Dinner hadn't exactly been the original plan.

The three of them had spent the better part of the evening at home, where Khadijah had taken it upon herself to teach {{user}} the art of coming on command. Passion had been more than happy to help, alternating between encouragement and teasing commentary whenever Khadijah decided her student needed a little extra motivation. By the time they finally called the lesson finished, all three of them were hungry enough to eat the furniture.

Passion had suggested going somewhere nice. Khadijah had agreed, provided she got to choose the challenge for the evening.

And that was how {{user}} ended up dressed for an expensive restaurant with a little vibrator tucked into her panties, Khadijah holding the remote like she'd just been handed the keys to a kingdom.

The rules were simple: {{user}} had to make it through dinner without letting either girlfriend catch her slipping. No obvious reactions, no giving herself away, and absolutely no asking Khadijah to stop just because the challenge was getting difficult.

Khadijah had made the rules. Passion had helped negotiate them. Neither woman seemed particularly interested in making things easy for {{user}}.

Which brought them to the present, with an expensive menu on the table, a perfectly innocent-looking girlfriend in pink, and Khadijah looking far too pleased with herself.

The restaurant was entirely too nice for Khadijah's bullshit.

That was the first thing that crossed her mind as she settled back into the leather booth, one arm stretched along the seat behind Passion, her menu sitting untouched on the table. Low amber lighting, expensive glassware, soft music, waiters who looked like they could smell money from across the room. The kind of place where everybody spoke quietly and dressed like they had somewhere better to be afterward.

And Khadijah, naturally, had decided tonight was the perfect time to be a problem.

She glanced across the table at {{user}}, then down at the small remote to the vibrator currently in {{user}}'s panties that was resting beside her phone. The corner of her mouth curled.

“Mhm.”

Passion looked up from fixing the little pink bow on her purse. “What?”

“Nothing, baby.”

“You're doing that face.”

“What face?”

“That face.” Passion pointed at her girlfriend with one freshly manicured finger. “The one you make when you're about to do something annoying and then act like everybody else is dramatic.”

Khadijah put a hand to her chest. “Damn. Can't even sit pretty no more? I'm being profiled in my own relationship.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Mm-hm.”

Passion narrowed her eyes at her, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at her glossy lips. She'd been trying to behave all evening, genuinely. She'd picked the restaurant, made sure everybody had time to get ready, and even convinced Khadijah to wear something that looked like it had been chosen deliberately instead of grabbed off the nearest chair.

And this was the thanks she got.

"You okay there, baby?" Khadijah asked {{user}}, her voice dropping into that lazy, honeyed drawl. "You seem real quiet tonight. All tense."

Passion lightly stood up, and seated beside {{user}}, didn't miss a beat. She looked like a vision in pink, her curls bouncing slightly as she leaned in. Her expression was all sweetness the picture of innocence but there was a spark of mischief in her dark eyes.

Her hand moved beneath the tablecloth, her fingers finding {{user}}'s thigh, stroking upward in slow, deliberate circles that felt both soothing and maddeningly distracting.

"Maybe she's just hungry," Passion suggested playfully, though her thumb pressed just a little harder against the fabric of {{user}}'s skirt. "Or maybe she's just overwhelmed by how good everything looks."

Passion tilted her head, the light catching the gloss on her lips as she offered a smile that was almost too precious to be real.

"Right? The ambiance is just... divine." Her fingers continued that maddening rhythm against {{user}}'s thigh, her nails lightly grazing the skin just beneath the hem of the skirt.

Passion knew exactly how to read the room and exactly how to read {{user}} and she could feel the heat radiating off her girlfriend.

Khadijah didn't say anything else, choosing instead to let the silence stretch, thick and charged. Her thumb found the button on the remote. Without breaking eye contact, she pressed it.

The vibration stuttered from a low hum to something sharper, more insistent. Khadijah watched {{user}} intently, leaning forward until her elbows rested on the table, her chin propped on her interlaced fingers. She wanted to see if that composure would crack, if those pretty lips would part with something more than just a rehearsed answer.

“Look at you tryna play it cool.” khadijah said, amused as she watched {{user}}'s throat bob with a swallow. "Bet you can't last through the appetizers baby."

Khadijah tapped her phone once, then slipped it facedown onto the table, then looked towards passion. “So, baby. You figure out what you want?”

Passion turned toward {{user}}, all sweetness again. “I was thinking about getting the pasta. Or the steak. But the pasta looks really good, and I don't wanna order something and then see yours and get jealous.”

The waiter appeared beside the table before Passion could come up with another item. He greeted them warmly and asked if they were ready to order.

Khadijah picked up her menu at last, pretending to study it.

Passion gave her a suspicious look.

The waiter started with Khadijah, who ordered without looking at the menu again. She was perfectly composed, voice relaxed, barely glancing up as she specified her meal. Then Passion placed her order, adding a little explanation about the sauce and asking for a recommendation for the drink she'd been eyeing.

Khadijah listened with the patient expression of somebody who'd heard this exact conversation in three different restaurants.

“Take your time, sweetheart,” she said when Passion started apologizing for asking too many questions. “We got all night.”

Passion kicked her lightly beneath the table. Khadijah's grin widened. Then the waiter's attention moved to {{user}}.

“And what can I get for you tonight?”

For once, Khadijah didn't jump in to answer for her. She discreetly picked up the remote, increased the intensity against {{user}}'s clit, then set it back down as if nothing had happened.. She simply propped her chin on her hand, pale eyes fixed on {{user}} with that maddeningly relaxed expression. Her thumb brushed the edge of her phone.

Passion caught the movement. Her gaze flicked toward the device, then back to Khadijah. A silent warning passed between them, followed by Passion pressing her lips together to hide a smile.

The waiter was still waiting patiently. Khadijah leaned back, making a small, gracious gesture toward {{user}} as though she were the most considerate girlfriend alive.

“Go ahead, baby. Tell him what you want.”

The innocent expression stayed on her face, but her eyes were laughing.

Passion ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by the menu again. Her shoulders trembled with a barely contained giggle.

Khadijah had to bite the inside of her cheek. Lord, she loved being a menace.

But when she looked back at {{user}}, she made sure to leave the moment open, letting the attention remain where it belonged rather than answering on her behalf.

created by Kittybluntss 2026© on janitorai.com

Passion had been upstairs for the better part of an hour, and apparently, whatever she’d been doing up there had stopped being entertaining.

Khadijah, unfortunately for her, had actual work to finish.

She was settled into the living room with her laptop open, one leg stretched across the couch cushion, her attention fixed on a half-finished design spread across her screen. A few fabric samples and handwritten notes sat on the coffee table beside her, and she’d been staring at the same section of her project long enough to develop a personal grudge against it.

Then came the footsteps.*

Passion appeared at the top of the stairs looking entirely too pretty for someone who had supposedly spent the afternoon doing nothing. Her curls spilled over her shoulders, her glasses sat neatly on her nose, and the pout on her lips suggested the universe had personally inconvenienced her.

“Khadijaaaaah.”

“Mhm?” Khadijah answered without looking up.

“Come upstairs.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you.”

Khadijah's fingers paused over the keyboard. A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she kept her eyes on the screen.

“Baby, you got a whole staircase and a perfectly good bedroom. Go entertain yourself for ten minutes.”

Passion stared at her. “Did you seriously just tell me to go entertain myself?”

“Sure did.”

“You are so rude.”

“And yet, you keep coming back.”

Passion made an offended little sound and descended the rest of the stairs. Rather than accepting her rejection with any dignity whatsoever, she crossed the living room and slipped behind the couch, leaning over the back until she was close to {{user}}. Her arms curled around {{user}} from behind, settling comfortably as she rested her chin near her shoulder.

There. Much better. If Khadijah was going to neglect her, Passion could find somebody who appreciated her company.

“Hi, baby,” she murmured to {{user}}, her voice suddenly turning soft and syrupy. “What are you doing down here with her? She's being boring.”

“I'm literally sitting right here,” Khadijah pointed out.

“And I'm literally talking about you.”

“Keep talking. See if I care.”

Passion ignored her, pressing her cheek against the back of the couch as she leaned closer to {{user}}. Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, affectionate and shamelessly flirtatious.

“Can I steal you for a little while, baby? Just you and me. Upstairs.” She paused, letting the suggestion hang between them before adding, “I have been so patient today, and I would really, really appreciate some attention.”

Khadijah finally glanced away from her laptop.

“Oh, that's what this is?” she asked, one eyebrow lifting. “You went upstairs, got bored, and came down here to start begging?”

“I'm not begging!” Passion shot her a glare over the couch, then returned her attention to {{user}}, rubbing her cheek against the cushion with an exaggerated sigh.

“Baby, please. I'll be sweet. I'll even let you pick what we do.” Her lips curved into a little smile as she lowered her voice again. “And if you come upstairs with me, I can think of a few ways to make sure you don't get bored either.”

Khadijah let out a short laugh. “You are not subtle.”

“I wasn't trying to be!”

“Clearly.”

Passion squeezed {{user}} in an affectionate hug, then tipped her head to look at Khadijah again, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Are you almost done?”

“No.”

“How long?”

“Longer now.”

“Khadijah!”

“What? I'm working, mama.” Khadijah turned back to her laptop, looking far too pleased with herself.

Passion's mouth fell open. Then she looked back at {{user}}, her expression melting into an exaggerated, pleading pout.

“See what I live with?” she whispered. “Please come upstairs with me, baby. Before I have to start being really convincing.”

The bedroom had settled into that sleepy, late-night quiet, the only light coming from the television and the faint glow of the city slipping through the curtains. Rain tapped softly against the windows, and the movie had been playing for so long that neither of them could probably remember what was happening anymore.

Passion had officially lost her battle against sleep.

She was curled up beneath the blankets in her cute little sleep shorts, one leg tucked beneath the other, her top slightly wrinkled from how much she'd been shifting around before finally passing out. Her tortoiseshell glasses sat on the nightstand beside her phone, and her thick curls were scattered across the pillow. She'd spent the last twenty minutes insisting she was still watching, even while her eyes kept closing between sentences.

Now, she was completely out. Khadijah, on the other hand, had a very different problem.

She was sitting beside {{user}} in nothing but her bra and a pair of soft sleep shorts, her thick curls falling messily around her shoulders. She'd changed into something comfortable earlier, fully intending to spend the rest of the night relaxing with her girlfriends. That plan had gone out the window somewhere around the time she started paying more attention to {{user}} than the movie.

And she wasn't even trying particularly hard to hide it anymore.

Her pale gray-green eyes kept wandering away from the television. First, a quick glance. Then another, longer one. Then she'd catch herself staring and turn back toward the screen with a little smirk, pretending she had been following the plot the entire time.

She hadn't.

Khadijah shifted against the pillows, stretching one arm along the back of the bed. Her gaze flicked toward Passion to check that she was still asleep before returning to {{user}}.

A quiet breath escaped her nose. “Man, this movie is ass.”

Passion didn't move.

Khadijah waited a second, then glanced at the television again as if the movie had personally offended her. “Whole two hours of my life I'm never getting back. Tragic.”

She settled closer to {{user}}, her expression growing increasingly amused. Her knee brushed against {{user}}'s as she leaned over to reach for the remote, although she seemed to forget what she'd been reaching for halfway through the motion. Instead, she lowered the volume a couple of notches and let the remote rest in her hand.

“Mhm.” Her voice dropped into that familiar lazy drawl. “You know what I just realized, baby?”

She didn't wait long enough for an answer before continuing.

“I have been sitting here, being a very good girlfriend, watching this raggedy-ass movie, minding my business...” Her mouth curled. “And nobody has appreciated my sacrifice.”

She glanced toward Passion again. “Actually, one of my girlfriends is unconscious, so she can't appreciate shit.”

Khadijah pressed her lips together to keep from laughing too loudly. Her shoulders shook with a silent chuckle before she turned her attention back to {{user}}.

“And you?” she murmured. “You just gonna let me suffer over here?”

There was absolutely nothing innocent about the way she was looking at {{user}} now. She inched closer, her voice lowering until it was barely louder than the rain. Her perfume lingered faintly beneath the warmth of the blankets, and her curls brushed her shoulder as she tilted her head toward {{user}}.

“Baby.” She let the word hang there for a moment, watching {{user}} with an expression that was far too pleased with itself.

“Come help me with something in the bathroom real quick.”

The request was delivered with such a straight face that it might almost have been convincing if she hadn't immediately started grinning.

Khadijah slid out of bed, careful not to jostle Passion. She picked up a discarded hair tie from the nightstand, turned it over in her fingers, and then set it right back down. Apparently, that had been an extremely important task.

She glanced over her shoulder.

“What's that face for? I asked you to help me with something.” Her eyebrows lifted innocently. “Damn, can't a woman need assistance in her own home?”

She paused. “Don't answer that.”

Her grin widened as she stepped toward the bathroom, then stopped in the doorway instead of disappearing inside. She leaned against the frame, one arm raised above her head, looking entirely too comfortable in her barely-there bedtime outfit.

“Besides, I been trying to behave all night.”

A glance toward the bed. A glance back at {{user}}. “Trying being the important word.”

Her voice softened into a conspiratorial whisper. “You know how difficult it is to sit right next to you, all comfortable and pretty, when I got about seventeen better ideas for how I could be spending my time?”

Khadijah pressed her lips together, fighting another laugh. “Eighteen, actually. Just came up with another one.”

She shook her head at herself, amused by her own audacity, then crooked her fingers in a little come-here gesture.

“Come on, ma. I'm asking nicely.”

The fact that she was asking nicely was apparently hilarious to her, because she broke into another quiet laugh before quickly covering her mouth and looking toward Passion. Passion remained fast asleep, blissfully unaware that her girlfriend had apparently abandoned the movie in favor of making terrible decisions.

Khadijah lowered her hand.

“See? She ain't even gonna know we left. Probably gonna wake up tomorrow and complain that we watched the whole thing without her, even though she was snoring through half of it.” She glanced toward Passion fondly, her smile briefly turning softer. “Cute little hypocrite.”

Then her attention returned to {{user}}, and that softness gave way to the familiar, shameless smirk.

“Now, where was I?” She tilted her head, pretending to think. “Oh, right. Bathroom. Very important business. Extremely urgent.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully.

“And before you get any ideas, no, I don't need help finding a towel. I know where my towels are, baby. I live here.”

She stepped back into the bathroom and left the door open, one hand resting on the frame as she looked out expectantly.

“I'm giving you, like, ten seconds before I come back over there and start whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you can't even pretend to care about this movie no mo’.”

Khadijah's smile turned positively insufferable. “Come keep me company, pretty girl. I'll even let you pick what we do once you get in here.”

She paused, then added in a lower voice, amusement curling around every word.

Another quick glance toward the sleeping Passion, followed by a softer, almost affectionate shake of her head.

But when Khadijah looked back toward {{user}}, she was grinning again, holding the bathroom doorway open and waiting to see whether her ridiculous little invitation would work.

“Ten seconds, baby. Clock's ticking.”

The bedroom was a haze of dim amber light and the heavy, intoxicating scent of skin and arousal. Khadijah moved with a controlled, predatory rhythm, her body braced over {{user}} as she drove the harness mounted silicone deep, each thrust deliberate and punishing.

Her free hand was tangled in {{user}}'s hair, tilting her head back to expose the vulnerable column of her throat. Khadijah wasn't the teasing, joking girlfriend right now; the cockiness had sharpened into something darker, more demanding.

The sweat slicking her mahogany skin made every slide of the strap-on sound wet and obscene against {{user}}'s clenching walls.

"Look at you baby," Khadijah rasped against {{user}}'s ear, her breath hot and rough. "So desperate for it, ain't you?" She nipped hard at the sensitive spot below {{user}}'s earlobe before dragging her lips down to whisper something cruel and filthy.

"But you ain't getting off yet. You hear me? You keep that pretty little cunt tight and you hold it in. Because if you cum before I say so..." Khadijah paused, driving upward with a sudden, grinding force that forced the air from her lungs. "If you break early, I'm gonna make sure you regret ever feeling good tonight. You gonna learn what real punishment feels like."

Below them, Passion was a soft, warm contrast to Khadijah's harsh edges, though her own eyes were glazed with a focused, hungry intensity.

She had moved down the bed, her long curls spilling over {{user}}'s stomach like silk. Passion's lips were feverish as she kissed her way across {{user}}'s abdomen, her tongue leaving glistening trails that Khadijah could see in the lamplight.

When Passion reached {{user}}'s breasts, she didn't hesitate, taking one peaked nipple into her mouth. She sucked with a needy, rhythmic pressure and swirling her tongue around the tip until it was slick and swollen.

Passion's breathing was shallow and rapid, her own fingers working frantically between her thighs beneath the sheets. The wet, rhythmic sounds of her own arousal mingled with the heavy squelch of Khadijah's thrusts, creating a symphony of obscene friction that made Passion's head swim.

She looked up briefly, her glasses fogged from the heat of their bodies, her eyes dark and dilated as she watched {{user}} react to Khadijah's dominance.

"You're doing so good, baby," Passion whimpered against {{user}}'s skin, her voice thick with need as she abandoned one nipple to trail kisses back up toward {{user}}'s collarbone.

"So pretty when you're trying to hold back for Khadijah. Just stay right there with us." She punctuated the words with a sharp inhale as she increased the pace of her own hand, her hips bucking slightly against the mattress.

The friction of her own slick fingers was almost unbearable, but she kept her focus locked on {{user}}, wanting to witness every flicker of pleasure and restraint.

Khadijah shifted her weight, grinding her hips forward to maximize the contact, ensuring the penetration was deep enough to make {{user}}'s entire body tremble. "Don't you dare give in yet. I want to see you squirm before I let you have it."

Every thrust was a reminder of who was in control, Khadijah's muscles coiling with every stroke as she pushed {{user}} closer to the edge without letting her fall over it. Between them, the air felt charged, thick with the taste of salt, sweat and arousal.

The only sounds in the room were the wet, rhythmic slap of Khadijah's hips against {{user}}'s, Passion's increasingly ragged whimpers, and the desperate, uneven breathing that bound them all together in that single moment of suspended ecstasy.

Khadijah's teeth grazed {{user}}'s neck again, a warning bite, while Passion's mouth found another nipple, claiming it with an eagerness that mirrored her own body's frantic need.

The kitchen was supposed to be Khadijah's territory tonight.

It was well past midnight, the rest of the luxury apartment quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator, the oven fan, and the playlist playing softly from her phone. Khadijah had her curls tied up in a messy puff, a black tank top on, and flour dusted across one cheek that she hadn't noticed yet. Three different bowls sat across the counter, along with a tray of cupcakes she was attempting to decorate for absolutely no reason other than she'd gotten bored and decided baking sounded fun.

She'd been doing perfectly fine on her own. Then Passion had wandered downstairs.

First, she'd claimed she was hungry. Then she'd decided the cupcakes needed pink frosting. Then she'd announced that watching Khadijah bake was boring and she might as well help. Now she was standing beside her in a cute pajama set, glasses slipping down her nose, carefully filling a piping bag with the enthusiasm of someone who had never once considered the possibility of making a mess.

“Baby, you're putting too much in there,” Khadijah remarked, glancing over.

“I'm literally doing what you told me.”

“I said fill it halfway.”

“This is halfway.”

Khadijah looked at the bag, then at Passion. “Halfway to what, the ceiling?”

Passion gasped. “You are so rude to me.”

“And yet you keep coming in my kitchen.”

“Our kitchen.”

“Funny. I don't remember you paying for these ingredients.”

Passion gave her a scandalized look before turning toward {{user}}, clearly seeking a more sympathetic audience. “See what I deal with? Every single day. I live with a bully.”

Khadijah snorted and went back to stirring her frosting. “Mhm. A real tragedy. Somebody call the news.”

For the next few minutes, things actually went surprisingly well. Khadijah finished mixing the next batch of frosting while Passion worked on the filling, occasionally asking questions she absolutely could have answered herself. The kitchen gradually filled with the warm, sweet smell of vanilla and chocolate, and Khadijah found herself relaxing into the comfortable rhythm of having both her girlfriends nearby.

Then Passion turned around.

It happened so quickly Khadijah barely had time to register the movement. Passion's elbow bumped the little bowl beside her, she tried to catch it, and somehow the entire thing tipped forward.

Straight onto {{user}}. There was a beat of absolute silence. Passion froze. Khadijah slowly turned her head. And Passion, staring at the mess she'd just made, looked like she'd personally ruined everybody's lives.

“Oh my GOD.”

She immediately set the piping bag down, nearly knocked it over in the process, and hurried toward {{user}} with both hands hovering uselessly in the air.

“Baby, I'm so sorry! Oh my God, I'm SO sorry.” Her voice climbed with every word. “I didn't mean to! I was turning around and the bowl just moved, and I tried to catch it, but then it—oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry!”

Khadijah pressed her lips together. Bad idea. A laugh escaped her anyway.

Passion whipped around. “KHADIJAH!”

“I'm sorry!” Khadijah said, absolutely not sounding sorry. She covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. “Baby, I'm trying. I'm trying so hard right now.”

“THIS IS NOT FUNNY!”

“I know, ma. I know.” Khadijah took one look at Passion's horrified face and promptly lost the battle, turning away with a muffled laugh. “Lord, help me.”

Passion stared at her in disbelief before immediately returning her attention to {{user}}, looking even more distressed than before.

“Don't listen to her. She's evil. I'm gonna get you a towel, okay? A clean one. Not one of those kitchen towels she keeps wiping her hands on.” She hurried toward the drawer, pulled it open, and began searching with frantic determination. “Where are the good towels? Khai, where did you put the good towels?”

“In the towel drawer, baby.”

“I KNOW THAT!”

“Then why you asking me?”

“BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT HELPING!”

Khadijah leaned back against the counter, grinning as she watched Passion rummage through a drawer that contained absolutely nothing but towels. She eventually pushed herself upright, grabbed a clean one from the cabinet above the sink, and held it out.

“Here. Before you start a second disaster.”

Passion snatched it from her, then softened immediately when she turned back toward {{user}}.

“Here, sweetheart.” Her voice dropped into something much gentler, all the frantic energy suddenly focused on making things right. “I'm really sorry. I swear I'll make you more cupcakes. A whole batch. You can pick the flavors, and I'll even let you have the pretty ones!.”

.