"Marvelous" with Dafne Keen and Xochitl Gomez

[TheLW]

Marvelous
With Dafne Keen and Xochitl Gomez
Written by TheLW
Codes: MFF, Blowjob, Fingering, Rim Job
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

A few months into dating Dafne Keen, things were going great, even with me being in my mid-thirties and her just turning twenty. We’d kept things low-key, but tonight was different. The Fantastic Four premiere was the full Hollywood circus, flashing cameras, fans screaming, interviewers firing questions from every angle.

Dafne looked breathtaking. She wore a sleek, black strapless gown that hugged her figure perfectly, the subtle banding of the fabric emphasizing every curve. The dress had a daring slit down one side, and the back was tied with a delicate ribbon that trailed just enough to catch the light with every step. Her dark hair was swept into a loose updo, soft tendrils framing her face, and her makeup was polished, smokey eyes with a hint of shimmer, lips glossy and perfectly shaped. Every camera wanted her, but tonight she had her sights set on me.

Xochitl Gomez stood a few steps behind, a playful contrast. She wore a short, pale pink ensemble that was impossibly chic, a fitted, button-down top with a cutout at the chest, paired with a matching mini skirt that showed off her long legs. Her hair was styled in a retro-inspired flip, held back by a wide white headband, and her makeup highlighted her youthful glow with soft, dewy tones. She radiated fun and confidence, the kind that made the red carpet feel alive.

I kept pace between them in a traditional black tuxedo, crisp white shirt and black bow tie in place, polished shoes catching the lights of the photographers. I felt every glance flick between us, whispers about the age gap and the dynamic no one else could see.

After the whirlwind of photo ops and interviews, we finally slipped into the theater, the soft hush of the crowd and the dim glow of the screen a welcome relief from the chaos outside. The scent of popcorn lingered faintly in the air, and the low hum of anticipation made every movement feel amplified. Halfway through the movie, I felt her lean in, her arm brushing against me, and then her lips grazed my ear with a whisper so soft it made the dialogue on the screen blur into white noise. My heartbeat quickened, and I realized I couldn’t concentrate on the plot, no matter how hard I tried.

We exchanged that look again, the one that needed no words, the one that held our shared mischief and quiet understanding. It was almost imperceptible to anyone else but undeniable to us. Without a word, we slipped our hands together, fingers intertwining naturally as if they had always belonged that way. Slowly, we rose from our seats, hearts in sync with each small movement, and navigated the darkened rows toward the exit, savoring that delicious thrill of stepping into our own little world outside the confines of the theater.

We eased the small door shut behind us, the soft click sealing us off from the glow and chatter of the theater. The VIP lounge was dim and quiet, the kind of space that felt too private for anyone to stumble into by accident. A few low couches were scattered around, upholstered in rich, dark fabric, each one sitting in its own little pool of shadow like it was waiting for a secret to be kept there.

Dafne stepped forward, her gown shimmering faintly in the light, catching glints from somewhere overhead. Her eyes locked on mine, and I could see the familiar spark, the one that said she already knew what we were doing here, even if neither of us had said it aloud.

Seconds later, Dafne closed the distance in a rush, her hands finding my shoulders as her lips pressed against mine. Her mouth was insistent, desperate, tongue searching for mine as we lost all sense of pretext. I angled my head, hands cupping the sharp line of her jaw, breath catching when her teeth grazed my lower lip. The kiss deepened, as we continued to explore each other’s mouth, her tongue curling around mine.

She broke for breath, forehead pressed to mine, eyes open. “You know this is all I thought about on the carpet,” she whispered.

Her confession made me grin, uncontainably, so that I had to press my lips to her cheek to muffle it. “You looked so serious for the interviews,” I whispered, “like you had a secret no one else was in on.”

She gave a tiny, wicked smirk. “Well, I did.” Her hand grazed my arm, pulling me towards the nearest couch. We collapsed into it together, the oversized cushions swallowing us whole, her dress pooling over both of our legs. Dafne was tiny but wickedly strong.

Seconds later, Dafne’s dress was hiked up, as my hand slid underneath, through the slick, soaked fabric of her thong. She was already wet for me, a dark patch blooming beneath the pressure of my thumb as I stroked along her seam, feeling her flex and shudder with every small movement. Dafne’s lips parted into a gasp, and her hand shot out to grip my wrist.

The lounge lighting painted her skin bronze and honey. She arched into my hand, tilting her head back, jawline exposed and glowing, as if inviting me to taste beneath her ear. My fingers slipped beneath the elastic with a practiced drag, and I traced along the hot, soft crest of her mound, feeling her shiver at the smallest touch. She was slick and soft and ready, every small gasp from her only making me bolder. I probed her slit with the tip of my finger, not quite entering, enjoying the way her thighs pressed together, trapping my hand as if she wanted to keep me there, just at the edge.

Dafne let out a muffled groan, and I pressed harder, letting a fingertip slide inside her. Her muscles clenched around me, impossibly tight, she didn’t bother to hide her need, gasping into my neck as I slowly started to pump a finger in and out of her, feeling her flutter and contract with every motion.

She let her head loll back, hair tumbling loose from its pins, eyes shining in the dim. “God, I love your hands,” she choked out, her accent thickening as sensation pulled her further away from language. “Don’t stop… please, don’t…”

I made a small, soothing sound and pushed another finger inside, scissoring slowly, feeling her stretch around me. She was tight and greedy, dragging my fingers back in every time they left her body. I twirled my thumb up to press against her clit, and she shuddered so hard the couch creaked beneath us. It was almost embarrassing, how quickly I could turn her into this, how little distance there was between her cool red-carpet composure and the wild, writhing need in her eyes. It made me want her more, and I could barely keep from marking her up in a way the makeup artists would curse me for later.

Dafne’s breathing went hot and fast, her hips pressing up into my hand, chasing every movement. She was trembling on the edge already, her whole body strung tight, she’d let the anticipation build throughout the day and now it was barreling towards her break point. I pressed my thumb harder against her clit, moving in slow, hard circles, and pumped my fingers in that sweet spot she craved. The gasp she let out was half-laugh, half-sob, and her thighs clamped around my wrist like a vice.

“Oh... fuck...” she whispered, the word shaking on her tongue. Her head dropped to my shoulder, teeth bared, then buried in the fabric of my tux, biting down to stifle the next sound. She came hard, body locking and shaking, the release soaking my fingers and the seat beneath us. I held her through it, stroking her, relishing the way she shuddered and rolled her hips in time with the aftershocks.

There was an unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat, as Dafne’s body froze, eyes wide. I tried to yank my hand out and nearly sent both of us tumbling off the velvet settee. Xochitl Gomez was standing there, every inch of her perfectly put-together and all pink.

“Oh my god,” Xochitl said, a hint of mischief in her voice.

Dafne went so still she might have been a wax statue, caught red-handed. A second passed, two, and then she popped upright, struggling to get her dress down over her hips, a wild flush spreading from her chest to her cheeks.

“It’s, um, it’s not what it looks like,” she said, voice wobbling in a way I’d never heard from her before.

Xochitl’s smile could’ve split the moon. “Oh, it looks like you’re getting fingered in the lounge while the rest of us try to watch a movie,” she said, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “But don’t worry, I can totally keep a secret.” She cocked her head to the side, gaze flickering from Dafne’s ruined lipstick to the mess on my hand, then back to Dafne.

Dafne opened her mouth, closed it, then shrugged theatrically. “I slipped,” she said. “Dangerous surfaces in here.”

Xochitl giggled. “If I had a dollar for every time you tried to convince me your sex life wasn’t exciting, Well, I would only have a dollar.”

“You got room for one more, or do you need to tuck your dress back in, D?”

Dafne made a sound that was half mortified, half a dare. “Shut up,” she hissed, but her hand clenched tighter around my arm, daring Xochitl to say something worse.

Xochitl didn’t flinch. She slid onto the couch beside us, the pink skirt riding high on her thighs, white headband a perfect halo over her mischievous eyes. She perched, knees inched apart, gaze fixed on me with a smile that was all invitation.

“So, what’s it like?” she asked, tilting her head, lips parted. “Being with her, I mean. Is it as wild as everyone says?” The question was delivered to me but her eyes were on Dafne, who still looked like she might bolt or bite, maybe both.

I squeezed Dafne’s hip, fingers trailing along the now-bunched seam of her dress. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe even wilder.”

“Lucky,” Xochitl murmured, letting the word hang in the low-lit air. “You know, she told me once you’ve got a cock most people would be scared of.”

Xochitl then reached out and took my free hand, slick with Dafne, and pulled it to her mouth. Her tongue darted out for a tiny, deliberate lick along my knuckle, eyes never leaving mine.

“God,” she said, almost reverent, “you really know how to pick them, Keen.”

Dafne just arched an eyebrow, but her hand snuck back to my thigh, fingers digging in. “You’re the one who likes to share.” The words landed with a hot, thrilling precision, and I felt some high-voltage current zip down my backbone.

I should have been nervous, but it was impossible, not with Dafne’s sharp gaze, and Xochitl’s bright, sunlit energy radiating off her like steam.

Xochitl leaned back, surveying us with a half-smirk, mouth glistening. “So what now?” she said.

“You have somewhere to be?” she asked.

“Only if it’s with you two.” Xochitl was irrepressible, her excitement uncontainable, and it made me want to reach across and touch her just to feel it up close.

A few moments later, I found myself with my face buried in Dafne’s asshole, who was bent over the couch, eating her oh so perfect rear end out, as Xochitl had her teenage lips wrapped around my monster cock. The taste of Dafne was something else, the kind of flavor you only got from pure adrenaline and anticipation. I spread her ass cheeks even further apart, as my tongue circling and teasing the rim of her asshole.

Right beneath me, Xochitl was a force of nature in pink. She’d knelt between my knees without a moment’s hesitation, and now she had my cock in both hands, her lips stretched wide, eyes glazed but intent. There was nothing coy about her technique, she was hungry, and unrelenting, taking me halfway down her throat before letting her hand finish what her mouth couldn’t. Sometimes she’d pull off with a quiet pop, cheek streaked with spit, and look up at me with that wild, playful glint. Every time she did, she’d catch me just as I flicked my tongue deeper into Dafne, and she’d giggle, the sound vibrating up the length of my cock.

Dafne writhed under my hands, grinding back against my face, chasing every movement. Her moans were low, needy, half-muffled as she bit into the sofa cushion to keep from yelling. God, she was so responsive, so open; I loved how she shed every inch of composure the moment I touched her like this. I worked my thumb down to stroke at her slit, feeling her gush between her legs as I rimmed her out. I inhaled her clean, sweet sweat, the perfume of her skin close and intoxicating. My tongue circled her rim, teasing the soft muscle there until she quivered under my mouth, an unguarded moan slipping from her lips.

I teased Dafne till she trembled, until her thighs went taut around my head and her back arched, daring me to finish what I’d started. I pressed my tongue just inside, slow and deliberate, and her hips rocked back so hard it nearly knocked me off balance. Xochitl, unfazed, gripped my cock tighter, steadying herself against the shifting gravity of Dafne’s need.

It was all so unreal, the pop and sizzle of it, Dafne’s shake and whimper, my head spinning from her scent, and Xochitl’s relentless, sun-bright hunger bracketing it all. She worked my cock with an almost competitive focus, one hand twisting at the base with each bob of her head, the other bracing against my thigh. The suction of her lips was exquisite, but every time she looked up and caught me watching Dafne, she’d moan just a little.

Xochitl’s tongue licked the underside of my cock, wet and electric, as she bobbed deeper, her hands working a counter-rhythm that made me dizzy. She hummed, sending tremors right through me, all the while her eyes darted from my red, devouring face to the way Dafne’s thighs quaked above. There was no shyness in her, just curiosity and glee, like a girl at the world’s best birthday party trying every flavor of cake at once.

Dafne was a mess, hair falling wild, cheeks smudged with ruined contour, legs shivering with the tension of holding herself up. She didn’t bother pretending for Xochitl; she let every moan rip out of her, every gasp turning into a pleading noise that somehow sounded both regal and desperate. I pressed forward, tongue flattening against her, and she shoved back with a violence that made me proud, like she wanted to grind the bones of her hips into my skull.

“Ugh, so fucking good!,” Dafne cried out in pleasure.

Somewhere between the gasps, Xochitl let out a laugh, as if she honestly couldn’t believe this was her life. “You guys are fucking insane,” she managed, but instead of being deterred, her hand snaked up Dafne’s trembling thigh and squeezed, hard, like she wanted to see just how much more Dafne could take. The move made Dafne’s knees buckle, her whole lower half collapsing, so she sprawled across the sofa, cheek to cushion, hips up like a present.

I slid up behind her, cock still glistening from Xochitl’s mouth, and lined myself up. Dafne was wet and ready, her whole body thrumming with need. I pressed in slow, relishing how she opened up for me, the way she gasped so sharp it almost cut the air. I could see Xochitl watching us over Dafne’s shoulder, eyes wide and shining with intent, she was close enough to brush Dafne’s hair back from her face and press a soft kiss to her temple as I bottomed out inside her.

The room filled with the sound of skin against skin, the damp, hungry slap of my thrusts against Dafne’s ass, each one drawing a new, unguarded moan from her. She clutched at the cushions, nails digging in, but her attention never left Xochitl.

I pumped into Dafne hard, setting a rhythm that rippled up her spine and tightened my grip on her hips. She tossed her head and let out a wail, the velvet muffling her voice as Xochitl stroked her hair and whispered filth into her ear. It was surreal to watch Xochitl, all pink innocence, turn co-conspirator, coaxing Dafne through every shudder while locking eyes with me, like she could see each bolt of pleasure I sent tearing through Dafne’s body.

I reached around, hand still slicked with her juices, and found Dafne’s clit. Two fingers circled and pressed, and Dafne lost all composure, her legs kicked out, her whole body arched, and she came so hard the sound was animal, undiluted. I felt her squeeze around me, fluttering and wet, the jolt of it tipping me close to the edge. Xochitl gave a laugh, pure delight, and pulled me out, knuckles guiding my cock from Dafne’s quivering body straight to her own eager mouth.

She sucked the taste of Dafne from my cock, humming with messy, blissful greed. I watched her eyes flutter closed for a second, savoring, then open again, bold and hungry. She didn’t ask permission, she just pulled me closer, plunging her mouth down until she gagged wetly at the back of her throat, nostrils flaring as she took every inch. I hissed, hips jerking forward, and looked down to see Xochitl’s lips stretched tight, spit gleaming on her chin, her eyes watering but wild with determination. She held me there, nose buried in my pubes, pulse fluttering at her temples. Then she pulled off with a messy gasp, tongue flicking up the shaft as if she couldn’t bear to let even a drop slip by.

Dafne, half-collapsed beside us on the couch, reached up with trembling fingers and stroked the side of Xochitl’s face. There was something possessive in the gesture, like she was proud and a little awed by the show. She arched an eyebrow at me, still panting, and wordlessly dared me to keep up.

Xochitl spun, still on her knees, and straddled my lap in one fluid motion. Her skirt rode up over her hips, and I realized she’d ditched her panties somewhere along the line. She hovered over my cock, one hand guiding the tip to her entrance, the other splayed on my chest. For a second she just balanced there, shivering with anticipation, and then she dropped, impaling herself with a hungry, grateful moan.

She was tight and hot, the press of her all-consuming, the angle made my vision blur, the velvet friction of her folds like a furnace dragging me in. Xochitl didn’t ease into it, she sank down all the way, bottoming out so her ass smacked my thighs and stayed there, grinding in slow, greedy circles, eyes locked on mine, enjoying how my mouth hung open.

“Jesus,” I heard myself say, breathless.

“Right?” Xochitl gasped, voice gleaming with laughter and awe, her hips never stopping. “Why do you think I crashed your date?”

Dafne slumped beside us, bare legs tucked beneath her as she watched Xochitl ride me with a covetous grin. She pressed her arm around my shoulders and bit down on the curve of my neck, not gentle, leaving a mark she knew I’d have to explain. Her other hand slipped between Xochitl’s legs, two fingers painting up the seam till they found her clit, rubbing the way she liked, as if she’d done it a thousand times before.

Dafne’s hand worked Xochitl’s clit with ruthless precision, and Xochitl responded in spirals of exhaled curses, writhing harder on top of me. Sweat shivered along the delicate knit of her brow, until even the opalescent snap of her white headband seemed to tremble with the pace of her hips. Xochitl’s thighs shuddered, her body fluttering in peaks and stuttering aftershocks, and I realized I was holding my breath, hypnotized by the way her need played out on her face, total, irreducible.

Watching Dafne finger Xochitl was like seeing a master pianist perform on a new instrument. Dafne was loose now, all restraint burned off by orgasm and mischief, her hand cupping and circling between Xochitl’s thighs with unhurried confidence. She murmured encouragement in Spanish, each syllable half dirty, half worshipful, and Xochitl drank it up, shivering and grinning and gasping as she ground down on my cock.

“Dafne, oh my god...” Xochitl’s hands were greedy at my shoulders, desperate for a place to put all that sensation. She rocked back, taking me impossibly deep, her thighs shaking as she bounced with increasing urgency. Dafne pressed her forehead to the curve of Xochitl’s neck and licked upward to her earlobe, tongue flickering on each ragged breath.

I braced Xochitl’s hips with both hands. Her pussy gripped my cock like a fist, velvet-soft, and the way she ground down, shameless, greedy, made the urge to cum hit like a tidal wave flattening a sandcastle. I tried to slow it, to draw out the moment, God, she was beautiful, sweat pearling at her hairline, the retro flip of her headband starting to sag as she bucked and writhed, but the clench of her body and the sight of Dafne’s deft fingers working between her legs threatened to undo me.

“Jesus…” I panted, barely able to keep my voice low.

Xochitl’s face twisted in a mask of concentration and electric pleasure, and started to bounce harder, now, like she was racing to see who could come first. The slap of her ass on my lap was raw music, and I watched as each time she bottomed out, her whole body seemed to light up with the intensity. Dafne’s lips brushed Xochitl’s neck, all the while her hand was busy, working Xochitl’s clit in shimmering little flicks.

It was obscene, the heat and the closeness, every one of us tangled together and straining, nothing hidden and shameless. Xochitl let her head roll back, eyes shut, jaw slack with pleasure, every bounce of her hips sent another wet, obscene squelch into the room, punctuated by the panted little cries she didn’t bother to muffle. I felt Dafne’s gaze on me, hungry and sharp, a wildfire feeding on everything in sight. She kissed up my neck again, lips slick and hot, and whispered, “Fill her up. Show her who she belongs to.”

It was too much. My orgasm ripped through me, violent and sudden, and I grabbed Xochitl’s waist, holding her flush against my pelvis as I spilled inside her. She was cumming, too, her body locked, a shrill, wild keen tearing from her throat. She kept riding through it, aftershocks milking every ounce of sensation from both of us until I slumped, spent, into the cushions.

For a moment, nobody moved. Xochitl collapsed onto my chest, breath coming in ragged, jubilant bursts, her forehead pressed against my shoulder. Dafne melted around us, arms encircling both of our bodies, her little gasp of laughter vibrating through all three of us.

My own heartbeat hadn’t even slowed when the sound came, the unmistakable click of a door handle turning, a half-second warning before the soft spill of voices filtered into the lounge from the hallway. My brain paddled sluggishly through the panic, but it was Dafne who snapped us out of the daze, straightening with feline speed and shoving her arm into the crook of Xochitl’s, yanking her upright.

“Clothes, clothes, now!” Dafne hissed, her eyes alive with mischief and terror.

The three of us jerked into a barely-contained scramble, desperately rearranging limbs and fabrics. Xochitl yanked her skirt down, frantically patting her hair in place, I tried to knot my tie with one hand, my other palm slick and raw from where it had been buried, moments before, inside two of the most fascinating women I’d ever met. Dafne smoothed her dress over her hips with a magician’s grace, snatched up lipstick from the low table, and smeared her mouth back into the perfect bloody line, as though nothing had ever happened.

The End

[Blocboy VC]

Great job. I'm not usually too crazy about first person perspective, but I didn't mind it at all here. I like that everyone had personality, both women and our protagonist didn't feel like empty husks. The detail was really good too, the sex stuff was explicit but not overly raunchy or gross. I'd recommend posting this to AO3 as well, although that's mostly cause I wanna download it and ad it to my collection of fanfics lol.