The Red Lion lay quiet, its earlier clamour softened into a stillness that clung to the worn wood and dying embers in the hearth. Last call had slipped by unnoticed, and the landlord, Terry, had vanished—likely out back wrestling bins or scrubbing tables—leaving the pub to its final souls. Kevin sprawled in a booth, one arm slung over the backrest, the other cradling a pint gone flat, its bitterness dulled by neglect. Beside him, Moira shimmered, her red hair spilling over her shoulders like liquid fire, catching the dim light in a dance of shadows. Her blouse hugged her full, heavy breasts, the fabric taut across their generous swell, while her skirt clung to hips that moved with a hypnotic sway, a promise of lush curves and untamed grace. She was a vision, and Kevin still felt a quiet thrill that she was his.
Across the room, a lone figure lingered at the bar, nursing a whiskey with hands that seemed forged for breaking—broad, calloused, dwarfing the glass they held. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair falling just shy of neat, and those hands stood out, massive and commanding, a silent testament to strength.
“Big hands on that one,” Kevin remarked, his voice low, cutting through the hush. He held up his own hand, palm out, fingers splayed, and grinned. “Makes mine look like a kid’s.”
Moira’s lips curled into a smirk, her green eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned closer, her voice a warm, teasing murmur. “You know what they say about big hands, don’t you?”
Kevin chuckled, sipping his stale pint, the taste flat against his tongue. “Aye, I’ve heard the tales. Big hands, big… well, you know.”
The man—Liam, they’d soon discover—glanced over, catching the end of their exchange. His dark eyes met theirs for a fleeting moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips before he turned back to his drink. He didn’t contradict them, and that quiet confidence stirred something in Moira’s gaze, a flicker of curiosity Kevin didn’t miss.
She nudged him with her elbow, her tone playful but edged with intent. “He didn’t deny it. Maybe there’s truth to it.”
Kevin watched as Liam set his glass down and stood, stretching his arms in a slow, deliberate motion that pulled his shirt tight across his chest, revealing the hard lines of muscle beneath. “Off to the gents, looks like,” Kevin said, nodding as Liam disappeared down the short hallway.
Moira shifted closer, her breath brushing his ear, carrying the faint scent of lavender mingled with the sharp bite of whiskey. “You know,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like. A big one, I mean. Really big.”
Her words sent a jolt through him—not jealousy, but a pulse of heat that settled low in his gut. He turned to meet her gaze, saw the spark of challenge there, and decided to fan it. “Is that right?” he said, keeping his tone steady, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Fancy finding out?”
Her eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed, a cat sizing up its prey. “You’d let me?”
“Let’s make it interesting,” he said, leaning in. “Dare you to see how far you can take it. Invite him back to ours for a drink, and we’ll see where it goes.”
She bit her lip, considering, then glanced toward the hallway where Liam had gone. “Alright,” she said, her smile wicked and warm. “You’re on.”
His pulse kicked up a notch—a dare born of curiosity and trust, a plunge into the unknown they’d share. “Good,” he said, draining the last of his pint as Liam emerged, adjusting his jacket. “Let’s see what happens.”
“Hey, mate,” Kevin called out, his tone casual but laced with purpose. Liam paused, turning his head. Up close, he was even more imposing—six-foot-something, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and eyes that seemed to see right through you. “Fancy another drink? We’re just round the corner, got a bottle of something decent at home. Beats drinking alone, eh?”
Liam hesitated, then shrugged, that faint smirk returning. “Aye, why not? Name’s Liam.”
“Kevin,” he said, standing to clap him on the shoulder, feeling the solid weight of him. “This is Moira.”
She rose, a vision of curves and confidence, offering her hand with a smile that was pure honey. “Pleasure’s mine, Liam.” Her fingers lingered in his grip, and Kevin felt the night tilt toward something inevitable.
---
The walk back to their flat was brisk, the May air cool and sharp against their skin, heightening every sensation. Moira led the way, her hips swaying with a deliberate rhythm, her skirt brushing her thighs with each step, the fabric clinging to her in a way that drew the eye. Kevin hung back a pace, letting Liam take the middle, and didn’t miss how Liam’s gaze followed her, tracing the dip of her waist, the swell of her backside. The tension was palpable, a thread pulling taut between them all.
Inside, their flat was warm and lived-in, cluttered with books and mismatched furniture, the air soft with the scent of woodsmoke and Moira’s perfume. She kicked off her boots with a practiced flick, her bare feet padding across the floor as she called over her shoulder, “Whiskey or gin? We’ve got both.”
“Whiskey,” Liam said, settling onto the sofa with a creak of springs, his long legs stretching out, those massive hands resting on his thighs, fingers splayed in a way that seemed to claim the space.
“Whiskey it is,” Moira replied, returning from the kitchen with a bottle of Jameson and three glasses. She poured generously, the amber liquid glinting as it filled each tumbler, then sank onto the sofa beside Liam, close enough that her knee brushed his. Kevin took the armchair across from them, watching as she handed Liam his glass, her fingers grazing his with a slow, deliberate touch, her nails catching the light.
“To new friends,” she toasted, her voice a low, sultry purr, and they clinked glasses, the sound sharp in the quiet room. The whiskey burned smooth down Kevin’s throat, warming his chest, loosening the edges of the night.
They talked for a while—small things, pub gossip, the bite of the weather—but the conversation was a thin veil over the growing heat beneath. Moira was in her element, her laughter bright and musical as she leaned into Liam’s dry humour, her hand resting lightly on his arm when he made her smile. Her blouse shifted with each movement, the top button straining slightly, offering a glimpse of the creamy swell of her breasts. Kevin watched, content to let her lead, feeling the slow build of anticipation coil in his gut.
After the second glass, Moira set hers down, her movements languid, and turned to Liam with a teasing tilt of her head. “So, Liam,” she said, her voice dripping with intent, “Kevin here was saying you’ve got big hands. I reckon that’s got to mean something.”
Liam raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to Kevin, then back to her, a spark of amusement in his dark eyes. “Does it, now?” He lifted one hand, flexing it slowly, the fingers long and thick, the knuckles roughened by work. “Never had complaints.”
Moira’s laugh was low and throaty, sending a shiver down Kevin’s spine. “I bet you haven’t.” She shifted closer, her thigh pressing fully against his now, the heat of her body radiating through the thin fabric of her skirt. She glanced at Kevin, her eyes a silent question, and he nodded, a subtle tilt of his head, giving her the green light to dive deeper.
“You know,” she murmured, turning back to Liam, her hand sliding onto his thigh, fingers tracing the seam of his jeans, “I’ve always been curious about that saying. Whether it holds up.”
Liam’s gaze darkened, his breath catching as he set his glass aside with a deliberate clink. He leaned toward her, his voice a low rumble. “Curious, eh? How far does that curiosity stretch?”
She didn’t flinch, her fingers inching higher, brushing the hard line of muscle beneath the denim. “Far as it needs to,” she said, and looked to Kevin once more, her smile daring but warm. “Right, Kev?”
“Far as you want,” he replied, his voice steady despite the pulse pounding in his ears.
“Show me.”
Liam’s hand settled over hers, his palm engulfing her delicate fingers, and he turned his head to Kevin. “You’re alright with this?”
“More than alright,” Kevin said, leaning back in his chair, his own arousal stirring as he met Liam’s gaze. “She’s got my blessing.”
Liam’s smile was slow, almost feral, and he turned back to Moira, his free hand sliding to her waist. “Well, then. Let’s see where this takes us.”
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t hesitate. Her fingers found his belt, deftly working the buckle loose with a soft clink that echoed in the quiet room. Liam shifted, parting his legs wider, giving her space as she tugged at his jeans, her movements eager yet precise. Kevin watched, his chest tight, as she slid the denim down, revealing the taut expanse of Liam’s thighs, the dark hair dusting his skin. When she freed him, her gasp was audible, her eyes widening at the sight—Liam was thick, long, already hard, his cock straining against the air, a daunting promise of what she’d craved.
“Bloody hell,” she whispered, her voice thick with awe, her hand hovering for a moment before wrapping around him, her fingers barely meeting around his girth. She glanced at Kevin, her cheeks flushed. “You weren’t kidding about letting me find out.”
“Never am,” he said, his grin widening despite the heat pooling in his lap. “Taste him, love. Start there.”
Her eyes lit up, a mix of excitement and hunger, and she slid off the sofa to her knees between Liam’s legs, her skirt riding up to expose the smooth, pale expanse of her thighs. Liam watched her, his breath shallow, as she leaned in, her red hair falling forward to frame her face. Her tongue darted out, tentative at first, flicking against the tip of him, tasting the bead of precum that glistened there. Liam groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the room, his hand settling lightly on her head, fingers threading into her hair.
Moira took her time, her lips parting to take him deeper, her tongue swirling around the head, tracing the thick vein that pulsed beneath his skin. She hummed softly, the vibration drawing another low growl from Liam as she adjusted to his size, her mouth stretching to accommodate him. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, slow and deliberate, savouring the weight of him, the salt and heat of his flesh against her tongue. Kevin watched, transfixed, his own cock twitching in his jeans at the sight—her lips glossy, her eyes half-lidded with focus, the soft, wet sounds of her mouth filling the air.
She pulled back with a soft, wet pop, her lips glistening as she licked them, her breath ragged. “Tastes good,” she said, her voice husky, her gaze flicking to Liam, then Kevin. “But I want more.”
Liam’s chuckle was rough, his hand tightening in her hair. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”
“Always,” she purred, climbing back into his lap, her movements fluid and confident. She straddled him, her skirt bunching around her hips, her panties tugged aside with a quick flick of her fingers, revealing the slick, swollen folds of her pussy, already wet with anticipation. Kevin caught the glint of her arousal, the faint musk of her scent mingling with the whiskey in the air, and his mouth went dry.
She positioned herself above Liam, her hand guiding him, the thick head of his cock brushing against her entrance, parting her lips with its blunt weight. She sank down slowly, inch by torturous inch, her breath hitching as her body stretched to take him. Her moan was raw, unrestrained, a sound that clawed at Kevin’s insides as she adjusted, her inner walls yielding to his girth, the sensation of fullness drawing a shiver through her frame. Her hips trembled slightly, her fingers digging into Liam’s shoulders as she took him fully, her ass resting against his thighs, her pussy stretched taut around his length.
“Fuck,” she gasped, her voice breaking, her head tipping back as she paused, letting herself feel every inch, the pressure of him pressing against places she’d never felt so keenly. “That’s… so fucking big.”
Liam’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, steadying her as he rocked his hips gently, testing her. “Too much?” he asked, his voice low, rough with restraint.
“No,” she said quickly, her tone firm despite the strain, and began to move, rolling her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. Her breasts bounced beneath her blouse, the fabric shifting to reveal more of her cleavage, the hard peaks of her nipples pressing against the cotton. “God, it’s good,” she breathed, her pace quickening, her thighs flexing as she rode him, the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies meeting filling the room.
Kevin couldn’t tear his eyes away. The sight of her—hair wild, lips parted, her body undulating atop Liam—was a fever dream brought to life. Liam’s hands slid up her blouse, unbuttoning it with deft fingers, peeling it open to free her breasts. They spilled out, full and heavy, the rosy nipples taut with arousal, swaying with each roll of her hips. Liam leaned forward, capturing one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before sucking hard, drawing it between his teeth. Moira cried out, her rhythm faltering as pleasure spiked through her, her back arching to press herself closer, her hands clutching his head to hold him there.
Her movements grew more desperate, her hips grinding down harder, chasing the friction she craved. Liam matched her, his hands guiding her, lifting her slightly before pulling her back down, impaling her deeper with each thrust. Her moans climbed higher, a litany of gasps and curses spilling from her lips as she rode him, her pussy clenching around his cock, the stretch and fullness driving her toward the edge. Kevin watched, his breath shallow, as her thighs began to tremble, her rhythm stuttering, her body tensing with the imminent release.
“Fuck, Liam,” she whimpered, her voice raw, her nails digging into his shoulders as she slammed down one last time, her hips grinding against him. Her orgasm hit hard, a sharp, keening cry tearing from her throat as her pussy spasmed around him, her body shuddering with the force of it. Her breasts heaved with each ragged breath, her skin flushed a deep pink, and she clung to Liam, riding out the waves, her head tipped back in abandon.
But she wasn’t done. As the aftershocks faded, she slid off him with a shaky laugh, her legs trembling as she rolled onto her knees, her skirt still bunched around her waist. She crawled toward Kevin, her eyes dark with hunger, and draped her torso across his lap, her breasts pressing against his thighs, her ass raised high in invitation. “Take me from behind,” she said, her voice a husky command as she looked back at Liam, her hair spilling over Kevin’s legs. “Hard.”
Liam didn’t need asking twice. He shed his jeans fully, kicking them aside, his cock still hard and slick with her arousal, glistening in the low light. He moved behind her, his massive hands gripping her hips, pulling her back toward him. Kevin felt the weight of her against him, her soft, warm skin pressing into his lap, her breath hot against his thigh as she braced herself, her fingers curling into his jeans for support.
Liam positioned himself, the thick head of his cock nudging her entrance again, and then he thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Moira gasped, her body jolting forward, her breasts swaying beneath her as Liam set a punishing pace, his hips slamming against her ass with a force that sent ripples through her flesh. The sound was visceral—wet, rhythmic slaps echoing through the room, mingling with her moans, sharp and unrestrained, each thrust driving the air from her lungs.
Kevin’s hands settled on her shoulders, steadying her as Liam fucked her, his fingers brushing the damp strands of hair clinging to her neck. Her body rocked against him, her breasts bouncing with each impact, her nipples grazing his thighs through his jeans, sending jolts of heat through him. She turned her head, her lips brushing his ear, her breath ragged as she whispered, “He’s so fucking deep, Kev,” her voice trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure, her pussy stretched wide around Liam’s relentless cock.
Liam’s hands tightened on her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, leaving red marks as he pounded into her, his grunts growing harsher, more primal. Her ass jiggled with each thrust, the skin flushed from the force, and Kevin could see the way her pussy gripped him, the slick sheen of her arousal coating his shaft as he pulled back, only to slam in again. Moira’s moans turned to cries, her body shaking under the onslaught, her clit rubbing against the edge of Kevin’s lap with each brutal drive, building her toward another peak.
“Fuck, Moira, I'm gonna cum,” Liam growled, his voice strained, his pace faltering as his own climax loomed. “Where do you want it?”
“Inside,” she gasped, her voice fierce, her eyes locking with Kevin’s for a split second, wild and unyielding. “Fill me up.”
Liam groaned, a deep, guttural sound, and thrust hard one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go. His body tensed, his cock pulsing inside her, and Kevin felt her shudder against him as Liam came, flooding her with heat, his release spilling into her in thick, heavy spurts. The sensation tipped her over again—her second climax crashing through her, her pussy clenching around him, milking every drop as she cried out, her voice breaking, her body trembling violently in Kevin’s lap. Her nails dug into his thighs, her breath hot and ragged against his neck as she rode it out, her ass pressed flush against Liam’s hips, his hands still gripping her tight.
When Liam finally pulled out, slow and deliberate, a trickle of his cum followed, dripping down her thighs, pooling against Kevin’s jeans where she rested. She slumped forward, her torso heavy against him, her breaths coming in shallow pants, her skin slick with sweat. Liam sat back on his heels, catching his breath, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Well,” he said, his voice rough, “that was… something.”
Moira laughed, a shaky, breathless sound, and nuzzled into Kevin’s chest as he wrapped an arm around her, her body still trembling faintly. “Best nightcap I’ve had in ages,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw, her lips warm and swollen.
Liam stood, stretching his arms above his head, his shirt pulling tight across his chest. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Thanks for the drink—and the rest.”
“Anytime,” Kevin said, his voice steady despite the heat still coursing through him, surprised by how much he meant it.
The door clicked shut behind Liam, and Moira shifted beside Kevin, a soft wince escaping her lips as she adjusted her position, her hands pressing lightly against her thighs. “Bloody hell, Kev,” she muttered, her voice low and rough, “my pussy’s taken a proper beating. Stretched in ways I’m not used to. Feels like I’ve been torn open and put back together.”
Kevin pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her body against his. “Worth it, though?” he asked, his smirk softening into something tender.
“Oh, aye,” she said, her grin crooked despite the discomfort, her eyes still hazy with afterglow. “Worth every second. But fuck, it’s sore now. He was… so much.”
“Want me to kiss it better?” he teased, his tone light, though the words caught in his throat as he realized what that would mean—tasting Liam’s aftermath, still fresh and mingled with her.
Her laugh was wicked, her eyes glinting as she turned to him, catching the flicker of hesitation in his face. “You offered, love,” she said, her voice a sultry challenge. “I’m holding you to it.”
He blinked, a flush creeping up his neck, then chuckled, the sound rough with nerves and heat. “Moira, you’re a devil. You mean it?”
“Dead serious,” she said, leaning back against the sofa, parting her thighs with a slow, deliberate motion that made her skirt ride higher, exposing the flushed, swollen expanse of her pussy. “Come here and make me feel good again.”
His heart thudded, a mix of anticipation and raw desire surging through him. He’d seen her unravel twice tonight—why not a third? He slid off the sofa, settling on his knees between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs, feeling the tremor in her muscles. She lifted her skirt fully, baring herself to him, her folds glistening with a mix of her arousal and Liam’s cum, the scent sharp and intoxicating—her musk, his salt, a heady blend that made his mouth water despite the fleeting reservation.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his voice thick, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned in.
“Always,” she replied, her smirk softening into a sigh as she guided his head down, her fingers threading into his hair.
He started slow, his lips brushing her tender, swollen folds, tasting the slick heat of her, the faint bitterness of Liam’s release still lingering. She sighed, a soft, contented sound, her body relaxing under his touch. His tongue flicked out, tentative at first, tracing the seam of her, lapping at the warmth that flowed from her core. Liam’s cum spilled out, thick and creamy, coating his tongue, and Kevin swallowed it down, the act igniting a primal hunger he hadn’t expected. His reservation melted away, replaced by a greedy need to claim every drop, to soothe her and savour her all at once.
Moira’s breath hitched, her hips shifting slightly as he pressed deeper, his tongue delving into her, exploring the stretched, sensitive walls of her pussy. She was slick and hot, her taste a mix of sweet and sharp, and he could feel the faint pulse of her arousal building again, her body responding despite the soreness she’d complained of. “Kev,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need, “don’t stop.”
He didn’t intend to. His hands slid under her thighs, lifting them slightly, opening her wider as he buried his face against her, his tongue circling her clit with a slow, deliberate pressure. She moaned, louder now, her fingers tightening in his hair, urging him on. He sucked gently, drawing the swollen bud into his mouth, his lips working it as his tongue flicked over the tip, and her hips bucked, a fresh wave of wetness flooding against him—hers, Liam’s, all of it mingling in a torrent he drank down eagerly.
“Fuck, yes,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her thighs clamped around his head, trembling with the strain. He could feel her climbing, her breaths coming in short, desperate pants, and he pushed harder, his tongue diving back into her core, lapping at the deepest reaches where Liam’s release still pooled, thick and warm. He swallowed every drop, his throat working as he took her in, his own arousal pulsing painfully in his jeans at the sheer intimacy of it.
Her climax hit sudden and fierce, her body seizing as she cried out, a sharp, wild sound that echoed through the flat. Her pussy clenched around his tongue, a flood of warmth spilling over his lips, her thighs shaking as she rode the waves of pleasure. Kevin kept going, his mouth relentless, drawing out every shudder, every gasp, until she was a trembling mess, her hands tugging at his hair to pull him away.
He pulled back finally, his lips and chin slick, his breath ragged as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning up at her. Her face was flushed a deep pink, her eyes glassy with satisfaction, a lazy smirk tugging at her swollen lips.
“Better?” he asked, his voice hoarse, thick with the taste of her still lingering on his tongue.
“Bloody brilliant,” she said, her chest heaving as she pulled him up, her lips crashing into his in a kiss that was messy and deep, tasting herself and Liam on his mouth. “You’re a fucking keeper, Kev.”
“Damn right,” he said, settling beside her, his arm wrapping around her as she nestled into his side, her body warm and pliant against him. His own need throbbed, insistent, but it paled against the glow of her satisfaction, the raw connection they’d forged through the night. “Bedtime? Or you want a bath first?” Brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve earned it.”
She nuzzled his neck, her smirk returning as her hand slid down his chest, teasing at his waistband. “Bath I think after that,” she murmured, her voice a promise, “But I’ve still got plans for you yet. Sore or not.”
