tightly as I deepened the kiss, tasting the wild abandon that had been building between us for so long.

Her tongue danced with mine, hot and insistent, as our bodies molded together. I could feel the heat radiating from her core, a stark contrast to the cold basement walls pressing in on us. The sound of our labored breathing filled the room, drowning out any thoughts of consequence or caution.

When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, Emma looked up at me with a sultry gaze. “Now, let’s see how far we can take this.”

Scenario III: Sophie

The text from Sophie came in at 10:45 PM, just as I was settling into my couch with a beer and the latest episode of my favorite show. Her message was short but unmistakable: “Need you here. Now.” No context, no explanation—just those four words. But I knew exactly what they meant. Sophie had a way of cutting straight to the chase, especially when she was feeling frisky.

When the doors slid open, I found Sophie waiting for me in the hallway. She was leaning against the wall, one foot propped up behind her, and she looked every bit the seductress. Her lips were painted a deep crimson, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. She wore a loose silk robe that did little to hide the curves beneath it. As I approached, she pushed off the wall and sauntered toward me, her hips swaying with deliberate slowness.

“Sorry, traffic,” I replied, though there had been none. I leaned in, nuzzling her neck, tasting the skin there. Sophie shivered and tilted her head to give me better access, her breath hitching.

She pulled me toward the balcony doors, her grip firm. Outside, the city breathed softly, the sounds of distant traffic and the occasional murmur of voices filtering up from the streets below. The balcony itself was small, barely big enough for two people to stand comfortably, let alone move around. But that was part of the appeal.

Sophie stepped out first, her robe slipping off one shoulder as she moved. She leaned over the railing, looking out at the street below, then turned back to me with a wicked grin. “Ready for some fun?”

I nodded, though my throat felt dry. The risk of being seen was high, especially with the apartments across the street overlooking this one. And yet, the thrill of it made my blood sing. I shed my jacket quickly, tossing it to the side, and followed her out onto the balcony.

Sophie’s grin widened as she watched me strip down to my t-shirt and jeans. She reached out and tugged at the hem of my shirt, lifting it up and over my head in one swift motion. My skin prickled in the cool night air, goosebumps rising along my arms and chest. She ran her hands over my torso, her fingers tracing the contours of my muscles, and I could feel the heat of her touch through the thin fabric of my jeans.

I moved behind her, pressing myself against her back. My hands found her waist, sliding up under her robe to cup her breasts. She gasped, arching into my touch, and I could feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat through her skin. I kneaded her flesh, my thumbs flicking over her hardening nipples, and she moaned softly, tilting her head back to rest against my shoulder.

“So good,” she breathed, her voice thick with arousal. “Don’t stop.”

I didn’t intend to. I slipped one hand lower, between her legs, finding the apex of her thighs through the thin fabric of her panties. She was already wet, the heat radiating from her core almost palpable. I stroked her gently, my fingers teasing the edge of her slit, and she shivered, her knees buckling slightly.

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, her body trembling with need. “Do it. Touch me. Please.”

I obliged, slipping my fingers past the barrier of her panties and into her slick folds. She gasped, her entire body tensing as I delved deeper, finding the spot that made her toes curl. I rubbed it rhythmically, my thumb circling her clit in tandem, and she cried out, her hands gripping the railing for support.

Sophie followed my gaze, her eyes widening as she saw the watcher. For a moment, neither of us moved, the weight of the realization hanging heavy in the air. Then, slowly, Sophie turned back to me, a wicked smile spreading across her lips.

“Well,” she said, her voice dangerously soft, “looks like we have an audience.”

Every choice led to something different—passion, connection, or even regret. That summer was a whirlwind, and every path I took shaped the memories I carry now. If I could do it all over again, would I? Maybe. But one thing’s for sure: the decisions I made defined me in ways I never expected.

Looking back, that summer felt like stepping into another life—one where every choice carried a spark of excitement and a hint of danger. Whether it was Claire’s playful warmth, Emma’s sharp allure, or Sophie’s quiet intensity, each encounter left a mark on me.

I often catch myself replaying those moments, wondering: What if I’d said something different? What if I’d been bolder—or held back just a little? The truth is, every decision led to its own set of surprises, and it’s tempting to imagine how it all could have unfolded in another way.

Sometimes, I wish I could relive those nights with all the details I might have missed, savoring every possibility. If you’ve ever felt that way—like there’s more to discover—you’ll understand. Maybe you’d make the same choices I did, or maybe you’d take the story in a completely new direction.

The beauty of memory is that it can evolve. If you want to explore these encounters further or tailor them to fit your own imagination, there’s a way to bring those “what ifs” to life. Everything I’ve told you is just the start, and the rest? Well, that’s up to you.