Deb vs Wendy: Full Match Recap
The air is thick—charged with heat, tension, and anticipation.
Deb and Wendy stand across from each other in the center of the basement, already fully nude, their bodies glowing with a light sheen of anticipation. Both girls stretch slightly—arms up, hips swaying, eyes locked. There's no hesitation now, only hunger.
Mike and Eddie, completely bare, sit side by side just a few feet away on the carpet, already slowly stroking. Their eyes flick between the girls, trying to decide who to focus on—but it’s impossible. Both are stunning. Both are ready to fight for every ounce of attention.
Deb moves first—stepping in with smooth confidence, her hips leading. “Ready, Wendy?”
Wendy smirks, dropping to one knee and running her hands slowly over her thighs. “Born ready. Just hope Mike doesn’t pop before we even touch.”
The girls sink down together, thighs parting, bodies angling in tight. Skin meets skin. Their petals brush—just a tease at first—and both shudder slightly. The boys gasp.
Deb slides her hands behind Wendy’s thighs, pulling her in tight as their pearls align. Wendy locks her ankles around Deb’s hips.
And then—they start to grind.
It’s slow. Purposeful. Rhythmic.
Each push is deliberate—pelvises rotating, pearls rubbing with focused heat. Their foreheads touch, lips brushing without kissing, breath hot and heavy.
Mike’s breathing spikes. Eddie moans softly. They’re both fully locked in.
Deb growls under her breath, “Hope you’re watching me when she melts, boys.”
The grind deepens.
Deb shifts her hips slightly—just enough to angle her pearl perfectly against Wendy’s. Their breathing syncs, each exhale timed with the slow, deliberate press of hips. Slick warmth builds, and the sound of their bodies moving together begins to fill the room—soft, wet, steady.
Wendy’s eyes flutter for a second. Just a flicker. Deb sees it.
“You feel that?” she whispers, her lips brushing Wendy’s cheek. “That’s me finding your edge.”
Wendy shudders, but tightens her grip—legs wrapped firmer, grinding back, not giving in. “Not yet,” she breathes. “But you’re close.”
The boys are on edge—hands moving faster, unable to look away. Mike lets out a quiet “holy shit” as Deb arches slightly, forcing more pressure into each motion. Eddie’s already leaning forward, eyes locked on the slick shine glistening where the girls are fused.
Rhythm quickens.
Wendy’s fingers dig into Deb’s back. Her mouth opens—no words, just breath. Then her thighs twitch.
Deb knows.
She clamps her core tight, rotates in a slow circle, and whispers right into Wendy’s ear:
“Quake for me.”
Wendy gasps—hips stuttering—legs beginning to tremble.
And then it hits.
Her body convulses—once, hard. A pulse through her core. Hips roll, back arches. It’s not subtle. It’s not small. It’s the first quake—a full one.
“There it is,” Deb moans, grinding deeper to ride it out.
Mike gasps—he’s holding back, but barely. Eddie bites his lip, clearly struggling.
Deb doesn’t let up. She leans in, foreheads still pressed, and whispers, “One more to go, baby.”
The moment Wendy quakes, it sends shockwaves through the room.
Mike’s hand jerks a little faster, his eyes locked on the spot where Deb’s hips are still rotating—riding Wendy’s trembling body like she owns it. His mouth is slightly open, chest rising and falling like he just ran a sprint.
Eddie’s knuckles are white where he grips himself, his jaw tight, lips pressed together like he's trying so hard not to let go. But his eyes? Totally fixed on Wendy’s face—watching the quake roll through her, her expression caught between surrender and need.
Mike leans in just a little, whispering, “She’s not done… Deb’s gonna break her again.”
Eddie nods, barely breathing. “I know… I can’t… I’m not gonna make it if she…”
Right then, Deb gives a hard, grinding push—her hips slow but heavy—pressing Wendy into the floor with that deliberate, claiming rhythm.
Eddie lets out this tiny, strangled noise.
Mike turns to him, still stroking. “Don’t you dare spill before she quakes again.”
Eddie groans, trying to hold back, trying to time it, but he’s right there.
Deb feels it—that perfect pressure building again beneath her. Wendy’s still trying to hold on, her body slick and twitching, but her thighs are tightening involuntarily now. Her breath comes in short, desperate gasps.
Deb leans in, lips brushing Wendy’s ear, voice like a low growl.
“You’re gonna gush again… and I want him watching when you do.”
Wendy whimpers, legs trying to clamp tighter, but Deb shifts her hips just right—slow, deep, direct pearl-to-pearl grind. She’s not teasing anymore—she’s guiding Wendy right to that edge.
Mike lets out a ragged breath, but his eyes flick toward Eddie.
Eddie’s hand speeds up. His whole body clenches. He’s trying to hold it—begging his body to wait just a few more seconds.
But then—
Wendy arches, her head snapping back with a cry as her hips convulse again. A second quake hits her—harder than the first. Liquid slick glistens between their joined bodies, and Deb rides it with that victorious rhythm, biting her lower lip.
“Spill for me.”
Mike bucks, gasps—and lets go.
His release is a full-body surrender, eyes wide as he watches Deb finish her grind, locking in that final moment while Wendy shudders underneath her.
And Deb, glowing and slick, smiles down at both boys as they pant and tremble.
“That’s how a queen finishes.”
Deb’s body is still twitching with aftershocks, her chest rising and falling as that raw power lingers in her every move. She looks down at Wendy—still pinned by presence alone, face flushed, lips parted, eyes wide.
Deb raises her glistening fingers—slick with both conquest and her own release—and pauses.
Then, slowly, deliberately, she lowers her hand to Wendy’s mouth.
Not forcing, not asking—just presenting.
“You know what to do,” Deb whispers, her voice like velvet over steel.
Wendy doesn’t hesitate. Her lips part, and she lets Deb slide her soaked fingers inside—one by one. Wendy’s tongue meets them eagerly, tasting the mix of defeat and dominance, surrendering fully to the moment.
Mike lets out a stunned, quiet “holy hell…”
Eddie watches, lips barely moving, whispering, “She owned her…”
Deb finally pulls her fingers free, a string of slickness trailing briefly from Wendy’s lips. She stands tall now—fully upright, radiant and spent, but triumphant.
She plants one foot between Wendy’s thighs, then leans down just enough to murmur her final line:
“Next time? You beg to be under me.”
And with that, she turns, hips swaying slowly, confidently, as she walks away—leaving Wendy flat, the boys drained, and the room forever changed.
