Continuation – The Netball Team Arrives (Part 1)
The minibus pulled up outside the hotel just after eight. Fifteen women spilled out into the cool morning air, laughing, stretching, dragging kit bags and small suitcases. The Northbridge College netball squad—twelve players, two coaches, and three family members who had come along for the regional tournament weekend.
They pushed through the main doors in a cheerful, chattering cluster and stopped in the lobby.
The air inside was warm. Too warm. And it carried something none of them could name.
It wasn’t the usual hotel smell of polish and coffee. It was richer. Sweeter. Like skin after sex, like the inside of a thigh, like something edible and forbidden. It slid into their lungs the moment they crossed the threshold and settled low in their bellies.
No one mentioned it at first. They just stood a little closer together than usual while the head coach, Diane (forty-four, tall, still athletic, dark hair in a practical ponytail), walked up to the empty reception desk and rang the bell.
No one came.
They waited.
And the scent kept working.
Jess – captain, twenty-one, tall shooter, long legs, usually all business
Inner monologue: "Why does it suddenly feel like my kit shorts are too tight? I can feel the seam pressing against my cunt and it’s making me wet. That’s… new. I never get wet just standing around. Christ, look at Mia’s arse in those leggings. I’ve seen it a thousand times in the changing room but right now I want to drop to my knees, peel them down and bury my face between her cheeks. I want to taste her. I want her to sit on my face while the whole team watches. What the fuck is wrong with me?"
Jess shifted her weight, thighs pressing together. A slow throb had started behind her clit. She glanced at her vice-captain, Mia, and had to look away when the image of Mia’s bare cunt—pink, shaved, dripping—flashed unbidden across her mind.
Mia – vice-captain, twenty, curvy wing attack, close friends with Jess
Inner monologue: "The air in here is doing something to me. My nipples are so hard they hurt and I keep thinking about Jess’s mouth. We’ve shared rooms for three seasons and I’ve never once let myself imagine her licking me… until right now. I can almost feel her tongue. Long, slow strokes right through my slit, then two fingers curling inside while she sucks my clit. I want to push her up against that pillar and grind on her thigh until I come in my shorts. I want the coaches to catch us and instead of stopping us they join in. Fuck, I’m soaked."
Mia’s hand drifted to the hem of her hoodie, fingers brushing the waistband of her leggings. She caught herself and folded her arms, but the pressure of her own forearms against her breasts only made it worse.
Coach Diane
Inner monologue: "I am a professional. I am responsible for these girls. So why am I standing at an empty reception desk imagining every single one of them naked and on their knees? That new first-year, Paige… I want to spread her open on the counter and eat her until she screams. I want my assistant coach Lauren’s fingers inside me while I do it. I can feel how wet I am. My knickers are sticking to me. This is insane. I’ve never once crossed a line with a player and suddenly I’m thinking about lining them all up and making them take turns sitting on my face. The scent in this place is… wrong. Or perfect. I can’t tell which."
Diane rang the bell again, harder. Her voice, when she called “Hello? Anyone working today?” came out lower and rougher than she intended.
Lauren – assistant coach, thirty-one, sharp, usually the strict one
Inner monologue: "Diane’s arse looks unreal in those jeans. I’ve noticed before, obviously, but right now I want to bite it. I want to push her forward over the desk, yank everything down and tongue her until she’s dripping down my chin. Then I want the whole squad to watch while I fuck her with my fingers and make her thank me. And the girls… god, the girls. I can smell how turned on some of them already are. Or maybe I’m just projecting. No. Look at the way Jess keeps squeezing her thighs. She’s thinking filthy things. I want to know exactly what. I want her to tell me while I sit on her face."
Lauren’s pulse was high in her throat. She could feel her own wetness starting to slick the inside of her thighs with every small shift of her stance.
Paige – first-year, nineteen, quiet, new to the starting seven
Inner monologue: "Everyone smells so good. Not perfume. Skin. Cunt. I shouldn’t even know what that smells like but I do now. I keep staring at Coach Lauren’s mouth and imagining it on me. I’ve never been with a woman. I’ve barely been with anyone. But right now I want her to push me against the wall, pull my shorts aside and just use me. I want the older girls to hold me open for her. I want Jess to make me lick Mia while the coaches watch and touch themselves. My face is burning. My knickers are ruined. Why isn’t anyone coming to check us in? I need… I need something. I need them."
Paige’s fingers were clenched tight around the strap of her bag. She was breathing through her mouth and every breath made the heat between her legs worse.
Mrs Eleanor Croft – mother of one of the wing defences, forty-seven, elegant, had only come to support
Inner monologue: "I am a married woman. I have a husband at home. So why am I looking at my own daughter’s teammates and wondering how their cunts taste? That tall captain… Jess. I want her young mouth on my breasts. I want to sit on her face in front of everyone and make her drink me while the coaches take turns with my daughter. Christ. I’ve never had a thought like that in my life. The air in this lobby is thick with sex and I can feel it changing the way I think. My knickers are wet. I’m standing in a hotel reception getting wet for a group of college girls and their coaches and I don’t want it to stop."
Eleanor crossed her arms tightly under her breasts, which only made her nipples more obvious against her blouse.
The group as a whole
They stood in a loose cluster near the empty desk, bags at their feet, the silence stretching. No one had said anything about the scent yet. No one had admitted the sudden, crushing wave of arousal. But every woman could feel it in the others—the flushed cheeks, the restless shifting, the way eyes kept dropping to mouths, breasts, the juncture of thighs.
Jess’s internal voice had gone completely filthy: I want to order them all to strip right here. I want Mia to sit on my face while Coach Diane sits on Mia’s face. I want the mothers on their knees licking us. I want to come so many times I forget my own name.
Mia was imagining the entire team in one big tangled sixty-nine on the lobby floor.
Diane was fighting—and losing—the urge to turn around and kiss Lauren in front of everyone.
Paige was one deep breath away from moaning out loud.
Eleanor was wetter than she had been in years and the object of every new fantasy was standing less than two metres away.
The scent kept pouring gently from the staff corridors and the canteen beyond. No one had seen a single naked body yet. No one had witnessed the nest or the converted day staff still fucking and feeding just out of sight.
They didn’t need to.
The air alone was enough.
Jess finally spoke, voice a little too husky.
“Is it just me or is it really warm in here?”
A ripple of nervous, breathy laughter moved through the group. No one answered properly. They just kept standing there, waiting, thighs pressed together, minds filling with increasingly explicit images of each other—cunts, tongues, fingers, milk-wet breasts, the wet sounds they imagined they would make—while the empty reception desk stayed empty and the hotel continued to breathe its slow, addictive welcome into their lungs.
They were already starting to fall.
And they hadn’t even been shown a room yet.
Continuation – The Netball Team Arrives (Part 2)
The reception bell went unanswered again. Somewhere deeper in the hotel a door closed softly, but no one appeared. The fifteen women remained clustered in the lobby, bags at their feet, the thick sweet scent working deeper into them with every breath.
No one had touched anyone yet. No one had seen a single naked body. The only thing happening was the air… and the thoughts it kept feeding them.
Jess – captain
Inner monologue: "I can feel how wet I am. My shorts are sticking to me. Every time I shift my weight the seam drags across my clit and I have to bite the inside of my cheek. Mia keeps glancing at me and I swear she knows. I want to grab her hand, drag her behind the pillar and push her leggings down just far enough to get my mouth on her. I want to lick her open right here while the whole squad watches. I want Coach Diane to catch us and instead of shouting she just says “good girl” and makes the rest of them form a line. Fuck. I’m throbbing. I need to come. I need someone else’s mouth on me so badly it’s starting to hurt."
Jess’s fingers flexed around the strap of her kit bag. She could smell her own arousal now, mixing with the hotel’s scent, and the thought that the others might be able to smell it too only made her wetter.
Mia
Inner monologue: "Jess’s thighs are flexing. She’s soaked. I know that look. I’ve seen her after hard training when she’s all flushed and shiny, but this is different. This is pure cunt-hunger. I keep imagining dropping to my knees in front of her, peeling those shorts down and burying my face between her legs in front of everyone. I want the coaches to make me do it. I want Coach Lauren’s hand on the back of my head holding me there while Jess grinds on my tongue. I want Paige to watch and get so desperate she starts touching herself. My nipples are so hard they ache every time my hoodie brushes them. I want someone’s mouth on them. I want Jess’s mouth on them while I sit on Coach Diane’s face. Jesus Christ what is this place doing to me?"
Mia pressed her thighs together hard enough that a tiny, involuntary sound almost escaped. She swallowed it and stared fixedly at the empty desk.
Coach Diane
Inner monologue: "I am responsible for these girls. I am their coach. I should be demanding a manager, not standing here with my knickers soaked through imagining lining the entire squad up against the reception desk and eating them one by one. Paige first—she looks the most overwhelmed. I’d spread her open and lick her until she cried. Then Mia. Then Jess. I’d make Lauren hold them open for me. I’d make the mothers watch. I’d make the mothers join in. My cunt is pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I can feel how swollen I am. If someone so much as brushed against me right now I think I’d come. This is dangerous. This is the most turned on I have been in years and I haven’t even been touched."
Diane’s hand rested on the reception counter. Her knuckles were white. She could feel Lauren standing close behind her, close enough that the heat of her body was another kind of torment.
Lauren – assistant coach
Inner monologue: "Diane’s neck looks so biteable. The little hairs at her nape are damp. I want to step in behind her, slide my hand straight down the front of her jeans and finger her right here in front of the team. I want her to have to keep a straight face while I curl two fingers inside her and rub her clit with my thumb. I want the girls to see their head coach’s knees buckle. I want Jess to get so desperate watching that she drops to her knees and begs to lick my fingers clean afterwards. My own cunt is a mess. I can feel wetness on my inner thighs. Every breath of this air makes me think filthier things. I want the whole squad naked and dripping and calling me Coach while they take turns sitting on my face."
Lauren shifted her stance and the movement made her clit throb. She kept her arms folded tightly so no one would see her hands shaking.
Paige – first-year
Inner monologue: "I’ve never wanted anyone this badly in my life and I want all of them at once. Coach Lauren’s mouth. Jess’s long legs wrapped around my head. Mia’s breasts in my hands. Coach Diane telling me what a good girl I am while she uses me. Mrs Croft watching with that hungry look she’s trying to hide. I keep clenching around nothing. My knickers are so wet they’re uncomfortable. I want someone to notice. I want someone to push me against the wall, pull my shorts aside and just take me. I’ve never been with a woman and right now I want every woman in this lobby. I want them to pass me around. I want to taste all of them. I think I’m going to moan out loud if someone doesn’t check us in soon."
Paige’s breathing had gone shallow. A flush spread down her neck and under the collar of her top. She kept her eyes on the floor because every time she looked up she started fantasising about whoever she saw.
Eleanor Croft – mother
Inner monologue: "I should be horrified at myself. I am standing in a hotel lobby getting wet for my daughter’s teammates and coaches. I keep staring at Jess’s mouth and imagining it on my cunt. I keep looking at Coach Diane’s hands and wanting them inside me. I can feel how slick I am. If I moved wrong everyone would see the state of me. I want the young ones to watch while the coaches take me. I want my own daughter’s friends to hold me open. I have never had thoughts like this. Never. And I don’t want them to stop. The air in here is turning me into something else and the scariest part is how much I already like it."
Eleanor’s elegant composure was cracking. She kept adjusting her blouse, which only drew attention to how hard her nipples were.
The rest of the squad – a shared undercurrent
Similar thoughts rippled through the other players and the two remaining family members. The wing defence whose mother was Eleanor kept glancing at Jess and imagining the captain’s fingers inside her. One of the centres was fighting the urge to press up behind Mia and grind against her arse. The older family friend who had come along “for support” was wetter than she had been in a decade and couldn’t stop staring at Lauren’s mouth.
No one spoke about it.
They just stood there in the scented lobby, bags forgotten, the silence stretching, every woman locked inside increasingly explicit fantasies about the others. Cunts throbbing. Nipples aching. Knickers ruined. Minds filling with images of tongues and fingers and open thighs and the wet sounds they would make if any one of them finally broke and reached out.
Jess’s voice, when it came again, was rough.
“Maybe we should… look for someone. Staff entrance or something.”
No one moved immediately.
Because moving would mean walking, and walking would mean thighs rubbing, and thighs rubbing might be enough to make someone moan.
The scent kept pouring gently from the unseen corridors.
They still hadn’t seen a single erotic thing.
They didn’t need to.
Their own minds—fed by the air—were doing all the work.
And every minute they stood there waiting, the thoughts grew filthier, the ache deeper, the line between “teammate” and “someone I need to taste” thinner.
They were falling in plain sight.
And the hotel had not even begun to show them what waited beyond reception.
Continuation – The Netball Team Arrives (Part 3)
The lobby stayed empty. The reception bell sat untouched. Somewhere deeper in the building a faint, wet sound drifted and then faded, but no staff appeared. The fifteen women remained standing in their loose cluster, the thick sweet scent pouring steadily into their lungs, and the silence between them grew heavier with every passing minute.
No one had moved. No one had touched. The only thing happening was inside their heads.
Jess – captain
Inner monologue: "I can feel my heartbeat in my clit. Every single pulse. My shorts are glued to me now. If I spread my legs even a little I swear everyone would see how wet I am. I keep looking at Mia’s mouth and imagining it stretched around my cunt. I want to grab her by the hair, push her to her knees right here on the lobby carpet and make her lick me while Coach Diane watches. I want Diane to get so turned on she starts fingering herself through her jeans. I want Lauren to force Paige’s face between my arse cheeks while Mia eats me. I want the mothers on their knees cleaning up whatever drips down my thighs. Fuck. I’m going to leave a wet patch on the floor if we stand here much longer. Why isn’t anyone coming? I need a mouth on me. I need it so badly I’m starting to shake."
Jess’s knuckles were white around her bag strap. A slow, treacherous trickle of wetness had begun to slide down the inside of one thigh.
Mia
Inner monologue: "Jess smells like sex. I don’t know how I know that but I do. I can smell how wet she is and it’s making my mouth water. I want to drop right now. I want to crawl the two steps between us, yank her shorts and knickers down in one pull and bury my tongue as deep inside her as it will go. I want the whole team to hear how wet she is. I want Coach Lauren to kneel behind me, pull my leggings down and start fingering my arse while I eat Jess. I want Diane to sit on Jess’s face at the same time so we’re all connected. My cunt is throbbing so hard it hurts. I’ve never needed to come this badly in my life and no one has even touched me. This hotel is rewriting every thought I have and I don’t want it to stop."
Mia’s breathing had gone audible. She kept swallowing, as if trying to clear the taste of something she hadn’t even sampled yet.
Coach Diane
Inner monologue: "I am one decision away from doing something unprofessional that I will never be able to take back. Lauren is standing so close I can feel the heat coming off her. If I turned around right now I could kiss her. I could push my hand straight down the front of her trousers and feel how wet she is. I already know she’s soaked. I can smell it. I can smell all of them. Fifteen cunts getting wetter by the minute and every single one of them is starting to smell like they need to be eaten. I want to line the squad up against that wall, pull every pair of shorts and leggings down and go along the row with my tongue. I want Lauren holding them open for me. I want the mothers forced to watch and then forced to join. My own knickers are a lost cause. If I clenched any harder I’d come standing up. This is insane. This is the hottest I have ever been and we are still just waiting to check in."
Diane’s thighs were pressed so tightly together that a fine tremor had started in her legs.
Lauren – assistant coach
Inner monologue: "Diane’s control is cracking. I can see it in the way her jaw keeps flexing. I want to be the one who breaks it. I want to step in behind her, slide both hands around and straight into her jeans, two fingers in her cunt and my thumb on her clit, and make her come in front of the entire team. I want them all to watch their head coach fall apart on my hand. Then I want Jess on her knees licking me clean while Mia sits on Diane’s face. I want Paige’s tongue in my arse while I finger the mothers. My cunt is so swollen I can feel my pulse in it. Every breath of this air is another filthy image. I’m going to leave a wet mark on the floor if I move. I need to fuck someone. I need to be fucked. I need this whole lobby to turn into a pile of wet, moaning women and I need it now."
Lauren’s folded arms were the only thing stopping her from reaching out.
Paige – first-year
Inner monologue: "I’m going to moan. I can feel it building in my throat. If someone doesn’t check us in, in the next thirty seconds I’m going to make a sound and everyone will know. My knickers are so wet they’re cold against me now. I keep clenching and it only makes the ache worse. I want Coach Lauren to notice. I want her to walk over, push me against the pillar, pull my shorts aside and push three fingers straight into me while the whole team watches. I want Jess to make me lick Mia’s cunt as punishment for being so obvious. I want Diane to tell me I’m a good girl while she sits on my face. I’ve never tasted a woman and right now I feel like I’ll die if I don’t taste all of them. My face is burning. My nipples are so hard they hurt every time I breathe. Please. Someone. Anyone. Touch me."
Paige’s free hand had drifted to the hem of her top and was gripping it so tightly her fingers had gone white.
Eleanor Croft – mother
Inner monologue: "I can smell my own daughter’s teammates getting wet and it is doing something irreversible to me. I keep staring at Jess’s long legs and imagining them wrapped around my head. I keep looking at Coach Diane’s mouth and wanting it on my breasts, on my cunt, everywhere. I am a forty-seven-year-old married woman standing in a hotel lobby soaked through my knickers because the air smells like sex and every young woman around me is starting to look edible. I want the coaches to make the girls hold me open. I want to be used in front of them. I want to taste Jess while Lauren fingers me and Diane watches. I have never been this wet in my life. I can feel it on my thighs. If I don’t get a tongue on me soon I think I might actually beg, and the most terrifying part is that I already know I won’t be ashamed when I do."
Eleanor’s elegant posture had begun to soften. Her lips were slightly parted. Her eyes kept dropping to mouths and the place where thighs met.
Shared undercurrent – the rest of the group
Similar monologues burned through the other players and the remaining family members. One of the centres kept imagining the entire squad in a daisy-chain of mouths on the lobby floor. The wing defence whose mother was Eleanor was fighting the urge to turn and kiss her own mother full on the mouth. The older family friend had her thighs locked so tightly she was almost shaking, mind full of images of Lauren’s fingers and Diane’s tongue and the wet sounds the college girls would make if any one of them finally snapped.
Jess’s voice broke the silence again, lower this time, almost rough.
“Has anyone else… noticed the smell?”
A long pause.
Mia answered first, barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
Then Lauren, even quieter:
“Yes.”
Then Diane, after a heavy second:
“…Yes.”
No one said what the smell was doing to them. They didn’t have to. The flushed faces, the restless shifting, the way every pair of eyes kept dropping to someone else’s mouth or breasts or the tight line of shorts and leggings said everything.
They were all thinking the same explicit, aching things about each other.
They were all soaked.
They were all one soft word or accidental brush of skin away from something that could never be taken back.
And still no one came to the desk.
The hotel simply let them stand there, breathing, throbbing, falling further into their own filthy thoughts with every slow minute that passed.
The scent kept working.
And the netball team—players, coaches, and family alike—kept standing in the lobby, waiting, while their minds filled with tongues and cunts and the wet, desperate sounds they were all starting to need.
Continuation – The Netball Team Arrives (Part 4)
The silence in the lobby had become almost physical. Fifteen women stood in a loose, restless cluster, bags forgotten at their feet, the thick sweet scent pouring steadily into every breath. No staff. No keys. No interruption. Only the air, and the thoughts it kept feeding them.
No one had touched. No one had stripped. The only thing happening was inside their heads—and it was getting worse.
Jess – captain
Inner monologue: "I’m dripping. I can feel it sliding down my thigh now, slow and warm, and the thought that someone might notice is making me even wetter. Mia keeps looking at my mouth. I want to walk the two steps between us, grab her by the back of the neck and push her face straight into my cunt right here on the carpet. I want the whole squad to hear how soaked I am when her tongue first goes in. I want Coach Diane to get so desperate watching that she starts rubbing herself through her jeans. I want Lauren to force Paige onto her back underneath us so I can sit on Paige’s face while Mia eats me. I want the mothers on their knees licking whatever runs down. My clit is throbbing so hard it feels swollen. If someone so much as breathed on it I think I’d come. Why won’t anyone come to the desk? I need a tongue. I need fingers. I need to be used in front of all of them."
Jess’s breathing had gone shallow. A visible flush spread down her neck. She kept shifting her weight, and every small movement dragged the wet seam of her shorts across her clit.
Mia
Inner monologue: "I can smell Jess. Not just the hotel—her. Hot, wet cunt. It’s making my mouth water so much I have to keep swallowing. I want to drop to my knees right now. I want to peel those shorts down, spread her open with both hands and push my tongue as deep as it will go while the coaches watch. I want Diane’s hand on the back of my head holding me there. I want Lauren fingering my arse while I eat Jess. I want Paige licking my cunt from behind so we’re all connected. My nipples are so hard they hurt every time my hoodie moves. My leggings are ruined. I can feel how swollen I am. I’ve never needed to come this badly and no one has even touched me. This place is turning every teammate into something I need to taste and I don’t want it to stop."
Mia’s thighs were pressed so tightly together a fine tremor had started. Her lips were parted. She kept staring at Jess’s mouth like she was already imagining it on her.
Coach Diane
Inner monologue: "I am going to break. I can feel it. Lauren is standing close enough that I can smell how wet she is and it’s destroying me. I want to turn around, shove my hand straight down the front of her trousers and finger her in front of the entire squad. I want them all to watch their head coach come on my hand. Then I want Jess on her knees licking me clean while Mia sits on Lauren’s face. I want Paige spread open on the reception desk so I can eat her while the mothers are forced to watch and then forced to join. My knickers are soaked through. I can feel wetness on my inner thighs. Every breath of this air is another image of tongues and open cunts and the wet sounds these girls would make if I just gave the order. I am responsible for them. I am also one soft word away from lining them all up and using every single one."
Diane’s hand was still locked on the edge of the reception counter. Her knuckles were white. A slow pulse throbbed visibly in her throat.
Lauren – assistant coach
Inner monologue: "Diane’s control is hanging by a thread and I want to be the one who snaps it. I want to step in behind her, slide both hands around, push two fingers straight into her cunt and my thumb onto her clit, and make her come standing up in front of the team. I want Jess forced to her knees to lick my fingers clean afterwards. I want Mia sitting on Diane’s face while I finger Paige. I want the mothers on their backs with their legs spread so the whole squad can take turns. My own cunt is so swollen and slick I can feel it every time I shift. The air in this lobby is pure sex and it’s rewriting every professional boundary I have. I need to fuck. I need to be fucked. I need this entire group naked and dripping and moaning and I need it now."
Lauren’s folded arms were rigid. Her breathing matched Diane’s—shallow, controlled, and failing.
Paige – first-year
Inner monologue: "I’m going to make a sound. I can feel it building. My knickers are so wet they’re cold and sticky and every tiny movement makes my clit throb. I want Coach Lauren to notice. I want her to walk over, push me against the pillar, yank my shorts aside and push three fingers into me while everyone watches. I want Jess to make me lick Mia as punishment for being so obvious. I want Diane to sit on my face and tell me I’m a good girl while she grinds on my tongue. I’ve never tasted a woman and right now I feel like I’ll die if I don’t taste all of them. My face is burning. My nipples hurt. Please. Someone look at me. Someone touch me. Someone use me."
Paige’s free hand had moved to the top of her thigh and was gripping hard enough to leave marks. Her eyes kept flicking from mouth to mouth.
Eleanor Croft – mother
Inner monologue: "I can smell how wet these college girls are and it is destroying every decent thought I have left. I keep staring at Jess’s long legs and imagining them locked around my head. I keep looking at Diane’s mouth and wanting it on my cunt. I am soaked. I can feel it on my thighs. If I moved wrong everyone would see the state of me and the most terrifying part is that I want them to see. I want the coaches to make the girls hold me open. I want to be licked and fingered and used in front of my own daughter’s teammates. I have never been this desperate in my life. The air in this hotel is turning me into something hungry and shameless and I can already feel myself stopping caring."
Eleanor’s elegant composure had almost completely cracked. Her lips were parted. Her breathing was audible.
Shared undercurrent
The same filthy monologue burned through the rest of the squad and the remaining family members. One centre kept imagining a full daisy-chain on the lobby floor. The wing defence whose mother was Eleanor was fighting the urge to turn and kiss her. The older family friend had her thighs locked so tightly she was trembling, mind full of Lauren’s fingers and Diane’s tongue and the wet, helpless sounds the younger women would make.
Jess finally spoke again, voice low and rough, almost unsteady.
“Has anyone else… started thinking things they shouldn’t?”
The silence that followed was thick enough to touch.
Mia answered first, barely a whisper.
“Yes.”
Lauren, after a beat:
“Yes.”
Diane’s voice came out lower than she intended.
“…Yes.”
Paige made a tiny, helpless sound that was almost a moan.
Eleanor closed her eyes and whispered, “God help me… yes.”
No one laughed. No one looked away. They just stood there in the scented lobby, fifteen women, all of them soaked, all of them throbbing, all of them locked inside explicit fantasies about the others—tongues, cunts, fingers, open thighs, the wet sounds they would make if any single one of them finally reached out.
They still hadn’t seen a naked body.
They still hadn’t been touched.
The hotel didn’t need them to be.
The air alone was enough.
And every minute they remained standing there waiting, the thoughts grew filthier, the ache deeper, and the last thin line between “teammate / coach / mother” and “someone I need to taste right now” grew thinner.
They were falling in plain sight.
And the reception desk stayed empty.
Continuation – The Netball Team Arrives (Part 5)
The reception bell finally got an answer.
Three figures emerged from the staff corridor as if they had been waiting for exactly the right moment of collective desperation. Helen first—robe loosely belted, the silk doing almost nothing to hide the full, milk-heavy sway of her breasts or the faint shiny streaks still drying on her inner thighs. Mandy beside her, red hair loose, wearing only an open staff shirt that framed bare cunt and the wet gleam between her legs. Sophie brought up the rear, fair hair tousled, completely naked except for a small silver tray balanced in her hands. On the tray sat a cluster of tall glasses filled with warm, opaque white liquid that smelled even richer than the air already flooding the lobby.
They took one look at the fifteen flushed, restless, thigh-pressed women and smiled like cats who had found an unlocked dairy.
Helen’s eyes moved slowly over Jess’s locked stance, Mia’s parted lips, Diane’s white-knuckled grip on the counter, Lauren’s rigid arms, Paige’s trembling hand on her own thigh, Eleanor’s ruined composure. She inhaled once, delicately, and the smile deepened.
“Well,” Helen said, voice low and warm and thick with knowing. “Look at all of you. Standing there so politely… and absolutely dripping for it.”
Mandy laughed softly. “We could smell the tension from the canteen. All those hungry little minds racing. Captains imagining teammates on their knees. Coaches thinking about lining the squad up and eating every single one. Mothers getting wet for girls young enough to be their daughters. Delicious.”
Sophie set the tray on the reception desk with a soft clink. The glasses steamed faintly. The scent of the “milk” rolled out—thicker, sweeter, more concentrated than the air itself.
Helen leaned a hip against the desk, robe falling further open.
“Welcome to the hotel. We’re under new management. Very… hands-on management. We pride ourselves on full service. Deep, thorough, all-inclusive service. You’ll find we take care of every need. No request too filthy. No appetite left unsatisfied. We like our guests to leave… completely spent. Or better yet—not leave at all.”
Mandy’s gaze lingered on Jess’s long legs, then on Mia’s mouth.
“Rooms are ready whenever you are. Big beds. Connecting doors. Plenty of space to spread out… or pile up. We encourage group activities. Team bonding. Very close team bonding. You’ll be surprised how quickly strangers—or teammates—start tasting each other once the air gets into them.”
Sophie lifted one of the glasses and held it out.
“Complimentary welcome drink. Special milk. House recipe. It helps with the… transition. Smooths everything out. Makes the hunger sit deeper. Makes the first taste of each other feel inevitable. Drink up, girls. Coaches too. Family. Everyone.”
They drank.
Jess first—throat working, eyes fluttering as the warm, thick, addictive liquid coated her tongue and slid down. Mia immediately after, a soft sound escaping her as she swallowed. Diane hesitated half a second, then knocked hers back like a woman accepting a dare she already knew she would lose. Lauren, Paige, Eleanor, the entire squad and the remaining family members—every glass emptied within thirty seconds. The milk hit like a second, concentrated wave of the scent, only stronger, wetter, more direct.
For one long heartbeat nothing happened.
Then the lobby simply… broke.
Jess turned, grabbed Mia by the back of the neck, and crushed their mouths together in a deep, filthy kiss that was all tongue and need. Mia moaned into it, hands already shoving Jess’s shorts and knickers down in one desperate yank. Jess’s bare, soaked cunt met the cool lobby air for half a second before Mia dropped to her knees and buried her face between those long thighs with a hungry groan. The wet sounds of Mia’s tongue pushing into Jess’s cunt filled the space like a starter pistol.
Diane spun, fisted a hand in Lauren’s hair, and kissed her hard enough to bruise. At the same time she shoved her other hand straight down the front of Lauren’s trousers, two fingers sinking into a cunt that was already dripping. Lauren cried out into Diane’s mouth and immediately returned the favour, yanking Diane’s jeans open and pushing inside her with no preamble. They finger-fucked each other standing up, moaning, grinding, the professional boundary annihilated in seconds.
Paige made a broken little sound and simply dropped to her hands and knees on the carpet. Eleanor—elegant, married Eleanor—stared for one stunned second, then sank down behind her, yanked Paige’s shorts aside, and sealed her mouth over the first-year’s cunt like a woman starving. Paige wailed and pushed back, already grinding on the older woman’s tongue.
The rest of the squad collapsed into each other in a cascading chain reaction. Kit bags hit the floor. Hoodies and tops were ripped off. Leggings and shorts were shoved down just far enough. Mouths found breasts, cunts, arses. Fingers pushed into anyone nearest. The wing defence whose mother was Eleanor ended up on her back with two teammates sixty-nining over her face while she licked whoever’s cunt was lowered to her mouth. The centres and shooters formed a messy, moaning tangle of scissoring thighs and frantic tongues. The remaining family members were pulled in without resistance—clothes torn open, legs spread, mouths filled.
Helen, Mandy and Sophie watched for a few seconds with pure predatory satisfaction, then joined.
Helen walked straight to Diane and Lauren, pulled Diane’s head back by the hair, and fed her a milk-wet breast while Mandy dropped behind Lauren, spread her arse cheeks, and started tonguing her hole while Lauren’s fingers were still buried in Diane. Sophie crawled into the middle of the player pile, lay on her back, and pulled two of the girls onto her face and cunt at the same time, moaning as they ground on her.
The lobby became a single wet, writhing organism in under a minute.
Jess came first—hard, thighs clamping around Mia’s head, a gush of nectar flooding Mia’s mouth while she cried out and kept grinding. Mia swallowed greedily and didn’t stop licking. Diane came on Lauren’s fingers with a broken shout, knees buckling; Lauren followed seconds later, cunt clenching around Diane’s hand while Mandy’s tongue worked her arse. Paige sobbed through an orgasm on Eleanor’s tongue, then twisted around so she could return the favour, the two of them ending up in a desperate sixty-nine on the lobby carpet while other players stroked their hair and fed them fingers to suck.
No one was speaking in full sentences anymore—only moans, wet suckling sounds, the slap of skin, the filthy encouragement of “fuck… taste her… deeper… don’t stop…”
Helen finally raised her voice, still calm, still smiling, even as one of the netball girls latched onto her free breast and another knelt to lick the fresh nectar from her cunt.
“That’s enough for the open lobby. Time to take this somewhere more comfortable. Function room. Now. All of you. Bring your hunger with you.”
They moved like a single lust-drunk herd—still half-dressed, still touching, still licking and fingering each other as they were herded down the corridor. Mouths stayed locked on cunts and breasts even while walking. Fingers stayed buried. Cum and nectar already streaked thighs and chins.
The function room doors opened onto a large, low-lit space that had already been prepared: mattresses dragged together into one enormous nest, soft lighting, the air even thicker with the collective scent. The doors closed and locked behind them.
That was the last moment any of them still resembled a netball team, coaches, or family.
What followed was pure, mindless, creature-of-lust abandon.
Jess ended up on her back in the centre with Mia sitting on her face and Paige sitting on her cunt, both women grinding and coating her while Diane fucked Mia from behind with a thick double-ended toy and Lauren sat on Paige’s face. Eleanor was on her hands and knees getting her cunt eaten by one player while another fucked her mouth and a third licked her arse. Bodies stacked and rotated without plan or pause—sixty-nines, triangles, daisy-chains of mouths on cunts, fingers and tongues and the occasional cock from converted staff who drifted in to help. Milk was shared from Helen’s and the other converted women’s breasts. Nectar was licked straight from source and then fed mouth-to-mouth. Orgasm after orgasm rolled through the group until the distinction between captain and first-year, coach and mother, player and family simply dissolved.
They became what the hotel had made them: wet, moaning, endlessly hungry creatures who only wanted to suck and fuck and drink and come and then immediately do it again.
Jess’s last coherent thought, before it too was licked away, was that she never wanted to leave this room.
None of them did.
The function room filled with the constant wet symphony of an entire netball squad, their coaches, and their family members reduced to pure, self-sustaining lust—tongues in cunts, fingers in arses, mouths on breasts, bodies locked together in every combination, the addiction locking in deeper with every swallow and every climax.
The hotel had them.
And they were never going to want anything else.