Stuck In Bernadette’s Universe

Is Bernie becoming a sex doll.

Based on the works of OnePaige, in 10 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

John looked at Bernadette standing naked and panting in the doorway and thought, right on time. His cock still throbbed in Shonna, her sheath slick, fiery from their friction. They'd both been moments from a brain-melting orgasm. The black woman stared fiercely at his sister. It wasn't precisely according to the plan they'd devised, but he wasn't surprised. He expected this to happen. John didn't think he'd manipulated his sister so much as guided her to the venue where her true desires could surface. Every woman, virgin or not, has a goddess waiting inside to express herself.

And this was the most delicate moment in her goddess's unfolding.

"What the fuck, girl!?" said Shonna irritably, still gripping the exercise machine, still clenching on John's thick shaft. They both dripped sweat. They both still breathed deeply. They both still wanted that elusive orgasm. He was counting on it.

"Sorry; sorry," said Bernadette, leaning on the jamb and only half able to cover herself. This isn't how we planned it, she thought, but I kinda have to play along now, don't I?

"I couldn't resist, Shonna. I had to see; uh; this guy; uh; at work. I mean, in action; no, I mean; I'm sorry, I don't know what's got into me." Abashed as she was, she couldn't take her eyes off them, curved into each other, a double-parentheses of desire. And the two pairs of eyes on her weren't judging her, at least not for her looks. Maybe Shonna was angry for the interruption but her eyes took her all in with an animal kind of appetite, from her toes to her dimpled cheeks. Bernadette felt them burn their path up her body and it felt good.

John's eyes appreciated her, too, she saw. He didn't seem upset, but instead that smug smile made her warm inside. Self-consciousness drained from her and some tentative confidence rose in its place. Her own animal appetite made itself known. I didn't think I could still be horny after getting myself off, she thought, but look at these two looking at me; I wanna see where this goes.

John had imagined Bernadette unclothed, but now he could appreciate her burgeoning womanhood. In her nakedness she had the air of an Ingres nude, maybe that one of the girl standing in a pool with the ewer on her shoulder. There was something innocent about her softness, the full curves and slim waist, the tentative posture in the doorway. Her smoothness and her shyness, being caught exposed, made her sweetly appealing.

Bernadette's dusky rose skin, smooth and soft, shaped a body just about grown into its full womanhood. His eye traced the hourglass of her, the messily knotted dark hair, the round shoulders, the high, full tits tipped with small, ochre, crinkled areolae and fat raspberry nipples, pinched waist, soft belly, deep navel, wide hips, wisp of short-trimmed charcoal pubes. His sister had a buoyancy where the woman impaled on him had a firm energetic angularity. John wanted both, the angry, muscular little sex machine stuck on his cock and the plush, skittish but hungry sister poised to join or flee.