Mag-log inOlivia I reached between us and fumbled with his zipper. He lifted his hips, helped me free him. His dick was hot, heavy and already leaking.No condom or discussion. I didn’t care. I shoved my panties to the side the wet fabric sticking to my folds and sank down.We both moaned loudly and shameless.He filled me in one long, slow slide, stretching me open and hitting every nerve. I froze when my ass met his thighs, I was full of him, aching, it’s perfect.His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise.“Move,” he rasped.I did. Slow rolls at first, grinding my clit against his pelvis. Then lifting and dropping harder, fast. The Jeep rocked with us and windows fogged instantly.He yanked the straps of my dress down my tits spilling out. He put his mouth on my nipple…. sucking hard with teeth grazing softly. I cried out with my head falling back, riding him faster.“God…..Michael….yes….”He switched nipples, hand sliding between us and thumb finding my clit…. rubbing fast in messy c
OliviaThe bass from the speakers in Sloane’s backyard thumped through the grass and up into the soles of my bare feet. I’d kicked off my strappy sandals about an hour ago because the lawn was soft and the night was warm and I’d already had three glasses of the rosé Sloane kept pouring like it was water. Her forty-fifth birthday party was in full swing, string lights crisscrossed overhead, long tables groaning under catered trays of shrimp skewers and mini crab cakes, laughter spilling from every cluster of people. I should have been mingling. Instead I was leaning against the wooden fence that separated her yard from the neighbor’s, pretending to check my phone while I watched him.Michael. Sloane’s only son. Twenty-four. Home from grad school for the summer. Six-foot-two now, shoulders that had finally caught up to the promise of his teenage frame, dark hair still damp from the pool earlier, white linen shirt unbuttoned enough that I could see the hollow at the base of his throat an
I spat on her pussy, rubbed it in with my cockhead and then plunged back in.This angle was deeper and meaner. Every thrust slapped my balls against her clit so hard. She screamed into her forearm, trying to muffle it but failing.I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. “Let them hear. Let the whole fucking building know who owns this pussy.”“Yes…..yes….yours….only yours….”I fucked her harder and faster until the desk was rattling like it was going to collapse.Then I pulled out again then dragged her across the room where I bent her over the leather sofa in the corner. Same thing: dress shoved up, legs spread, cock buried to the hilt.She came first, screaming my name her pussy clamping so tight I almost lost it. I fucked her through it relentlessly until her legs gave out.Then I bent her over the filing cabinet.Then the conference table.Then back to my desk, put her on her back again, legs wrapped around my waist and nails digging into my shoulders while I pounded her into
DannyThe office was dead quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the wet, obscene sounds Gia was making around my cock.She’d shown up exactly twenty-three minutes after my text, this is a record time for her. No bra, no panties, just that tiny red dress that hugged her tits like it was painted on and ended high enough on her thighs that one wrong move would flash the entire building. She knew the rules. She always knew the rules.I’d spent last night sexting her until 2 a.m. filthy promises about what I’d do to her throat, her pussy and her ass if she showed up today. Then she’d sent one last voice note: her moaning my name while she fucked herself with that thick pink dildo I bought her last month. I’d jerked off twice in my bed after that and still woke up hard. Still hard when I walked into the office at 7:45. Still hard when the clock hit 11:00 and she finally strolled through my door like she owned the place.Now she was on her knees between my spread thighs, m
Gabriel, not Ethan but Gabriel. My mother’s late husband’s best friend. The man who’d carried Dad’s casket. The man who’d come to every birthday, every holiday, every family barbecue.The man I’d called Uncle Gabe until I was sixteen and realized I was staring at his arms too long.I scrambled to sit up grabbing for my dress to heart in my throat.Mom set the bags on the entry table like this was normal.Like she hadn’t just walked in on her daughter half naked with a man twice her age.“Mom…” My voice cracked. “This isn’t…” She waved a hand in a casual gesture“Don’t be dramatic, Ava. I told Gabriel he could stop by. I gave him the spare key last month when I was worried about the pipes.”Pipes? She was worried about pipes?Not about her twenty-four-year-old daughter getting throat-fucked in the living room by her dead husband’s best friend.Gabriel still half naked, still half-hard….. stood slowly. Unashamed. He reached for his shirt folded neatly on the armchair like he’d planned
AvaThe front door clicked shut behind me with a finality that felt like a slap. My keys hit the bowl on the entry table harder than necessary, the metallic clatter echoing through the quiet house. I’d spent the last hour sitting in my car outside the apartment complex where Mark…. ex-Mark now….. lived with his new “roommate,” the one he’d been “just friends” with for six months. The one he’d finally admitted he was in love with. The one who wasn’t me.I was still wearing the dress I’d picked out this morning hoping tonight would be different. Black, fitted, low-cut enough to feel dangerous. Now it just felt like a costume for a role I’d been fired from.The living room light was on.I froze in the hallway.I live alone. Mom hasn’t had a key since I changed the locks after Dad died two years ago. No one else has a key. No one should be here.My heart kicked up, not quite fear yet…. more like the slow drip of adrenaline that comes right before something irreversible happens.I stepped f







