Ravishing Riverdale 2 (Patreon)

I was too exhausted to really care on the night of, but when I woke up in the morning, all I could feel was the pleasantly seedy sensation of being covered in sweat and the funk of lovemaking. Madelaine, by then, had gotten up and I thought I could hear her tooling around in the kitchen. I’d grown up with five siblings, so I had a pretty good sense for the different sounds of people. Camila, I thought, would still be sleeping—a look at my watch on the coffee table said it was only 7 AM, and I knew how people liked to sleep in on vacation.

I got up, cracking the stiffness out of my joints—if there was one thing worse on the back than sleeping on a couch, it was sleeping on a couch while being someone’s cuddle bunny—and went to the kitchen. It was walled off from the rest of the apartment, with a service window on top of a counter like the place had once been a diner or something. I opened it up and saw Madelaine. She was wearing a bit of red lingerie that looked nicely illegal, and that I was pretty sure she hadn’t been wearing the night before. The notion that Madelaine would dress up in some naughty underwear just to do a big ‘wearing nothing but my underwear in the morning’ scene seemed to fit with what I knew of her. She was standing in front of the microwave, watching as what smelled like oatmeal got the Manhattan Project treatment.

“Morning,” I said.

She turned around with an actorly bit of business meant to evince surprise and a bit of nervousness at being caught in her underwear. I wasn’t quite convinced. Madelaine wore that shit like she was ready to tango with a stripper pole in it.

“Morning, stud,” she said, getting over her ‘nerves.’ “Thought I’d fix us breakfast.”

“Sounds good. I mean, smells good. Both,” I trailed off. “I’m gonna grab a shower. Unless you need it?”

“Do I look like I need it?” she asked. And no. She looked like she’d just been born from sea foam or something.

“Nah,” I told her. 

I went to the bathroom, turned the shower on, and started in on the routine. I’d finished the preliminaries, just standing there and absorbing the heat of the water as it flowed over me, when the door opened. 

It was hard not to feel a pang of arousal, since I’d been thinking of Madelaine, and it’d occurred to me that she might be in the mood for seconds—technically thirds. I turned to see who it was, and though I couldn’t see a lot through the pebbled glass, I could tell dark hair from red.

“Jesus,” I said. “Camila, what are you doing in here?”

“Using the bathroom,” she said, sounding about as gruff as I’d ever heard her. She walked by the stall she was in to go to the bathtub, which she started up. I winced as my hot water started going loco, and stood clear of the shower spray.

“You’re taking a bath?” I asked her, watching in disbelief as she tossed in a complimentary bath bomb.

“Why not?” she asked me, shouting to be heard over the roar of the tub filling. Or maybe just because she was in a loud mood. “You’re with Madelaine now, so isn’t our whole thing pretty platonic? We’re like brother and sister now, right? I could start jilling off here and you wouldn’t make a pass at me.”

“I… don’t do that in front of my siblings,” I said. “And how do you know about the Madelaine thing?”

“Harry, the couch smelled like a peepshow booth and she wasn’t in the bed when I woke up. What am I supposed to think?”

I was getting cold, so I stepped back under the water. It was tepidly warm, but it was better than freezing. “I mean, yeah, we did do some stuff. But it’s not like we’re dating. She was just thanking me for helping her out at the pool.”

“Some thank you,” Camila said. Then, a little less pissed: “So it was a fling?”

“I don’t know what it was,” I admitted. “She’s a little… Hollywood.”

“Yeah,” Camila said. “Lucky the Scientologists haven’t gotten her. Come here.”

“What?” I asked.

“Well, if she gets to thank you for playing lifeguard, don’t I get to thank you for letting me sleepover?”

“Well, I…”

“After all, you’re not dating her. Are you?”

“No,” I said, “but, I mean, it’s complicated. She might--”

“She doesn’t,” Camila said. “Trust me. She’s not big on relationships. Which I probably should’ve realized first thing, but I walk in on her in her sex underwear and you washing off the musk, I just go all Brazil.”

She turned off the water, leaving the bathtub simmering with a full load of pearly pink bubbles.

“Relax,” she said. “I’m not going to rape you. You didn’t save me, after all. I’ll just give you a nice bath. That sounds nice, right?”

Not, to be honest, the best offer I’d gotten in the last 24 hours, but it was up there. And she was sounding so sweet about it I began to feel like an asshole the longer I dithered. I really wasn’t sure if Madelaine and I were dating—all her pillow talk sounded like some kinky fantasy of hers, not anything else. And I didn’t think anyone who jumped into bed, or couch, with someone within a day of meeting them would draw a line at a bath. Maybe, if I were being polite…

“You’re sure about this?” I asked, my hand on the dial. “I have been showering.”

“That’s good,” Camila said. “Otherwise, you’d just be soaking in your own filth. Come on. The water’s getting cold.”

I turned off the shower and stepped out—not quite covering myself, but trying to keep my hips turned modestly. She pinched her lips and moved her eyes to the side accommodatingly, without actually turning her head to look away. It didn’t make me feel very unself-conscious. 

I got into the bathtub and relaxed as best I could. It did feel better than the shower, although I cringed when Camila reached for me.

“Jesus, relax!” she chuckled. “What is this, a Lifetime movie? I’m just getting the shampoo.”

“Oh,” I said. “The shampoo for--?”

“Your hair,” she said. “Where do you use it?”

She poured out a dollop into her hand, lathered it between her palms, then began giving me a scalp massage. It felt way too good for me to want it to end, but eventually she decided I’d had enough. Camila dipped her hands into the bathwater to wash them off, and seeing her reaching toward my naked body under the surface of the water, even for an instant, was definitely an experience.

Next she picked up the bar of soap from the dish, worked up another lather in her hands, and began massaging my arms one at a time. It didn’t feel as good as the scalp massage, but it was nothing to sneer at. When she was done with my arms, she nodded toward my lower body—again, quite the experience—and I hoisted one leg at a time out of the bath for her to wash. 

Then she started to undress.

“Uh, Camila…”

“What?” she asked me. “Did you think I was just going to play geisha? I need a bath too.”

“Yeah, but—should I get out or…”

It was a bit hard to come up with an alternative when she was absolutely naked. So I just laid there as she stepped into the tub, crouched down, and just like that was sitting across from me.

“You know the real reason why Madelaine slept with you, right?” she asked.

I think the lack of blood to my brain caught up with me then. “She accidentally saw my dick when I was saving her from drowning and she decided I was cheaper than buying from Bad Dragon?”

“Besides that,” Camila said, leaning forward. “It’s because I was interested in you. She just had to sleep with you first, just to prove she could. She doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s just this fucking competitive streak. She can’t stand that someone else is Betty, someone else is Veronica, and she’s Little Miss Twincest.”

“Twincest?” I asked.

“My point is,” she said, “I’m sure she didn’t mean to ruin anything between us. She just had to have a snitch of the cake. You can’t let yourself get hung up on it.”

“I’m not hung up on it,” I protested. 

“So it would be a real shame if this great thing we have hit a brick wall just because Madelaine is such a cunt.”

“Hey now, I wouldn’t say she’s…”

“She threw herself at you,” Camila continued. “But I can throw myself at you way better than her.”

Actually, it was more of a lunge. She started kissing me and the next thing I knew, we were lounging on the same side of the bathtub. She was turned on her side, lying on my chest. One buoyant breast sloped enough to touch my sternum, and it felt damn good there. Her face was nuzzled against my neck. She had a washcloth now, slick with soap, and she ran it over me as often as it crawled over her own body. She kissed me every few moment, touching my mouth with her wet lips, her sensuous tongue only tracing over the whiskers of my unshaved face, not confronting my own tongue.

The washcloth reached down to my lap. She was a real tease—she just barely touched me there, sliding the washcloth off to the right, but letting the back of her hand trail gently along my hard-on. Even more teasingly, the bubbly suds hid all of what she was doing but the feel. But nothing at all of the curves of her body, half-out of the water and right on top of me. And I’d thought Madelaine had been born from seafoam. 

Camila’s lips brushed over mine, followed the angle of my jawline, and she sighed just as she kissed my ear. “Now. Aren’t you way more seduced than you were with Madelaine?”

“I didn’t take notes,” I told her, getting a little assertive as I put our lips together and tickled her tongue with mine. She pulled away with a giggling, embarrassed sort of arousal, like she hadn’t meant it to go that far, even if I’m pretty sure this was the kind of situation that used to end in shotgun weddings.

If it was that genuine, she got over it quickly. Camila put her arms around me and smirked at me as she rested her soapy tits against my chest. Slowly. She clearly realized that it was the kind of thing a guy notices. “You wanna hear something fucked up? I can’t stop thinking about you and Madelaine. It actually kinda turns me on. I guess I have a bit of a competitive streak too. Heck, maybe mine’s worse. I am Veronica, after all.”

“I thought you were Betty.”

She rolled her eyes and kissed my cheek. “I’m gonna fuck you better than that skank ever could.”

“Betty? Or Madelaine?”

“Either. Because I want a boyfriend way more than Madelaine. Some days, all I can think about is having my very own man to fuck. Put his cock in between my legs, whenever I want, as long as I want.”

“Is it as long as you want?” I teased her.

“Almost too long,” she said. “Long enough to hurt…”

“I’ll be gentle,” I assured her.

“Don’t you dare.”

She held the washcloth up high, letting it drip water down to my chest, before dropping it so it slapped against my breadbasket and stayed there. With her hand free, she reached down into the water and curved her fingers around my cock, slowly caressing it. I could hear her panting breath quicken as she tightened her grip on my prick, her thumb running over my cockhead. I grunted my approval just before Camila pressed her lips against mine. She jerked up and down on my cock as she nibbled at my lips, suckled at my tongue. I got a grip myself, dropping a hand onto her upturned ass and beginning to knead the smooth flesh. Camila let out a whimper as I got a little rougher, even giving her buttocks a light slap. The pressure on my throbbing cock only got harder as I encouraged her.

I breathed slow and heavy, seemingly only able to inhale and exhale on the short intervals when Camila had finished a downstroke, an upstroke. Camila squirmed on top of me, pressing our nude bodies together. Her breasts slid over my chest, taking advantage of the layers of soap that made us incredibly slippery. It seemed the only real traction was Camila’s hand on my dick, going around it in smooth, slow circles, just how I liked it.

Her hand twisted from side to side with greater and greater pressure, grinding against my cock as she worked her fist up and down. I squeezed her ass tighter, clawing my hand into the sleek ripe flesh. I was now grunting in time with her cranking windings of my cock. Camila lifted her head and stared into my face, out of breath, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wild.

“I want you inside,” she gasped. “I want you to come inside my pussy.”

I nodded, breathless from my own efforts to not simply come in her hand. I wanted this bath to last as long as possible. And I didn’t know how long I could hold out, fucking Camila’s pussy instead of her hand, but even if I turned into a two-pump chump, it’d be worth it.

“You sit down on my cock,” I told you, “and I can pretty much guarantee you I’ll come inside that pussy.”

Splaying her hands on my chest, Camila pushed herself up. She planted her knees on the bottom of the tub, to either side of my body, and held herself above my erection. Suds from the bubble bath were sloshing off her body, sticking to the wet flesh like they couldn’t bear to let go of her.

“Here I am, Harry,” she teased. “Come and get me.”

I got a firm grip on her waist—her ass was so voluptuous that my fingers barely crested its curve. I pulled Camila down on me, working my hips in barely concealed enthusiasm as I tried to get my cockhead to meet her pussy. I could feel the warm, slick wetness that had nothing to do with the bath. Camila tensed under my hands, then gasped in pleasure as I dragged her down against my cock.

But I didn’t enter her—not just yet. I wanted to tease her like she’d done me. I rocked my hips back and forth, sliding the glans of my member slowly up the whole length of her slit. I pressed into it, circled it, but I didn’t go inside her. Camila stared down at me, her breasts heaving so hard they threw off some of the soap bubbles that flecked them. She wasn’t too amused, but her eyes went wide as my engorged cockhead touched her clit. Her hands slapped against the rim of the tub, gripping it tightly as she silently begged for more. I angled my hips downward, worked her around with my hands so that my cockhead slid away from her clit, back down her pussy. 

But her eyes were still wide, wide and pleading. She was begging me to fuck her. But I wanted to see her moan with sheer desire before I gave her my cock.

“Let me have it,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want my cunt?”

I didn’t answer, working my cockhead up against her so that the very tip was inside her sex. Her eyelids fluttered in ecstasy; I could actually hear her breathing shake with every throb my member gave. Then I tugged it out again and slid my entire length between her swollen, needy lips. I imagined she could feel every blood cell in the ugly vein going down the underside of my shaft. Her legs clenched, quivering with effort as they pushed out against the sides of the tub trying to spread her legs even wider. Her breasts jiggled with every shudder of frustration and need that passed through her. But it was like she was frozen—she wouldn’t do anything to make me enter her before I decided to. There was something supremely arousing about that ill-tempered patience she had; all she could do was beg.

“That feels so good, Harry,” she strained. “I want it… inside… deep inside me.”

Her voice cracked as she said it. After that, I couldn’t hold back anymore. Camila’s cunt was at least as delectable as Madelaine’s had been; it was like my desire for one became a desire for both, like by fucking Camila I was having Madelaine again. I gave a sharp slap to her buttocks, watched her jaw drop in unreadable shock, and then pulled her down hard. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her head followed a moment later, thrown back so hard that her hair slapped wetly against her spine. 

“Oh yes, Harry!” she moaned; it was almost a sob of bliss. “In there. In me! Fuck my pussy! I want you to come in… oh!”

I worked my hips around in tiny circles, teasing Camila just a little more as I tried to buy time so I didn’t just go off inside her. I started working my cock in and out, every loop I made pushing it in just a bit further. Camila was all moans and begging sighs, and they only grew louder as I kept to the rhythm. Then, with even less resolve than I’d used to unsuccessfully resist penetrating her, I pulled her down on top of me. I entered her to the hilt with a simultaneous thrust of my hips as she fell against my chest, her breasts literally cushioning the blow. The feel of her whole body pressed to mine, her pussy all around my prick, was nearly enough to make me go off then and there.

“Ohhhhhhhh! Good… thank you… good,” she whimpered, moaning, gnashing her teeth as I basked in the warmth and pressure inside her. She squirmed against me in helplessly little spasms as I worked myself back and forth between her spread legs. She was tight, God, was she tight. My cock felt like it was caught in a vise that’d been wrapped in silk a thousand times. I gave her all of my length and paused inside her again, savoring the feel of her hot cunt.

“Oh Harry,” she sighed, seeming to just now realize she was fucked. She had a doofy grin on her face that struck me as pretty goddamn adorable, considering. I smiled back at her and gave her a kiss. Afterward, she just bowed her head, her forehead against her mouth, and I could feel her breathy little pants going against my throat.

I couldn’t disappoint her when she needed it so badly. I slid myself slowly in and out of her sex, setting a rhythm with my hips that soon picked up seed. I tried to direct my movements with my grip on her waist, but she struggled against it, setting her own pace as she rode me with her bucking hips. Soon, I was just trying to keep up.

“I love it,” she panted against my throat, her breath warm and hurried. “I really love it, Harry… and your cock is so good!”

“I’m gonna come,” I moaned.

“Yes… Harry… come inside me like you promised… keep fucking me till you come inside…”

“Your cunt feels so good,” I gasped back, not thinking what I was saying, just wanting to say something as arousing as those gasping little words of hers.

“Harder. Fuck me harder until you come!”

With all the racket we were making, it’s no wonder neither of us had heard the door open. But somehow I felt some psychic tension, and that’s how I realized Madelaine was standing in the middle of the bathroom, staring at us. She’d thrown on one of the hotel’s complimentary robes over her lingerie set, and the added layer of obfuscation only made her look more erotic. It was a struggle not to come with this sudden new reason to in the room.

“Well,” she rolled her eyes, “this is just typical.”

Camila sat up, straddling me again and still working her hips against mine so I was helpless not to keep up with her. “Get over yourself, Petsch. If I’d fucked him last night, you’d be here right now.”

“True,” Madelaine said, getting out her smartphone and checking her messages. “But still, I fucked him first.”

“I’m not a morning person,” Camila shot back. 

Madelaine put her phone away with a sigh of disapproval. Apparently it hadn’t yielded anything interesting. “Just remember your deal with Lili. Share and share alike.”

“I hadn’t forgotten,” Camila insisted. It was a bit disconcerting how fluidly she was carrying on a conversation while riding me like she was breaking in a horse. A little hot, too, but then, I couldn’t imagine there was much Camila could do buck-naked and going cowgirl on me in a bath that wouldn’t have been hot. She could’ve been filling out college admission essays and I’d’ve been into it.

“As long as you remember,” Madelaine said with a note of finality, and walked up next to the tub. She hooked a thumb in the waistband of her panties and worked them down to mid-thigh, holding the crotch down low to show off her bare pussy. “Look at my cunt, Camila. Look at my cunt while you fuck him.”

Camila rolled her eyes and tossed her hair, starting to look away just as being sassy, but Madelaine grabbed her by the hair with her other hand and forced her face back to her. Camila actually started looking a little turned on now. I’ll never understand women.

I shoved faster into Camila, grunting rhythmically as I found the depths of her open and willing, time and time again. She ran her hands down my chest and up her body and gripped Madelaine’s arm as, with a huge groan, she began fucking herself up and down in time with my cock plunging into her. I let out a desperate moan: I was there, I was gone, I could feel myself on the edge between the two.

“Keep going, Camila! I’m gonna come!”

“Uh! Come in me, Harry!”

“Yeah, come in her,” Madelaine said, able to sound at once bored and totally invested, and aroused despite herself. “Take his cream, Camila, just like you’re taking his shaft—dirty girl.”

My cock jerked and began to fire. I felt my muscles clenching so hard they turned to stone, still vibrating pleasurably as the waves of my orgasm ran through me. Thick streams of cum burst into Camila’s sex, thrust out of me as I stiffened. And when I finished spurting, Camila went limp on top of me, slipping out of Madelaine’s grip as she whimpered with her own echoing climax.

“That was fun,” Madelaine said, wiping her wet hand off on her robe. “Let me know the next time you guys fuck.” Then, by the same token: “Camila, I’ll probably be fucking him before dinner. Work up an appetite, you know. Let me know if you think you’ll need the bed then.”

And she left.

I suppose that clarified something about our relationship status, though I couldn’t think of what. Mostly, I was just glad Camila had seduced me. I held her in my arms and she held me in hers, dropping gratefully off to sleep as the bath’s bubbles popped slowly around her. I felt myself drifting off too, and I let myself, satisfied and groggy with her weight against my body. We slept together in the bath, the water growing cold just as our overheated bodies cooled down. Camila’s heartbeat rang powerfully against my chest. It seemed to match the rhythm we’d just set as we shared our bodies.