"Bloody hell, that rain's coming down sideways," Farah muttered, wiping condensation from the kitchen window. Outside, Manchester was disappearing under a grey, hammering curtain. Streetlights flickered weakly through the downpour.

Rukhsana Hussain squeezed Farah's shoulder, her face tight with worry. "Imran was stuck on the motorway – flooded near junction ten. You can't cycle home in this, love. Stay over." Farah nodded, the offer a relief tinged with unease. Sleeping in someone else's house always felt... exposed. Especially with the storm rattling the old Victorian terrace like it wanted in. She settled onto the lumpy sofa bed in the lounge, the unfamiliar smells of polished wood and cumin lingering thick in the air.

Hours later, the storm still growled. A pressure deep in Farah's bladder forced her awake. She padded barefoot across the cold hallway towards the downstairs loo, the only sound the frantic drumming of rain on the skylight. As she passed the master bedroom door, slightly ajar, a low gasp sliced through the storm’s rumble. Then another – breathy, urgent. Her feet froze. Through the crack, lamplight spilled onto tangled sheets. Imran’s broad back glistened above Rukhsana, whose head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open in a silent cry, Farah felt vibrate in her own bones. Heat flooded Farah’s cheeks, her breath catching sharp in her throat. She shouldn't look. Couldn't move.

Farah stayed overnight at the Hussains' due to a severe storm trapping Imran away. Awakened later needing the loo, she overheard sounds from their bedroom and witnessed Imran and Rukhsana having sex through their slightly open door, freezing in place despite knowing she shouldn't watch.

Rukhsana’s eyes snapped open. Not towards Imran, but directly at the door. Straight at Farah. Time stopped. Farah’s heart hammered against her ribs like fists on a locked door. Panic screamed run, but her legs were leaden. Rukhsana didn’t flinch, didn’t scream. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, utterly unashamed. Imran followed her gaze, his rhythm faltering. He blinked, sweat dripping from his brow, confusion flickering across his face before settling into something darker, more intense. The raw intimacy Farah witnessed shifted instantly into a charged, electric tension crackling across the hallway.

"See something you like, Farah?" Rukhsana’s voice was low, husky, completely unlike her usual clipped tones. It wasn’t a challenge, nor anger. It was an invitation, thick and warm as honey. Imran’s hand slid possessively over Rukhsana’s hip, his gaze locking onto Farah’s wide, frozen stare. He didn’t speak, just watched her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The air tasted metallic, thick with rain and sweat and something else entirely – a sharp, unspoken promise hanging between them.

Farah’s bladder screamed, a frantic counterpoint to the roaring pulse in her ears. She tried to swallow, her mouth desert-dry. "I... bathroom," she stammered, the words barely audible over the storm. Her feet felt glued to the worn hallway runner. Rukhsana chuckled softly, a rich sound that vibrated in the charged silence. "Go on, then," she murmured, her eyes never leaving Farah’s face. "But don’t be long." Imran shifted, his movement deliberate, pulling Rukhsana closer against him without breaking eye contact with Farah. The silent command was clear: Hurry back.

Inside the cramped downstairs toilet, Farah leaned against the cool porcelain sink, trembling. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving. She splashed cold water on her face, but it did nothing to cool the furnace inside her. The sounds from the bedroom – a low groan, a sharp gasp – seemed amplified now, seeping under the door. Her own reflection stared back: wide, dark eyes, flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted. What are you doing? Panic warred with a terrifying, liquid pull deep in her belly. She thought of her parents asleep miles away, of the respectable student she was supposed to be. It felt like watching someone else’s life.

A soft knock startled her. "Farah?" Rukhsana’s voice was muffled but clear, impossibly calm. "Everything alright?" Not waiting for an answer, the door handle turned slowly. Farah didn’t lock it. She couldn’t move. Rukhsana stood framed in the doorway, wearing only Imran’s discarded shirt. It hung loosely, barely covering her thighs. Her gaze was steady, assessing. "You looked… fascinated." A small, knowing smile played on her lips. "Don’t be scared. We saw you watching. We liked it."

Imran appeared silently behind Rukhsana, filling the narrow hallway. He was bare-chested, sweat still gleaming on his skin. He looked directly at Farah, his expression unreadable except for the intensity burning in his dark eyes. "Come back," he stated, his voice rough. It wasn’t a question. Rukhsana reached out a hand, her fingers warm when they brushed Farah’s cold wrist. "Yes, come," she echoed softly. "See what happens next." Her touch sent a jolt through Farah, paralyzing and electric.

Farah followed them back to the bedroom, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The air felt thick, charged. Rukhsana guided her gently towards Imran, who stood waiting near the dishevelled bed. Without hesitation, Rukhsana sank gracefully to her knees before him. She glanced up at Farah, patting the space beside her on the carpet. "Here," she murmured, her voice a low hum. "Beside me." Farah obeyed, her movements stiff, her heart pounding against her ribs as she knelt next to Rukhsana.

Rukhsana’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Imran’s dark boxers. She pulled them down slowly, deliberately. Farah’s breath caught sharply in her throat as Imran was revealed. He was thick, heavy, already fully erect, and glistening faintly. "Bloody hell," Farah whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them. Her eyes widened, fixed on him. She’d only seen two boys before, both tentative fumbles in darkened cars. Nothing like this. Nothing so… commanding. Imran shifted slightly, his gaze intense on her face.

Rukhsana chuckled softly beside her, the sound rich and knowing. "Impressive, isn’t he?" Her hand reached out, not towards Imran, but to rest lightly on Farah’s trembling thigh. "Don’t just look," she murmured, her voice low and encouraging. "Touch him." Imran’s jaw tightened, a muscle flickering. He didn’t move, waiting. The air crackled with expectation, thick with the scent of sweat and rain and something primal.

Farah’s hand lifted slowly, as if pulled by an invisible wire. Her fingertips brushed the hot, velvety skin of Imran’s shaft. A jolt shot through her arm, electric and startling. She felt the hardness beneath the softness, the sheer heat radiating from him. Imran sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening, fixed intently on her face. "That’s it," Rukhsana breathed beside her, her own hand now gently guiding Farah’s fingers to wrap more firmly around him. Farah felt the heavy weight settle into her palm, the pulse thrumming against her skin. Her own breath came in shallow gasps.

Rukhsana leaned in close, her lips brushing Farah’s ear. "Now stroke him," she instructed, her voice husky and low. "Up and down. Slow at first. Feel him." Farah obeyed, her hand moving tentatively along his length. The slide was slicker than she expected, aided by the dampness already coating him. Imran groaned, deep and guttural, his hips pushing slightly into her touch. Farah watched, mesmerized, as her own hand moved, the motion unfamiliar yet instinctive. She felt the smooth ridge of his head beneath her thumb, the thick vein pulsing along the underside. Her own core clenched in response, a liquid ache spreading through her.

"Good girl," Rukhsana murmured approvingly. She shifted, pressing a soft kiss to Farah’s temple before turning her attention back to Imran. With practiced ease, she took him into her mouth, her lips closing over the tip Farah’s hand had just released. Farah gasped, her hand freezing momentarily on Imran’s shaft as she watched Rukhsana’s head bob. The sight was intensely intimate, the wet sounds impossibly loud in the storm-muffled room. Imran’s hand tangled in Rukhsana’s hair, guiding her rhythm, his gaze never leaving Farah’s stunned face.

"Keep stroking," Rukhsana instructed, pulling off briefly, her voice thick. She nudged Farah’s hand back into motion. "Don’t stop. Feel how hard he gets." Farah obeyed, her fingers tightening slightly. She matched her tentative strokes to Rukhsana’s movements, her palm sliding over the slick skin where Rukhsana’s mouth had just been. Imran groaned again, deeper this time, his hips pushing more insistently against their combined touch. Farah felt the powerful muscles in his thighs tense beneath her other hand, which had somehow settled there. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming.

Rukhsana shifted, pressing close against Farah’s side. Her fingers traced the damp neckline of Farah’s thin sleep top. "Too hot?" she murmured knowingly. Without waiting, she tugged the fabric down roughly, exposing Farah’s small breasts. Cool air hit her skin, followed instantly by Rukhsana’s warm, wet mouth closing over one nipple. Farah gasped, arching instinctively towards the sensation, her hand faltering on Imran. Rukhsana sucked hard, her tongue swirling, while her free hand pinched the other nipple sharply. Pleasure, sharp and unexpected, shot through Farah’s core.

"Focus," Imran growled, his hand covering Farah’s on his cock, forcing her grip tighter. He guided her strokes faster, rougher. His hips thrust forward, driving himself deeper into her fist and Rukhsana’s mouth. Farah obeyed, mesmerized by the rhythm—her hand moving, Rukhsana sucking, Imran thrusting. Sweat dripped down his temples. Rukhsana moaned around him, the vibration traveling up Farah’s arm still wrapped around his shaft.

Rukhsana pulled back abruptly, Imran’s cock slick and glistening. She turned to Farah, her lips swollen, eyes dark. Without breaking eye contact, she guided Imran’s cock towards Farah’s face. The thick, hot head brushed Farah’s bottom lip. "Ever sucked a cock before?" Rukhsana asked, her voice thick and low. Her thumb traced Farah’s lip, pressing gently. Farah shook her head, mute.

"Good," Rukhsana breathed. She slid her fingers into Farah’s hair, firm but not harsh. "Open wide." Farah obeyed instinctively, her jaw trembling. Rukhsana guided Imran forward until the swollen tip pressed against Farah’s tongue. The taste flooded her senses—salty, musky, overwhelmingly male. She gagged slightly, eyes watering. Imran groaned, his hips jerking. "Easy," Rukhsana murmured, holding Farah steady. "Just relax your throat."

Farah focused on breathing through her nose. She let her lips slide down the thick shaft, inch by inch. The stretch burned. Rukhsana’s hand guided her head down further, encouraging her. "Deeper," Imran gritted out, his fingers tightening on her shoulder. Farah pushed past the resistance, her nose pressing against his damp skin. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop. The vibration of Imran’s groan echoed through her skull.

Rukhsana’s fingers traced Farah’s spine beneath her sleep top. "Beautiful," she murmured. Her other hand circled Imran’s base, pumping slowly in rhythm with Farah’s tentative bobbing. Imran’s hips began a shallow thrust, pushing deeper into Farah’s throat. She gagged again, pulling back slightly. "Shh," Rukhsana soothed. "Keep going. Feel him." Farah obeyed, relaxing her throat muscles as best she could. The salty taste intensified. She felt the heavy pulse against her tongue.

Imran’s breathing grew ragged. "Enough," he rasped suddenly, pulling Farah off with gentle firmness. His cock glistened wetly in the lamplight. He guided her backwards onto the edge of the bed, his gaze burning. Rukhsana moved swiftly, peeling Farah’s damp pajama bottoms down her legs. Cool air hit Farah’s thighs. Rukhsana knelt between them, spreading Farah wide. "So wet already," she observed, her fingertips grazing Farah’s slick folds. Farah gasped, her hips lifting involuntarily.

Imran positioned himself behind Rukhsana. With one smooth thrust, he pushed into his wife. Rukhsana cried out, arching back against him. Her head dropped forward, her dark hair brushing Farah’s trembling thighs. Imran’s rhythm was deep and deliberate, each thrust driving Rukhsana forward. Rukhsana’s mouth found Farah’s clit, her tongue circling with firm, expert strokes. Farah cried out, her hands flying to Rukhsana’s hair. The dual sensation—Imran’s powerful movements rocking Rukhsana’s body against hers, Rukhsana’s relentless mouth—was overwhelming. Farah’s thighs tightened around Rukhsana’s head.

Rukhsana moaned around Farah’s clit, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure. Her fingers slid inside Farah, curling upward. Farah gasped, her hips bucking wildly. Imran gripped Rukhsana’s hips harder, his thrusts growing faster, rougher. Sweat dripped from his brow onto Rukhsana’s back. Farah felt the coiled tension in her belly tighten unbearably. Rukhsana’s fingers pressed deeper, her tongue flicking faster. Farah’s breath came in ragged gasps.

"Look at me," Imran commanded, his voice thick. Farah’s eyes snapped open, locking onto his intense gaze. Something shifted inside her—a surrender. Her thighs trembled violently against Rukhsana’s ears. Imran’s rhythm faltered, his own release building. "Come," he growled, his thrusts becoming erratic. Rukhsana sucked harder, her fingers twisting. Farah screamed, her body arching off the bed as the orgasm ripped through her. Wave after wave crashed, leaving her shaking.

Rukhsana pulled back, wiping her chin. She watched Imran’s strained face. "Now," she urged softly. Imran pulled out of her abruptly, kneeling beside Farah. He gripped his cock, already slick and pulsing. He aimed it at Farah’s stomach. Ropes of thick, hot cum splashed across her skin—her belly, her breasts, her chin. Farah gasped at the sudden heat, the smell sharp and earthy. Imran groaned deeply, emptying himself completely over her.

Rukhsana leaned close, tracing a finger through the mess on Farah’s belly. She brought it to her own lips, tasting it thoughtfully. "Good," she murmured. Then she dipped her head, licking a stripe up Farah’s abdomen, cleaning Imran’s release from her skin. Her tongue was rough, purposeful. Farah shuddered, still trembling from her own climax. Rukhsana moved lower, her mouth closing over Farah’s clit again with gentle suction. Farah whimpered, her hips jerking weakly. "Shh," Rukhsana whispered against her. "Just feel."

Imran watched them both, his breathing still heavy. He reached down, his large hand sliding beneath Rukhsana’s waist. With surprising gentleness, he lifted her away from Farah. "Up," he commanded softly. He guided Farah’s limp body towards the centre of the bed, shifting her onto the damp sheets. Rukhsana moved with them, settling beside Farah on the rumpled covers. She took Farah’s hand in hers, threading their fingers together. Her grip was warm, grounding. "Look at him," Rukhsana urged, nodding towards Imran, who stood tall beside the bed, already hardening again. His cock glistened, thick and demanding against his thigh. "He wants you properly now."

Farah stared, her chest tight. Rukhsana squeezed her hand. "Take him," she murmured, her voice low and encouraging. She guided Farah’s free hand towards Imran’s hip. "Hold him. Feel how ready he is for you." Farah’s fingers trembled as they brushed the hot skin above his groin. She hesitated, her gaze flicking between Imran’s intense stare and Rukhsana’s reassuring smile. Slowly, deliberately, Rukhsana placed Farah’s palm flat against Imran’s lower belly, pushing her hand downward until her fingers wrapped hesitantly around his base. The heat and solidity jolted through her arm. "Now guide him," Rukhsana instructed softly, pressing Farah’s hand firmly against him. "Tell him what you want, baby."

Imran knelt on the bed, his knees bracketing Farah’s hips. He leaned forward, bracing himself on one hand beside her head. His other hand slid beneath her knee, lifting her leg gently, opening her wider. His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "Ready?" His voice was a deep rumble, rough with need. Farah swallowed, her throat dry. She glanced at Rukhsana beside her, who gave a small, encouraging nod. Farah managed a shaky nod back at Imran. "Yes," she breathed, the word barely audible. He didn’t hesitate. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he pushed inside her. Farah gasped sharply, her back arching off the bed. The stretch was intense, burning, deeper than anything she’d felt before. Her fingers dug into his forearm. Imran held still for a moment, letting her adjust, his jaw clenched tight. "Breathe," he commanded gruffly.

He began to move, slow and deliberate at first. Each deep stroke dragged against her inner walls, sending sparks of sensation radiating through her core. Farah’s hips lifted instinctively, meeting his rhythm. The slick sounds filled the air, mingling with her shallow breaths and Imran’s low groans. Rukhsana shifted closer, her hand sliding over Farah’s belly, then lower. Her fingers found Farah’s clit, circling firmly in time with Imran’s thrusts. "That’s it," Rukhsana murmured, her lips brushing Farah’s ear. "Feel him. Feel how deep he fills you." Farah cried out as the dual stimulation overwhelmed her senses – the deep, stretching fullness inside and the sharp, focused pressure outside.

Imran’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. Sweat dripped from his brow onto Farah’s collarbone. His grip tightened on her thigh, holding her open wider. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice thick and strained. Farah forced her eyes open, locking onto his intense gaze. The raw hunger there sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in her belly. Rukhsana’s fingers worked faster now, relentless. "You’re so close," she whispered, her breath hot against Farah’s neck. "Let go for him." Farah’s back arched sharply off the bed, her fingers digging into Imran’s forearm. The coil inside her snapped violently. She screamed as her climax tore through her, shaking uncontrollably.

Imran watched her shatter beneath him, his rhythm stuttering only for a second. A low growl rumbled in his chest. He drove into her harder, faster, chasing his own release. His hips slammed against hers with bruising force. "Fuck," he gasped, his voice ragged. His thrusts became erratic, desperate. He buried himself deep inside her one final time, his whole body tensing. A harsh groan escaped him as he pulsed within her, his release hot and thick. He collapsed forward onto his elbows, breathing heavily against her shoulder.

Rukhsana gently eased her fingers away from Farah’s clit. She leaned in, kissing Farah’s trembling lips softly. "Well done," she murmured, her voice warm with approval. She traced the sweat on Farah’s brow. Imran pulled out slowly, a slick sound filling the quiet room. Farah whimpered at the sudden emptiness. Rukhsana shifted, moving between Farah’s legs. "Shh," she whispered. Her tongue swept through the mess coating Farah’s inner thighs, cleaning Imran’s release mixed with Farah’s own slickness. The sensation was startlingly intimate, rough, and purposeful.

Imran rolled onto his back beside them, breathing heavily. He pulled Rukhsana against his chest. "Come here," he said to Farah, his voice thick but softer now. Rukhsana guided her, tugging her gently until Farah lay nestled against Rukhsana’s front, her back pressed to Rukhsana’s warm skin. Rukhsana wrapped an arm around Farah’s waist, pulling her close. Farah trembled, her legs tangled with Rukhsana’s. Imran’s hand rested possessively on Farah’s hip, his thumb stroking slow circles on her damp skin. The storm still rumbled outside, distant now. The room smelled sharply of sex and sweat and rain.

Rukhsana nuzzled the back of Farah’s neck. "Did you enjoy yourself, baby?" she murmured, her lips brushing Farah’s skin. Her voice was warm, satisfied, utterly devoid of judgment. Farah froze for a heartbeat. The question hung in the humid air. She felt Imran’s thumb pause its movement, waiting. Her mind raced – the slick slide of Imran’s cock in her hand, the choking fullness of him in her mouth, the bruising thrusts that had filled her completely. The raw, overwhelming sensations flooded back. Her throat tightened.

"Yes," Farah whispered, the word cracking slightly. She cleared her throat. "Yes. It was... intense." A tremor ran through her as Rukhsana’s arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer against the soft curve of Rukhsana’s body. Imran’s hand resumed its slow stroking on her hip, a silent acknowledgment. Relief washed over Farah, sharp and unexpected. They weren’t mocking her. They weren’t kicking her out. They were holding her.