Belinda's hands tremble as she grips the steering wheel, her wedding ring catching the neon glow from the club's sign. The word "DESIRES" pulses in electric blue above the entrance, each flash sending a jolt of anxiety through her chest. Next to her, Cory grins with boyish excitement, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her. This is his thirtieth birthday present—a night at a strip club—her idea, yet now that they're here, parked in the lot with bass thumping faintly through the walls, she wonders if she's made a terrible mistake.

"You sure about this?" Cory asks, his hand squeezing her thigh. "We can still go somewhere else if you're uncomfortable."

Belinda forces a smile, smooths down her dress—a little black number that hugs her curves just enough to be sexy without screaming desperate. "No, it's your birthday. You deserve something special." She takes a deep breath, inhaling the lingering scent of her perfume. "Besides, I'm curious too."

That last part isn't entirely a lie. She's spent the entire day preparing—trying on outfits, applying makeup with extra care, rehearsing what she'd say when they arrived. But now that they're here, her throat feels tight, constricted by something more complex than simple nervousness.

"Let's do this," she says, more to herself than to him.

The club entrance feels like a boundary between two worlds. Belinda hesitates at the threshold, her heels suddenly unstable beneath her. Cory's hand finds the small of her back, warm and reassuring through the thin fabric of her dress. The bouncer nods them through after checking IDs, his expression professionally blank.

Inside, the assault on her senses is immediate—the music pounds at a volume that makes her sternum vibrate. The lighting alternates between dim and pulsing, creating disorienting shadows. The air is heavy with perfume, alcohol, and something else—a hint of sweat and arousal that makes her nostrils flare.

"Holy shit," Cory whispers, his eyes wide as they adjust to the darkness.

Belinda follows his gaze to the main stage, where a woman with impossibly long legs is spinning around a pole, her body defying gravity. The dancer's skin glistens under the spotlights, her small breasts bouncing with each movement. Belinda finds herself staring, cataloging details—the dancer's toned abdomen, the curve of her ass, the confident smirk she throws to a patron at the edge of the stage.

"Let's get a drink," she says quickly, tugging Cory toward the bar.

The bartender is tall, with graying temples and eyes that have seen everything. His name tag reads 'Marcus.' He glances between them as they approach, a cynical smile playing at his lips.

"What can I get you?" Marcus asks, already reaching for glasses.

"Whiskey, neat," Cory says. "And whatever my wife wants."

"Vodka cranberry," Belinda manages, her voice higher than usual.

Marcus nods, mixing their drinks with practiced efficiency. "Anniversary gift?" he asks, sliding their glasses across the polished surface. "Nothing says 'I love you' like watching your partner drool over someone else."

Heat rushes to Belinda's face, but Cory just laughs. "Birthday, actually. My wife's idea."

Marcus raises an eyebrow at Belinda. "Brave woman. Or confident."

"Maybe both," she says, taking her drink and turning away before he can see the uncertainty in her eyes.

They find seats near the stage, close enough to see everything but not right at the edge where patrons slip bills into g-strings. The seats are plush velvet, sticky in places Belinda doesn't want to think about. She sips her drink, welcoming the burn as it slides down her throat.

The MC announces the next performer, Jade, and the music changes to something with a harder beat. A woman with a pixie cut and elaborate tattoo sleeves emerges from behind a curtain. Her routine is athletic, powerful—less about seduction and more about strength as she climbs the pole and spins in configurations that defy physics.

Belinda watches Cory more than she watches Jade. His eyes widen, his lips part slightly, and he leans forward in his seat. There's no hiding his arousal, and something tightens in Belinda's chest. It's not exactly jealousy—she expected this—but something more complicated. A heat spreads across her face, and she shifts in her seat, surprised to feel dampness between her thighs.

She sips her drink again, faster now. Is it normal to feel this way? To be turned on by watching her husband get turned on by another woman? Or is it something else—is she aroused by Jade herself? The thought makes her gulp her vodka cranberry, ice cubes clicking against her teeth.

"This place is wild," Cory says, turning to her with a grin that's both excited and a little sheepish.

"Yeah," Belinda agrees, forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Wild."

Jade finishes her routine to enthusiastic applause, collecting bills from the stage before disappearing behind the curtain. There's a brief interlude where the lights come up slightly and a different song plays through the speakers.

"You okay?" Cory asks, leaning close enough that his breath tickles her ear.

"Fine," she says automatically. "Just... taking it all in."

The MC returns, voice sliding through the speakers like silk. "And now, gentlemen—and ladies—please welcome to the stage... Semi."

The lights dim further, and a slow, hypnotic beat fills the club. From behind the velvet curtain emerges a woman who makes Belinda's breath catch in her throat. Semi is tall, with curves that her costume—a complicated arrangement of black leather straps and sheer mesh—both conceals and reveals. Her movements are deliberate, each step calculated to draw the eye. Unlike Jade's athletic performance, Semi's routine is pure seduction.

As she moves around the stage, Semi makes eye contact with patrons, her gaze lingering just long enough to create the illusion of connection. But when her eyes meet Belinda's, something shifts. Semi holds the gaze a beat too long, her lips curving into a smile that feels impossibly personal.

Belinda looks away, suddenly conscious of her breathing. But moments later, when she dares to look again, Semi is watching her while sliding a panel of mesh away from her breasts. Their eyes lock, and Semi winks—not at Cory, not at the men lining the stage, but at Belinda.

Semi drops to her knees, crawling forward with feline grace. She pauses at the edge of the stage, directly in front of their table. Her smile is intimate, uncanny in its sincerity. Belinda's heart pounds so hard she's sure everyone can hear it over the music. Her mouth goes dry, and her hands tremble as she reaches for her drink, nearly spilling it.

The performance concludes with Semi in a dramatic pose, her body arched back, exposing the long line of her throat. She straightens, takes her final bow, and before disappearing behind the curtain, her eyes find Belinda's one last time.

Belinda downs the rest of her drink in one gulp, ice hitting her upper lip. Her mind races with confusing new desires, thoughts she's never allowed herself to explore before. Next to her, Cory shifts in his seat, adjusting himself discreetly.

"Another round?" he asks, voice slightly hoarse.

"Yes," Belinda says, too quickly. The alcohol is already working through her system, lowering barriers she didn't know she'd erected. A dangerous idea forms in her mind, exciting and terrifying in equal measure.

When Cory returns with fresh drinks, Belinda leans close to him, her lips brushing his ear. "You should get a lap dance from her."

Cory's eyes widen in surprise. "From Semi? Are you serious?"

Belinda nods, heart racing at her own suggestion. "It's your birthday. I want you to enjoy it."

"Are you sure?" Cory asks, squeezing her hand. There's excitement in his eyes, but also concern.

"I'm sure," Belinda says, standing on legs that feel unsteady. "I'll go arrange it."

At the bar, she catches Marcus's knowing look as she asks about arranging a private dance. He points her toward a hostess who handles such requests. The woman takes Belinda's money and disappears backstage, returning moments later with Semi, now wrapped in a sheer robe that does little to conceal her body.

"Your husband?" Semi asks, her eyes on Belinda rather than Cory, who waits at their table.

"Yes," Belinda says, her voice barely audible over the music. "It's his birthday."

Semi's fingers brush against Belinda's as she takes the money, the touch lingering just a moment too long. "And you'll be joining us?"

The question sends a shock of electricity down Belinda's spine. "I—yes. To watch."

Semi's smile is knowing, almost predatory. "Of course. Follow me."

As Semi leads them toward the private rooms at the back of the club, Belinda's pulse hammers in her ears. She's about to watch another woman dance for her husband, possibly touch him, arouse him. Yet all she can think about is the way Semi looked at her, the brief touch of their hands, and the inexplicable ache building between her thighs.

At the entrance to the private area, Belinda hesitates for just a moment. Semi looks back, catching her eye with a gaze that seems to see right through her pretenses. Belinda takes a deep breath and follows them inside.

The private room is smaller than Belinda expected, with dim red lighting casting a sultry glow. A leather armchair faces a small platform, and mirrors line the walls. The air is thick with anticipation and perfume. Semi gestures for Cory to sit, while Belinda hesitates before settling on a loveseat against the wall, perfectly positioned to watch her husband and the dancer.

"Comfortable?" Semi asks, her voice lower and more intimate than it was on stage. She's addressing Cory, but her eyes flick to Belinda, lingering for a moment that stretches like taffy.

"Very," Cory replies, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. His excitement is palpable, his eyes bright with anticipation. He shoots Belinda a quick glance—checking for reassurance or permission, she's not sure which.

Semi touches a panel on the wall, and the music changes to something slower, more hypnotic than the pounding beats in the main club. She steps onto the small platform and begins to move, her body undulating in perfect sync with the rhythm. Unlike her stage performance, there's something more intimate about this dance, as if she's revealing a secret only the three of them will share.

Semi maintains eye contact with Cory, but every few movements, her gaze drifts to Belinda. Each time their eyes meet, a flutter awakens in Belinda's stomach, something between anxiety and excitement. She shifts on the loveseat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, suddenly aware of the dampness between her thighs.

"Your wife is beautiful," Semi says to Cory, but she's looking at Belinda as she says it. Her hands trace the contours of her own body, lingering at the straps of her costume. "You're a lucky man."

Cory nods, seemingly incapable of speech as Semi steps down from the platform and approaches him. His eyes are fixed on her body, on the way the leather straps frame her breasts, on the sheer mesh that offers tantalizing glimpses of what lies beneath.

Belinda's breath quickens as she watches Semi circle Cory's chair, trailing her fingertips across his shoulders. She's torn between looking away and staring more intently. This was her idea—her gift to Cory—so why does she feel like the recipient of something unexpected?

Semi begins to dismantle her costume piece by piece. A buckle here, a strap there. Each removed element reveals more skin, more curves. She does this inches from Cory, close enough that he could touch her if he dared, though club rules forbid it. Each discarded piece falls to the floor with deliberate slowness.

"Does your wife watch you with other women often?" Semi asks, her voice a purr. She's down to a sheer bra and a thong now, the last remnants of her elaborate costume.

"N-no," Cory stammers. "First time."

Semi smiles, a predatory curl of lips that makes Belinda's heart skip. "A special occasion, then. We should make it memorable."

With that, she turns and looks directly at Belinda, maintaining eye contact as she straddles Cory's lap. Belinda's mouth goes dry. She should feel jealous, watching another woman position herself on her husband's lap, but instead, she feels a different emotion entirely—one she doesn't want to name.

Semi begins to grind against Cory, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate motions. The friction draws a low moan from him, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles turn white. Club rules say no touching the dancers, and he's struggling to comply.

"You can hold my hips," Semi tells him, guiding his hands to rest on her sides. "Just there, nowhere else."

Cory's breathing grows ragged as Semi increases her pace. Belinda watches, transfixed, as his face contorts with pleasure. She should look away—this feels too intimate, too private—but she can't tear her eyes from the scene. Her own breath comes faster, matching the rhythm Semi sets.

Belinda's nipples harden beneath her blouse, sensitive against the fabric as her chest rises and falls. A heat spreads through her body, pooling between her legs where she's become embarrassingly wet. She presses her thighs together, seeking pressure, relief, something to address the ache building there.

Semi catches her movement and smiles knowingly, never breaking the rhythm of her dance. "Your wife is enjoying the show," she tells Cory, though her eyes remain on Belinda. "I can tell."

Belinda flushes, caught in her arousal. She should deny it, should look away or leave the room, but she remains frozen, captivated by the scene unfolding before her. In the mirrors surrounding them, she catches glimpses of herself—flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes wide with a hunger she's never acknowledged before.

Cory's grip on Semi's hips tightens, his moans growing louder. "I—I can't—" he gasps, his body tensing.

Semi seems to sense what's happening. She grinds harder, faster, pushing him over the edge deliberately. "Let go," she whispers, loud enough for Belinda to hear. "Show your wife how good it feels."

With a strangled groan, Cory climaxes, his body jerking beneath Semi. His face is a mixture of ecstasy and surprise, perhaps embarrassment at his lack of control. Semi slows her movements gradually, easing him through the aftershocks, before sliding off his lap with graceful efficiency.

"I'm sorry," Cory gasps, face flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't apologize," Semi interrupts, already turning away from him. "It's a compliment."

Belinda sits frozen, unsure how to react. She's seen Cory orgasm countless times during their marriage, but never like this, never with another woman. What shocks her most is not that it happened, but how much it aroused her to watch.

Semi's attention now shifts entirely to Belinda. She steps toward the loveseat, hand outstretched, a silent invitation hanging in the air between them. Her smile is different now—less performative, more genuine, and somehow more dangerous for it.

"Your turn," Semi says softly.

The room falls silent except for the low throb of music and Cory's still-labored breathing. Belinda stares at Semi's outstretched hand, her heart hammering against her ribs like it might break free. This isn't what she had arranged, nor what she had expected, and yet she couldn't deny the electric current running through her body at the thought of Semi's attention being focused solely on her.

Cory watches from his chair, making no move to intervene. His expression is curious, perhaps even eager, giving silent permission for whatever might happen next.

Belinda's throat feels tight, her voice trapped somewhere between desire and fear. Semi waits, patient and predatory, hand still extended. The moment stretches, taut with possibility and the promise of crossing a line Belinda never thought she'd approach.

"I've never..." Belinda manages to whisper, the rest of her sentence disappearing into the charged air between them.

"I know," Semi replies, her smile widening. "That's what makes it special."

Semi's outstretched hand hovers between them, an invitation Belinda never expected to receive, let alone consider. Her heart pounds so hard she feels light-headed, every pulse sending heat through her veins. She should say no. She should stand up, straighten her clothes, and suggest they leave. Instead, her own hand rises as if controlled by someone else, trembling slightly as it meets Semi's. The dancer's skin is warm, her grip firm as she pulls Belinda to her feet, bringing their bodies close enough that Belinda can feel the heat radiating between them.

"I've never done this before," Belinda whispers, her voice barely audible over the low throb of music.

"I know," Semi replies, her free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from Belinda's face. "Your eyes gave you away the moment you walked in."

Belinda swallows hard, acutely aware of Cory watching from his chair, of the mirrors reflecting their every move, of Semi's near-nakedness contrasting with her own fully clothed state. "What are you going to do?" she asks, immediately regretting how breathless she sounds.

Semi's smile is both gentle and predatory. "Whatever you want me to do."

Before Belinda can formulate a response, Semi leans in, her lips hovering just inches from Belinda's. There's a moment—a heartbeat, a breath—where Belinda could pull away. Instead, she finds herself closing the distance, pressing her mouth to Semi's in a kiss that starts tentative but quickly blazes into something more.

Semi's lips are softer than any Belinda has kissed before, her technique more deliberate than Cory's familiar patterns. The novelty sends shivers down Belinda's spine, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms despite the warmth of the room. When Semi's tongue traces the seam of her lips, Belinda opens to her without hesitation, a slight sound of surprise escaping her throat.

I shouldn't be doing this, Belinda thinks, even as her hands find Semi's waist, fingers splaying against warm skin. This is wrong. I'm married. I'm straight. Aren't I?

Semi breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with desire as she studies Belinda's flushed face. "Your blouse," she says, fingers already moving to the top button. "May I?"

Belinda nods, unable to form words. She should stop this now, before it goes further. But her body betrays her, arching slightly as Semi's knuckles brush against her collarbone while unfastening each button with practiced ease.

The blouse falls open, revealing Belinda's black lace bra, the one she wore for Cory's benefit, never imagining another woman would see it. Semi's eyes linger on the swell of her breasts, appreciation evident in her gaze.

"Beautiful," Semi murmurs, fingers tracing the edge of the lace, leaving fire in their wake. "You're trembling. Are you afraid?"

"No," Belinda says automatically, then corrects herself. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know what I'm feeling."

That much is true. Her emotions are a tangle she can't unravel—desire and guilt, excitement and shame, all twisted together in a knot that tightens with each passing second.

Semi reaches behind Belinda, unfastening her bra with a quick flick of fingers. The garment loosens, and Semi slowly pushes it off her shoulders, exposing Belinda's breasts to the cool air of the room. Her nipples harden immediately, sensitive and aching for a touch that Belinda is ashamed to want.

"You're gorgeous," Semi says, her voice husky with desire. She cups Belinda's breasts, thumbs circling the peaked nipples in a way that makes Belinda gasp. "Does your husband appreciate how perfect these are?"

Belinda can't answer. Her mouth opens, but no sound emerges. She's too lost in the sensation of Semi's hands on her body, of being exposed and admired by another woman. When Semi bends her head to take one nipple into her mouth, Belinda's knees nearly buckle.

Semi's tongue circles the sensitive bud, her teeth grazing lightly before she sucks with gentle pressure. The sensation shoots straight to Belinda's core, dampening her panties further. One of Semi's hands slides down Belinda's stomach, coming to rest at the waistband of her jeans.

"May I?" Semi asks again, looking up without removing her mouth from Belinda's breast.

Yes, Belinda thinks, even as a voice in the back of her mind screams no. Her hands move of their own accord, one pushing Semi away, the other pulling her closer. The contradiction mirrors the war raging inside her.

"I shouldn't," she whispers, but makes no move to stop Semi's hand as it applies gentle pressure against the front of her jeans, right over her aching center.

"But you want to," Semi says, not a question but a statement of fact. She presses harder, creating friction against Belinda's swollen clit through the layers of denim and cotton. "Your body is being very honest with me."

It's true. Despite her mental protestations, Belinda's hips rock forward, seeking more contact. Her breathing becomes ragged, her hands finally settling on Semi's shoulders, neither pushing away nor pulling closer but simply holding on as if for support.

Semi continues her ministrations, mouth moving from one breast to the other while her hand works between Belinda's legs. The pressure and rhythm are perfect, as if Semi knows exactly what Belinda needs. Perhaps she does—her experience with women is evident in every deliberate touch.

Belinda's eyes flick to Cory, who watches from his chair. His initial embarrassment has faded, replaced by renewed arousal. His hand rests on his thigh, inches from his crotch, where she can see he's hardening again already. There's no jealousy in his expression, only fascination and desire. His silent approval should comfort her, but it only adds to her confusion.

The music changes, a new song with a slower, more sensual beat. Semi uses the transition to adjust her position, pressing Belinda against the mirrored wall. The cool surface shocks Belinda's heated skin, a counterpoint to the warmth of Semi's body against her front.

"You're so responsive," Semi murmurs against her skin, trailing kisses down Belinda's neck. "I could make you come just like this, through your jeans. Would you like that?"

The question pierces through the haze of desire, bringing Belinda crashing back to reality. What is she doing? Standing half-naked in a strip club, letting a stranger touch her while her husband watches? This isn't her. This isn't what she planned.

"Stop," she gasps, pushing Semi away with both hands. "I can't—I can't do this."

Semi steps back immediately, respecting Belinda's boundary despite the desire still evident in her eyes. Belinda scrambles to cover herself, fingers fumbling with her bra straps, then the buttons of her blouse. She feels exposed, vulnerable, caught between the woman before her and the husband behind her.

"I'm sorry," she says, though she's not sure who she's apologizing to. "This is too much. I don't know what I was thinking."

Her voice trembles, betraying the conflict still raging inside her. Because despite her words, despite her attempt to cover herself, her body still thrums with arousal. Her nipples still ache for Semi's touch, her core still pulses with unfulfilled desire.

Semi remains where she is, making no move to approach but not retreating further either. Her expression is knowing, almost sympathetic, as if she's seen this reaction before.

"Are you sure about that?" Semi asks, her voice a husky whisper. "Your body seems to want something else."

She begins a slow, deliberate crawl toward Belinda, not rushing but inexorable in her approach. Each movement is calculated to entice, to seduce, to break down the barriers Belinda has hastily erected.

"I—" Belinda starts, but her protest dies on her lips as Semi draws closer. Her back is pressed against the mirrored wall, nowhere to retreat further. Her partially buttoned blouse gapes open, revealing glimpses of her bra and the flushed skin beneath.

Cory shifts in his chair, the movement catching Belinda's attention. He's watching intently, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. When their eyes meet, he gives a subtle nod—permission, encouragement, maybe both. His hand moves to adjust himself, making no attempt to hide his renewed arousal.

Semi pauses just inches from Belinda, close enough that Belinda can feel her breath, smell her perfume mingled with the scent of arousal. "Tell me to stop," Semi challenges softly, "and I will. But be honest with yourself about what you want."

Belinda opens her mouth, the words of refusal ready on her tongue. But they don't come. Her breath catches, her heart races, and the dampness between her thighs reminds her of the truth her body has already acknowledged, even as her mind struggles to accept it.

Semi waits, patient yet predatory, the question hanging in the air between them: Will Belinda give in to temptation, or will she walk away?

"Go ahead, babe," Cory says, his voice husky with renewed arousal. "I want to watch you." His words break the tense silence, giving voice to the permission his nod had already granted. Belinda's eyes dart to him, finding no jealousy in his expression, only encouragement and desire. He's stroking himself through his pants now, making no attempt to hide his excitement at the tableau before him. The sight of her husband's arousal at seeing her with another woman sends a fresh wave of heat through Belinda's body, weakening her already crumbling resolve.

"Are you sure?" Belinda asks, though she's not certain which answer she's hoping for.

Cory nods, his eyes dark with lust. "I've never been more sure of anything." He unzips his pants, freeing himself, making his approval unmistakable. "Let yourself feel good. Let me see you with her."

Belinda turns back to Semi, who hasn't moved closer but hasn't retreated either. She waits, patient and predatory, giving Belinda the space to make her decision. The room feels impossibly hot now, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of arousal.

"I've never..." Belinda begins, then stops, unsure how to articulate the tangle of desires and fears knotted in her chest.

"I know," Semi says, her voice gentle despite the hunger in her eyes. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

But that's the problem, isn't it? Belinda does want this. Wants it with an intensity that frightens her, that challenges everything she thought she knew about herself. She's never looked at women this way before—or perhaps she has, and simply never allowed herself to recognize it.

"I want to," she finally whispers, the admission both terrifying and liberating. "I just don't know how."

Semi's smile is warm, genuine. "Then let me show you."

She closes the distance between them, but instead of resuming where they left off, Semi starts again with gentle touches. Her fingers trace the curve of Belinda's cheek, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and trail down the side of her neck. Each touch is deliberate, giving Belinda time to adjust, to become accustomed to the sensation of a woman's hands on her body.

"Breathe," Semi murmurs, noticing how Belinda holds her breath. "Just feel."

Belinda exhales shakily, consciously relaxing the muscles she hadn't realized were tensed. Semi's fingers continue their exploration, slipping beneath the partially buttoned blouse to caress the swell of Belinda's breasts above her bra. The touch is light, teasing, building anticipation rather than rushing toward satisfaction.

"You're beautiful," Semi says, eyes locked on Belinda's as she eases the blouse off her shoulders entirely. "I want you to see what I see."

She turns Belinda slightly, positioning her so she can see their reflection in one of the mirrored walls. The image is startling—Belinda with flushed cheeks and tousled hair, her bra askew from their earlier encounter, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desire. Behind her, Semi stands close, one hand cupping Belinda's breast through her bra, the other resting possessively on her hip. And in the background, Cory watches from his chair, stroking himself slowly as he takes in the scene.

"Look at how beautiful you are when you let yourself feel," Semi whispers, her lips brushing Belinda's ear. "Look at how much your husband enjoys seeing you like this."

Belinda can't tear her eyes from the reflection. It's like watching someone else, someone bolder and more adventurous than she's ever allowed herself to be. When Semi reaches around to unfasten her bra again, Belinda makes no move to stop her. The garment falls away, and Belinda watches as Semi cups her bare breasts, thumbs circling nipples that harden instantly at her touch.

"Oh," Belinda gasps, the sensation more intense now that she's surrendered to it. Her head falls back against Semi's shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as she gives herself over to the feeling.

Semi's hands are everywhere—kneading her breasts, trailing down her stomach, tracing the waistband of her jeans. When her fingers pop the button and ease down the zipper, Belinda's breath catches, but she doesn't protest. Instead, her hips shift forward, seeking more contact.

"Is this okay?" Semi asks, hand hovering at the edge of Belinda's panties.

"Yes," Belinda breathes, the word catching in her throat. "Please."

Semi's fingers slip beneath the elastic, delving into the wet heat between Belinda's thighs. Belinda gasps at the direct contact, her body jerking with surprise and pleasure. Semi's touch is different from anything she's experienced before—more knowing, somehow, as if Semi understands exactly what another woman needs.

"You're so wet," Semi murmurs, her fingers gliding easily through Belinda's folds. "So ready for me."

Belinda can only whimper in response, her hips rocking against Semi's hand, seeking more pressure, more friction. Semi's fingers circle her clit with precise movements, building a rhythm that has Belinda clutching at Semi's arm, nails digging into skin.

"That's it," Semi encourages, her free hand continuing to play with Belinda's breast. "Let go. Let me make you feel good."

Belinda's eyes find Cory in the mirror. He's fully erect now, stroking himself with long, deliberate motions as he watches them. The sight should embarrass her, but instead, it only heightens her arousal. There's something powerfully erotic about being watched, about knowing her pleasure is giving pleasure to others.

"Cory," she gasps, unsure what she's asking for—permission, reassurance, something else entirely.

"It's okay, babe," he says, his voice strained with his own arousal. "You look so fucking hot right now. Don't stop."

Semi takes advantage of Belinda's distraction to turn her around, pressing her back against the mirrored wall. They're face to face now, breath mingling, Semi's fingers still working between Belinda's thighs.

"I want to kiss you again," Semi says, her gaze dropping to Belinda's lips. "May I?"

In answer, Belinda surges forward, claiming Semi's mouth with a hunger that surprises them both. This kiss is different from their first—more desperate, more demanding. Belinda's hands tangle in Semi's hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss with an instinct she didn't know she possessed.

Semi responds with equal fervor, her fingers increasing their pace between Belinda's legs. The combination of the kiss and the skilled touch has Belinda moaning into Semi's mouth, her body trembling with approaching release. She's close, so close, teetering on the edge of something that feels monumental.

The room spins around her, reality narrowing to the sensations Semi is creating with her fingers and her mouth. Belinda breaks the kiss, gasping for air, her head falling back against the mirror with a soft thud. Semi's lips immediately find her neck, sucking gently at the pulse point.

"I'm going to—" Belinda starts, unable to finish the sentence as the pressure builds inside her, threatening to explode.

"Yes," Semi whispers against her skin. "Come for me, beautiful. Let me feel you."

Her fingers move faster, more insistently, driving Belinda toward the precipice. Belinda's hands grip Semi's shoulders, nails digging into skin as her body tenses, poised on the edge of release. The world narrows to this moment, this sensation, this impending explosion.

"Oh God," she moans, her voice barely recognizable to her own ears. "Oh God, I'm—"

Semi suddenly shifts her weight, using her body to pin Belinda firmly against the mirrored wall. The cool glass against Belinda's heated skin makes her gasp, the contrast heightening every sensation. Semi breaks their kiss, her lips moving to Belinda's neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin there. Belinda's head falls back, giving Semi better access, her hands clutching at Semi's shoulders for support as her knees threaten to buckle. Semi's fingers never stop their rhythm between her legs, maintaining the delicious pressure that keeps Belinda hovering on the edge of release.

"Not yet," Semi whispers against her skin, slowing her fingers just enough to draw Belinda back from the precipice. "I want to taste you first."

The words send a shock of electricity through Belinda's body. Taste her? She's never had a man go down on her, let alone a woman. The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, making her pussy clench around Semi's fingers.

"I..." Belinda starts, but the rest of her protest—if it even was a protest—dies in her throat as Semi withdraws her hand from Belinda's jeans and brings her glistening fingers to her own mouth. She sucks them clean, maintaining eye contact with Belinda the entire time.

"Just a preview," Semi says with a wicked smile. "You taste divine."

Before Belinda can process what's happening, Semi is moving downward, trailing kisses along her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, lingering at each nipple long enough to make Belinda whimper with renewed desire. Semi continues her descent, lips pressing against Belinda's stomach, tongue dipping into her navel.

It's only when Semi drops to her knees and begins unfastening Belinda's jeans that reality crashes back in. This is really happening. She's about to let another woman—a stranger—go down on her while her husband watches. The thought should horrify her, should make her push Semi away and run from the room. Instead, she finds herself lifting her hips to help as Semi tugs her jeans down over her thighs.

"Wait," Belinda gasps, not because she wants to stop, but because she needs a moment to process the enormity of what's happening. "I've never done this before."

Semi pauses, looking up at Belinda with understanding in her eyes. "I know, beautiful. We can stop anytime you want."

But stopping is the last thing Belinda wants. Her body aches with a need she's never experienced before, a hunger that's been awakened and demands to be fed. She glances at Cory, seeking reassurance or permission or something she can't quite name.

He's watching intently, his hand still moving over his erection, his eyes dark with lust. When he catches her gaze, he nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "It's okay, babe," he says softly. "Let her make you feel good."

His approval sends a fresh wave of heat through Belinda's body. This is surreal—her husband encouraging her to let another woman pleasure her—yet it feels right in a way she never could have anticipated. It's as if they're discovering a new dimension to their relationship, one where they can share experiences like this without feeling jealous or ashamed.

Semi waits patiently, her hands resting on Belinda's thighs, thumbs tracing small circles on the sensitive skin. "Tell me what you want," she says, her voice husky with desire. "Say it out loud."

Belinda swallows hard, the words sticking in her throat. She's never been good at vocalizing her desires, always finding it easier to show than tell. But Semi isn't moving, is waiting for explicit permission before continuing.

"I want..." Belinda begins, then falters, cheeks burning with embarrassment despite everything they've already done. "I want you to..."

"Say it," Semi encourages, her fingers inching higher on Belinda's thighs, teasing but not yet touching where Belinda needs her most. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

Belinda takes a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Semi's gaze. "I want you to taste me," she finally manages, the words barely above a whisper. "Please."

Semi's smile is triumphant, predatory. "With pleasure."

She resumes removing Belinda's jeans, tugging them down her legs and helping her step out of them. Belinda stands there in just her panties, more exposed than she's ever been outside her marriage. The mirrors reflect her from all angles—flushed skin, tousled hair, eyes wide with anticipation and lingering uncertainty.

Semi's hands return to Belinda's thighs, sliding upward until her thumbs brush against the damp fabric covering Belinda's center. The touch, even through her panties, makes Belinda's breath hitch. Semi hooks her fingers into the waistband, looking up one last time for permission before slowly drawing the panties down, revealing Belinda completely.

The cool air of the room against her exposed pussy makes Belinda shiver, or perhaps it's the way Semi is looking at her—like she's the most delicious thing Semi has ever seen. Belinda resists the urge to cover herself, to shield her most intimate parts from Semi's hungry gaze.

"You're beautiful," Semi murmurs, her breath warm against Belinda's inner thigh. "Every part of you."

She leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Belinda's hip bone, then lower, to the sensitive juncture where thigh meets pubic mound. Belinda's hands find Semi's hair, not pushing or pulling, just needing something to hold onto as her world narrows to the sensation of Semi's mouth moving ever closer to her center.

"Remember," Semi says, pausing with her lips just inches from where Belinda aches for her, "we can stop anytime. But I promise, once I make you cum, you'll never want to stop."

The confidence in her voice sends another jolt of arousal through Belinda's body. She's never been with someone so sure of their abilities, so openly determined to give her pleasure. It's intoxicating.

"Please," Belinda whispers, the word falling from her lips like a prayer. "Please don't stop."

Semi smiles up at her, a predator about to feast. "As you wish."

She inches closer, her breath hot against Belinda's pussy lips, deliberately drawing out the moment. Belinda's fingers tighten in Semi's hair, not quite pushing but definitely encouraging. Her thighs tremble with anticipation, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

In the mirror, she catches sight of Cory, who has moved his chair closer to get a better view. He's fully erect, stroking himself with one hand while the other grips the armrest. His eyes are fixed on where Semi kneels before his wife, his expression a mixture of lust and awe.

The sight should make Belinda self-conscious, but instead, it only heightens her arousal. There's something powerfully erotic about being watched like this, about knowing her pleasure is giving pleasure to others. She meets Cory's gaze in the mirror and finds herself smiling, a silent acknowledgment of the boundaries they're crossing together.

Semi's tongue makes a tentative swipe along Belinda's slit, barely there and gone again before Belinda can fully register the sensation. It's a tease, a promise of what's to come, and it makes Belinda whimper with need.

"More," she gasps, surprising herself with her boldness. "Please, more."

Semi's tongue makes a slow, deliberate pass along the length of Belinda's slit, and the sensation nearly buckles her knees. It's nothing like she imagined—softer, warmer, more precise than anything she's experienced before. Semi's hands grip Belinda's hips firmly, holding her in place against the mirrored wall as her tongue explores with increasing confidence. Belinda's fingers tangle in Semi's hair, not directing, just anchoring herself to something solid as pleasure begins to build in waves through her body.

"Oh my God," Belinda gasps, the words escaping without conscious thought. Her head falls back against the mirror with a soft thud, eyes fluttering closed as she surrenders to the sensation.

Semi hums in response, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure already coursing through Belinda. Her tongue circles Belinda's clit without directly touching it, teasing around the sensitive bundle of nerves until Belinda's hips begin to rock forward, seeking more direct contact.

"Please," Belinda whimpers, not even sure what she's asking for, just knowing she needs more of whatever Semi is doing to her.

Semi seems to understand. Her tongue flattens against Belinda's clit, applying firm pressure that makes Belinda cry out, the sound echoing in the small room. The pleasure is sharp, almost too intense, making Belinda's thighs tremble against Semi's shoulders.

"That's it," Semi murmurs against her flesh. "Let me hear you."

She resumes her ministrations, alternating between broad strokes along Belinda's entire slit and focused attention on her clit. The rhythm is unpredictable, keeping Belinda on edge, unable to anticipate where the next surge of pleasure will come from.

Belinda forces her eyes open, wanting to see what's happening to her. The sight is erotic beyond anything she could have imagined—Semi on her knees, face buried between Belinda's thighs, hands gripping her hips possessively. In the mirror behind Semi, Belinda catches sight of Cory, who has moved his chair even closer. He's fully erect, stroking himself with long, deliberate motions as he watches his wife receive pleasure from another woman.

Their eyes meet in the reflection, and Cory gives her a smile that's equal parts encouragement and arousal. There's no jealousy in his expression, only appreciation for the tableau before him. The knowledge that he's enjoying this, that he finds it as arousing as she does, releases something in Belinda. The last vestiges of shame or hesitation fall away, leaving only pure sensation.

Belinda can only whimper, words beyond her capacity at the moment. Semi chooses that instant to slide her tongue lower, probing at Belinda's entrance before pushing inside. The sensation draws a strangled moan from Belinda's throat, her hips bucking against Semi's face.

"Fuck," she gasps, surprising herself with the profanity that rarely crosses her lips. "Oh fuck, that feels so good."

Semi's tongue pushes deeper, curling inside her in a way that makes Belinda see stars. Then it withdraws, returning to her clit with renewed focus. The alternation between penetration and clitoral stimulation creates a building pressure at the base of Belinda's spine, a gathering storm of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm her completely.

"I think she's close," Cory observes, his own breathing labored as he continues to stroke himself. "Are you going to come for her, babe? Are you going to come with her tongue inside you?"

The dirty talk, so unlike Cory's usual style, sends another jolt of arousal through Belinda's body. She's never been this turned on in her life, never felt pleasure this intense or all-consuming.

Semi seems to sense her approaching climax, her movements becoming more focused, more insistent. Her tongue flicks rapidly over Belinda's clit while one hand slides up to pinch a nipple, adding a sharp counterpoint to the building pleasure between her legs.

"Yes," Belinda moans, no longer caring how loud she's being, no longer concerned with anything but the approaching release. "Yes, right there. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Semi has no intention of stopping. Her free hand moves from Belinda's hip to her thigh, pushing it wider to give herself better access. Then her fingers join her tongue, two sliding easily into Belinda's dripping pussy while her tongue continues its relentless assault on her clit.

The dual sensation—being filled and stimulated simultaneously—pushes Belinda to the edge. Her entire body tenses, toes curling against the carpet, fingers tightening in Semi's hair. The pressure builds to an almost unbearable level, pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

"I'm going to—" Belinda tries to warn, but she can't finish the sentence before the dam breaks.

Her orgasm crashes over her with a force that tears a scream from her throat. Wave after wave of pleasure pulses through her body, radiating outward from her core in electric jolts that make her limbs jerk and spasm. It's nothing like the orgasms she's experienced before—this is full-body, all-consuming, almost frightening in its intensity.

Semi doesn't let up, her fingers and tongue working in tandem to prolong the pleasure, to wring every last aftershock from Belinda's trembling body. Belinda's hips rock mindlessly against Semi's face, chasing the sensation even as it becomes almost too much to bear.

"Fuck! I--can't--help--it!" Belinda cries, the words torn from some primal place inside her. Her body convulses with another wave of pleasure, unexpected and overwhelming. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!"

Through the haze of her release, she's vaguely aware of Cory groaning, reaching his own climax as he watches his wife come undone. The knowledge that her pleasure has pushed him over the edge only intensifies her own, creating a feedback loop of arousal and release.

Finally, when the most intense waves have subsided, Semi gently touches her touch, her tongue making soothing passes along Belinda's oversensitive flesh. But Belinda's legs have had enough. They buckle beneath her, no longer able to support her weight after such an intense experience.

Semi catches her, easing her down to the floor with surprising strength. Belinda collapses in a boneless heap, her back against the mirrored wall, legs splayed inelegantly before her. Her chest heaves with labored breaths, her skin slick with sweat, her hair a wild tangle around her flushed face.

"Holy shit," she manages, the words barely audible through her panting. "That was... I've never..."

Semi smiles, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand in a gesture that should be crude but somehow isn't. "I know," she says, a hint of pride in her voice. "First time with a woman is always special."

Belinda laughs, a breathless, disbelieving sound. "Is it always like that?"

"No," Semi says, settling beside her on the floor. "Sometimes it's even better."

The promise in her voice sends a renewed flutter through Belinda's exhausted body. Better than that? It seems impossible, yet she finds herself believing it, wanting to experience it.

Cory has slumped in his chair, spent from his own release, but his eyes remain fixed on the two women on the floor. There's a lazy satisfaction in his expression, coupled with renewed interest as he watches Semi's hand come to rest on Belinda's bare thigh.

"You good, babe?" he asks, his voice rough with lingering arousal.

Belinda nods, still too overwhelmed for proper speech. Good doesn't begin to cover it. She feels transformed, awakened to possibilities she never knew existed. And based on the look in Semi's eyes as she leans closer, their journey is far from over.

Belinda's body still quivers with aftershocks, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. She feels boneless, spent, utterly satisfied in a way she's never experienced before. But Semi has other plans. Without giving Belinda time to recover, Semi repositions herself between Belinda's thighs, spreading them wider on the carpeted floor of the private room.

"Wait," Belinda gasps, her voice weak and breathless. "I need a minute."

Semi looks up at her with a predatory smile, her lips still glistening with Belinda's arousal. "No, you don't," she says confidently. "You need another orgasm."

Before Belinda can protest further, Semi lowers her head once more, her tongue making a broad sweep along Belinda's still-sensitive flesh. The sensation is almost too much—pleasure bordering on pain due to her heightened sensitivity. Belinda's hands fly to Semi's hair, not sure whether to push her away or pull her closer.

"Oh God," she moans, her head falling back against the mirrored wall with a soft thud. "I can't—it's too—"

But her body betrays her words. Despite her protests, her hips lift slightly to meet Semi's mouth, seeking the pleasure she claims is too intense. Semi seems to sense the contradiction, her hands firm on Belinda's thighs as she holds them open, preventing any escape from the exquisite torture of her tongue.

"You can," Semi murmurs against her pussy, the vibration of her words adding another layer to the sensation. "And you will."

She delves deeper, her tongue more insistent now, less teasing than before. Where her first approach was exploratory, this is purposeful—she knows precisely what makes Belinda respond and exploits that knowledge mercilessly. Her tongue focuses primarily on Belinda's clit, circling and flicking with precise movements that make Belinda's entire body jerk with each pass.

"She's amazing, isn't she?" Cory asks, his voice husky with arousal.

Belinda can only manage a nod, words escaping her entirely in this heated moment. Semi's expert mouth works relentlessly between her legs, sending waves of ecstasy that build with an intensity she never thought possible, especially after the mind-shattering climax she just experienced.

"Yes," she finally manages, the word more breath than sound. "God, yes."

Semi's tongue is relentless, her rhythm perfect—fast enough to build Belinda's pleasure rapidly but not so fast that it becomes overwhelming. One of her hands slides up Belinda's inner thigh, fingers teasing at her entrance before two slip inside, curling upward to find the spot that makes Belinda see stars.

"Fuck!" Belinda cries out, the profanity falling from her lips without thought or censorship. Her back arches off the wall, pushing her breasts more firmly into Cory's hands, her pussy more firmly against Semi's mouth. "Right there, oh God, right there!"

Semi doesn't need the direction. She knows exactly where "there" is, and focuses her attention with laser precision. Her fingers pump in and out, curling on each withdrawal to stroke Belinda's G-spot while her tongue maintains steady pressure on her clit.

The combination is devastating. Belinda feels her second orgasm approaching with frightening speed, her body tensing in anticipation. It's different from the first—where that built slowly, inexorably, this one rushes toward her like a freight train, unstoppable and overwhelming.

"I'm going to come again," she warns, though it's hardly necessary. Her entire body telegraphs her approaching climax—the flush spreading across her chest, the tension in her thighs, the way her hands clench in Semi's hair.

"Come for us," Cory encourages, his lips close to her ear as he continues to play with her breasts. "Let go, babe. Let us see you come apart."

His words, combined with Semi's relentless ministrations, push Belinda over the edge. Her second orgasm crashes over her with even more force than the first, tearing a scream from her throat that echoes in the small room. Her body convulses, back arching, thighs clamping around Semi's head as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through her.

Semi doesn't let up, her fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony to prolong the pleasure, to wring every last aftershock from Belinda's trembling body. The intensity is almost unbearable, making Belinda writhe against the floor, her hands alternating between pushing Semi away and pulling her closer.

"Too much," she gasps, even as her hips continue to rock against Semi's face, contradicting her words. "It's too much, I can't—"

But she can, and she does. Her orgasm seems to go on forever, plateauing rather than peaking and falling. Just when she thinks it's subsiding, Semi will change the angle of her fingers or the pressure of her tongue, sending Belinda careening into another wave of pleasure.

Cory watches with fascination, his own arousal evident in his labored breathing and the renewed erection pressing against his pants. His hands never leave Belinda's body, roaming from her breasts to her neck, her face, her hair—touching her everywhere as if to ground her through the overwhelming sensations.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "God, you're beautiful like this."

Finally, mercifully, Semi eases the intensity of her touch, her tongue making gentler passes along Belinda's oversensitized flesh, her fingers slowing their rhythm inside her. Belinda collapses completely, boneless and utterly spent, her body still twitching with aftershocks.

"No more," she pleads, her voice barely audible through her ragged breathing. "I can't take any more."

Semi places a final, gentle kiss on Belinda's inner thigh before withdrawing her fingers and sitting back on her heels. Her expression is triumphant, satisfied, as she watches Belinda struggle to recover from the intensity of her second orgasm.

"You're full of surprises," Semi says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Most women need more recovery time between orgasms like that."

Belinda laughs weakly, unable to muster the energy for a proper response. She feels utterly transformed—physically, yes, but emotionally as well. Something has shifted inside her, some fundamental understanding of herself and her desires. She's never been this uninhibited, this open to pleasure, this willing to surrender control.

"That was..." she starts, then stops, unable to find words adequate to describe the experience.

"Just the beginning," Semi finishes for her, her smile promising more delights to come.

Semi gives her only moments to recover before shifting position. She moves up Belinda's body with fluid grace, her movements deliberate and purposeful. Belinda watches through half-lidded eyes, still dazed from her recent orgasms, as Semi straddles her thigh.

"I want to feel you against me," Semi explains, her voice husky with her own unmet desire. She positions herself between Belinda's legs, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, their wet centers nearly touching. The heat between them is palpable, the air thick with the scent of arousal and satisfaction.

"I don't know if I can—" Belinda starts, uncertain her oversensitized body can handle more stimulation.

Semi silences her with a gentle finger pressed to her lips. "Just feel," she instructs, her eyes dark with hunger. "Let me do the work."

She shifts her weight, bringing their pussies into direct contact. The sensation draws a gasp from Belinda's lips—the soft, wet heat of another woman pressed against her most intimate parts is unlike anything she's experienced before. Unlike fingers or the tongue, this is somehow more intimate, more equal.

"Oh," Belinda breathes, surprise and pleasure mingling in the single syllable. Her hands come up instinctively to rest on Semi's hips, feeling the strength in them as Semi begins to move.

The first roll of Semi's hips is gentle, tentative, as if testing Belinda's response. When Belinda doesn't pull away, Semi grows bolder, establishing a rhythm that creates delicious friction between them. Their slick flesh slides together, the movement eased by their combined arousal.

"That's it," Semi encourages, her voice strained with her own building pleasure. "Move with me."

Belinda's body responds instinctively, her hips rising to meet Semi's, matching her rhythm. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through her oversensitive flesh, building toward something she didn't think was possible after two such intense orgasms.

"I can feel how wet you are," Semi murmurs, her pace increasing slightly. "So wet for me."

The words send a fresh wave of heat through Belinda's body. She is wet—embarrassingly so—her arousal mingling with Semi's as they move against each other. The sound of their bodies meeting is obscene, wet and slick, adding another layer to the sensory experience.

Cory has moved his chair closer, watching with undisguised fascination as the two women grind against each other. His hand works steadily over his erection, his breathing labored, his eyes dark with lust. Belinda catches his gaze and holds it, a new boldness awakening inside her. She wants him to see this, wants him to witness her pleasure, her surrender to desires she never knew she harbored.

"You're watching him while we fuck," Semi observes, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Does that turn you on? Knowing he's getting off on watching us?"

"Yes," Belinda admits, the word falling from her lips without hesitation. "Everything about this turns me on."

Semi rewards her honesty by increasing her pace, grinding harder against Belinda's pussy. The pressure against her clit is perfect, building the tension inside her once more. Belinda's hands tighten on Semi's hips, urging her on, guiding her movements to maximize their mutual pleasure.

"Like this?" Semi asks, though she already knows the answer. She can feel Belinda's response in the way her body arches, in the soft sounds escaping her throat.

"Just like that," Belinda confirms, her voice thick with renewed desire. "Don't stop."

Their bodies move together with increasing urgency, finding a rhythm that builds pleasure for both of them. Semi's breasts bounce with each movement, drawing Belinda's gaze. Without thinking, she reaches up to cup them, thumbs circling the hardened nipples in a way that makes Semi gasp with pleasure.

"Yes," Semi hisses, her head falling back, exposing the long line of her throat. "Touch me."

The tension builds between them, a shared crescendo approaching with each roll of their hips. Belinda can feel her third orgasm building, impossibly, despite the intensity of her previous releases. This one feels different—less sharp, more encompassing, a full-body wave rather than a concentrated explosion.

"I'm getting close," Semi warns, her movements becoming less controlled, more desperate. "Are you with me?"

"Yes," Belinda gasps, her own hips moving with equal urgency. "Yes, I'm close too."

Their gazes lock, creating another level of intimacy beyond the physical. In Semi's eyes, Belinda sees her own desire reflected back at her, her own hunger, her own need for release. It's intoxicating, this shared journey toward pleasure, this mutual climb toward ecstasy.

"Together," Semi urges, her hands finding Belinda's, fingers intertwining as their bodies continue to move against each other. "Come with me."

The words push Belinda closer to the edge, the tension inside her coiling tighter with each passing second. She's vaguely aware of Cory's labored breathing, of his hand moving faster over his erection, but her focus remains on Semi—on the way their bodies move together, on the building pressure at her core.

"I'm going to—" Belinda starts, unable to complete the sentence as the first wave of her orgasm crashes over her.

"Yes," Semi hisses, her own body tensing. "Me too. Now!"

They climax simultaneously, their bodies shuddering against each other, their cries mingling in the close air of the private room. It's less intense than Belinda's previous orgasms but somehow more profound, more connected. The knowledge that they're sharing this moment, that their pleasure is feeding each other's, adds a dimension she's never experienced before.

Through the haze of her release, Belinda is dimly aware of Cory's groan as he reaches his own climax, his eyes fixed on the two women before him. The knowledge that their pleasure has pushed him over the edge only heightens her own, creating a perfect triangle of desire and satisfaction.

Semi collapses on top of Belinda, their bodies still trembling with aftershocks, their breath coming in ragged gasps. They lie like that for long moments, hearts pounding against each other, skin slick with sweat, the scent of sex heavy in the air around them.

"That was..." Belinda begins, then stops, unable to find words adequate to describe the experience.

"Incredible," Semi finishes for her, pressing a gentle kiss to Belinda's shoulder. "You're a natural."

Semi props herself up on one elbow, looking down at Belinda with a mixture of satisfaction and something softer, more genuine than her earlier predatory gaze. "The best kind of education," she says, brushing a strand of hair from Belinda's forehead. "Hands-on learning."

Belinda turns her head to look at him, suddenly conscious of what they've just done, of the boundaries they've crossed. But there's no regret in Cory's eyes, no jealousy or discomfort—only warm appreciation and perhaps a hint of wonder.

"Happy birthday," she says, a smile tugging at her lips despite her exhaustion.

Cory laughs, leaning in to kiss her gently. "Best present ever," he assures her. "Though I'm not sure how you'll top it next year."

As they lie there, bodies intertwined in the aftermath of shared pleasure, Belinda marvels at the journey that brought her here, from a nervous wife arranging a strip club visit for her husband's birthday to a woman confidently exploring her newfound desires. It's not where she expected this night to lead, but as Semi's fingers trace patterns on her skin and Cory's arm wraps protectively around her waist, she can't bring herself to regret a single moment.