u/RepulsiveComfort1888

It had been a week since her trip. Just long enough that everything should’ve gone back to normal. But I guess nothing was really normal after that weekend.

She was back. And so was he. Back to pretending, back to playing boyfriend. But something had shifted.

Because I was still coming over. Still sneaking in through the side gate, still biting my lip when his hands slipped under my clothes before I even got through the door. Still letting him bend me over the furniture she paid for.

And I knew it was reckless. But there was something addictive about being the secret. Especially when the risk felt so good.

He was in the shower when it happened.

The sex had been quick this time and I barely made it through the door before he had me up against the wall, one leg hitched around his hip, his cock buried so deep inside me I forgot my own name.

My thighs were still slick with his cum.

I was moving fast, trying to clean up, hunting for my phone and bra when I saw it: A slim, gold tube on the nightstand.

I knew instantly.

My eyebrow pencil.

The one I’d raved about to my friends. The one I’d bought online after seeing too many TikToks about it. The one I thought I lost last time I was here.

And now it was sitting in plain view.

Right next to his cologne and that ugly lamp she bought him for his birthday.

Fuck.

I must’ve left it here last weekend.

Maybe while I was tossing everything out of my bag, desperate to find condoms, even though we wouldn’t use them. Or when I climbed onto him without even undressing first, grinding against him like I didn’t care what I dropped or broke or lost.

But now it was out. And if she saw it or when she saw it... she’d definitely know it wasn’t hers.

Because it was specific. Too specific.

Girls like her? They notice things. The packaging. The shade name. The stupid little triangle tip that made it viral.

And she might not know me... not my name, not my face... but she’d know this wasn’t hers.

I grabbed it fast, heart racing, and shoved it deep into my purse like it was evidence.

I was halfway to the door when I heard the bathroom click open.

He walked out, towel hanging dangerously low, water glistening on his chest, like he didn’t have a girlfriend coming home in a few hours.

“Leaving already?” he asked.

“I should,” I said, trying to avoid looking at him. Trying not to remember how good his cock had just felt buried inside me.

He stepped closer. His grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Just gonna sneak off without saying goodbye?”

He reached out.

Fingers under my chin. Lifting. Tilting.

My eyes met his, and just like that, I was fucked all over again.

“I already said goodbye,” I whispered.

But I didn’t pull away.

His thumb dragged over my bottom lip.

“You were rushing.”

His other hand slid down my back. Found the curve of my ass. Gripped.

“You forget something?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because he was already kissing me.

Hungry. Deep.

He pushed me back against the edge of the bed, the towel falling to the floor without a second thought.

He was hard already.

His cock thick and stiff and flushed, like it had missed me.

He yanked my leggings down. Peeled off my panties.

“Still wet,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through the mess between my legs.

I shivered.

And then he was on his knees.

Eating me out like he hadn’t had breakfast.

Long, slow licks. The kind that made my knees shake. The kind that made me arch my back and beg.

He sucked on my clit until I gasped, then slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, making me moan his name so loud I had to slap a hand over my mouth.

When I came, it was a full-body tremor.

Shaking.

Soaking his face.

He stood up, wiped his mouth, and grinned.

“Still in a rush?”

I didn’t answer.

Because he was already turning me around, bending me over the bed, spreading me open.

And then he was inside.

All of him.

No teasing this time. No warm-up. Just thick cock driving into me with one brutal thrust that made me bite the sheet.

He groaned.

“Fuck, you feel better every time.”

He started slow. Deep.

The kind of rhythm that made you ache for more. The kind of rhythm that teased your body open, stretch by stretch, until all you could do was moan.

The bed creaked.

His hands gripped my hips so tight I knew they’d bruise.

He leaned over, voice in my ear.

“She asked if I’d cleaned our bedroom yesterday.”

I froze.

He didn’t stop thrusting.

“She said something felt… off.”

My heart kicked into overdrive.

He pulled out halfway.

Then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“She’s just suspicious,” he whispered. “She doesn’t know.”

Another thrust. Deeper this time.

“She said it smelled different in here.”

He dragged his tongue up my neck.

“Probably your perfume.”

His cock pulsed inside me.

“I told her it was a new air freshener.”

And then he fucked me harder. Like the lie turned him on. Like keeping her in the dark made the sex better.

It did.

For both of us.

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, dizzy.

“You love sneaking around. Leaving your scent on my sheets. Leaving little clues.”

“I didn’t mean to — ”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He thrust hard.

“You want her to know.”

My pussy clenched around him.

He felt it.

“Yeah,” he growled. “You do.”

And he came.

Deep.

Hot.

Filling me up so full I could feel it dripping down the back of my thighs.

We didn’t speak for a few minutes.

Just breathing.

Sweating.

Fucked out.

Eventually, I got dressed. Again.

This time slower. Smarter.

No eyebrow pencil left behind.

But later that night, he sent me a text.

“She found one of your hairs on the nightstand.”

My stomach twisted.

But his next message?

“Told her it was my sister’s.”

I didn’t reply.

Because I wasn’t scared.

Not yet.

It had been a week since her trip. Just long enough that everything should’ve gone back to normal. But I guess nothing was really normal after that weekend.

She was back. And so was he. Back to pretending, back to playing boyfriend. But something had shifted.

Because I was still coming over. Still sneaking in through the side gate, still biting my lip when his hands slipped under my clothes before I even got through the door. Still letting him bend me over the furniture she paid for.

And I knew it was reckless. But there was something addictive about being the secret. Especially when the risk felt so good.

He was in the shower when it happened.

The sex had been quick this time and I barely made it through the door before he had me up against the wall, one leg hitched around his hip, his cock buried so deep inside me I forgot my own name.

My thighs were still slick with his cum.

I was moving fast, trying to clean up, hunting for my phone and bra when I saw it: A slim, gold tube on the nightstand.

I knew instantly.

My eyebrow pencil.

The one I’d raved about to my friends. The one I’d bought online after seeing too many TikToks about it. The one I thought I lost last time I was here.

And now it was sitting in plain view.

Right next to his cologne and that ugly lamp she bought him for his birthday.

Fuck.

I must’ve left it here last weekend.

Maybe while I was tossing everything out of my bag, desperate to find condoms, even though we wouldn’t use them. Or when I climbed onto him without even undressing first, grinding against him like I didn’t care what I dropped or broke or lost.

But now it was out. And if she saw it or when she saw it... she’d definitely know it wasn’t hers.

Because it was specific. Too specific.

Girls like her? They notice things. The packaging. The shade name. The stupid little triangle tip that made it viral.

And she might not know me... not my name, not my face... but she’d know this wasn’t hers.

I grabbed it fast, heart racing, and shoved it deep into my purse like it was evidence.

I was halfway to the door when I heard the bathroom click open.

He walked out, towel hanging dangerously low, water glistening on his chest, like he didn’t have a girlfriend coming home in a few hours.

“Leaving already?” he asked.

“I should,” I said, trying to avoid looking at him. Trying not to remember how good his cock had just felt buried inside me.

He stepped closer. His grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Just gonna sneak off without saying goodbye?”

He reached out.

Fingers under my chin. Lifting. Tilting.

My eyes met his, and just like that, I was fucked all over again.

“I already said goodbye,” I whispered.

But I didn’t pull away.

His thumb dragged over my bottom lip.

“You were rushing.”

His other hand slid down my back. Found the curve of my ass. Gripped.

“You forget something?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because he was already kissing me.

Hungry. Deep.

He pushed me back against the edge of the bed, the towel falling to the floor without a second thought.

He was hard already.

His cock thick and stiff and flushed, like it had missed me.

He yanked my leggings down. Peeled off my panties.

“Still wet,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through the mess between my legs.

I shivered.

And then he was on his knees.

Eating me out like he hadn’t had breakfast.

Long, slow licks. The kind that made my knees shake. The kind that made me arch my back and beg.

He sucked on my clit until I gasped, then slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, making me moan his name so loud I had to slap a hand over my mouth.

When I came, it was a full-body tremor.

Shaking.

Soaking his face.

He stood up, wiped his mouth, and grinned.

“Still in a rush?”

I didn’t answer.

Because he was already turning me around, bending me over the bed, spreading me open.

And then he was inside.

All of him.

No teasing this time. No warm-up. Just thick cock driving into me with one brutal thrust that made me bite the sheet.

He groaned.

“Fuck, you feel better every time.”

He started slow. Deep.

The kind of rhythm that made you ache for more. The kind of rhythm that teased your body open, stretch by stretch, until all you could do was moan.

The bed creaked.

His hands gripped my hips so tight I knew they’d bruise.

He leaned over, voice in my ear.

“She asked if I’d cleaned our bedroom yesterday.”

I froze.

He didn’t stop thrusting.

“She said something felt… off.”

My heart kicked into overdrive.

He pulled out halfway.

Then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“She’s just suspicious,” he whispered. “She doesn’t know.”

Another thrust. Deeper this time.

“She said it smelled different in here.”

He dragged his tongue up my neck.

“Probably your perfume.”

His cock pulsed inside me.

“I told her it was a new air freshener.”

And then he fucked me harder. Like the lie turned him on. Like keeping her in the dark made the sex better.

It did.

For both of us.

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, dizzy.

“You love sneaking around. Leaving your scent on my sheets. Leaving little clues.”

“I didn’t mean to — ”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He thrust hard.

“You want her to know.”

My pussy clenched around him.

He felt it.

“Yeah,” he growled. “You do.”

And he came.

Deep.

Hot.

Filling me up so full I could feel it dripping down the back of my thighs.

We didn’t speak for a few minutes.

Just breathing.

Sweating.

Fucked out.

Eventually, I got dressed. Again.

This time slower. Smarter.

No eyebrow pencil left behind.

But later that night, he sent me a text.

“She found one of your hairs on the nightstand.”

My stomach twisted.

But his next message?

“Told her it was my sister’s.”

I didn’t reply.

Because I wasn’t scared.

Not yet.

It had been a week since her trip. Just long enough that everything should’ve gone back to normal. But I guess nothing was really normal after that weekend.

She was back. And so was he. Back to pretending, back to playing boyfriend. But something had shifted.

Because I was still coming over. Still sneaking in through the side gate, still biting my lip when his hands slipped under my clothes before I even got through the door. Still letting him bend me over the furniture she paid for.

And I knew it was reckless. But there was something addictive about being the secret. Especially when the risk felt so good.

He was in the shower when it happened.

The sex had been quick this time and I barely made it through the door before he had me up against the wall, one leg hitched around his hip, his cock buried so deep inside me I forgot my own name.

My thighs were still slick with his cum.

I was moving fast, trying to clean up, hunting for my phone and bra when I saw it: A slim, gold tube on the nightstand.

I knew instantly.

My eyebrow pencil.

The one I’d raved about to my friends. The one I’d bought online after seeing too many TikToks about it. The one I thought I lost last time I was here.

And now it was sitting in plain view.

Right next to his cologne and that ugly lamp she bought him for his birthday.

Fuck.

I must’ve left it here last weekend.

Maybe while I was tossing everything out of my bag, desperate to find condoms, even though we wouldn’t use them. Or when I climbed onto him without even undressing first, grinding against him like I didn’t care what I dropped or broke or lost.

But now it was out. And if she saw it or when she saw it... she’d definitely know it wasn’t hers.

Because it was specific. Too specific.

Girls like her? They notice things. The packaging. The shade name. The stupid little triangle tip that made it viral.

And she might not know me... not my name, not my face... but she’d know this wasn’t hers.

I grabbed it fast, heart racing, and shoved it deep into my purse like it was evidence.

I was halfway to the door when I heard the bathroom click open.

He walked out, towel hanging dangerously low, water glistening on his chest, like he didn’t have a girlfriend coming home in a few hours.

“Leaving already?” he asked.

“I should,” I said, trying to avoid looking at him. Trying not to remember how good his cock had just felt buried inside me.

He stepped closer. His grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Just gonna sneak off without saying goodbye?”

He reached out.

Fingers under my chin. Lifting. Tilting.

My eyes met his, and just like that, I was fucked all over again.

“I already said goodbye,” I whispered.

But I didn’t pull away.

His thumb dragged over my bottom lip.

“You were rushing.”

His other hand slid down my back. Found the curve of my ass. Gripped.

“You forget something?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because he was already kissing me.

Hungry. Deep.

He pushed me back against the edge of the bed, the towel falling to the floor without a second thought.

He was hard already.

His cock thick and stiff and flushed, like it had missed me.

He yanked my leggings down. Peeled off my panties.

“Still wet,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through the mess between my legs.

I shivered.

And then he was on his knees.

Eating me out like he hadn’t had breakfast.

Long, slow licks. The kind that made my knees shake. The kind that made me arch my back and beg.

He sucked on my clit until I gasped, then slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, making me moan his name so loud I had to slap a hand over my mouth.

When I came, it was a full-body tremor.

Shaking.

Soaking his face.

He stood up, wiped his mouth, and grinned.

“Still in a rush?”

I didn’t answer.

Because he was already turning me around, bending me over the bed, spreading me open.

And then he was inside.

All of him.

No teasing this time. No warm-up. Just thick cock driving into me with one brutal thrust that made me bite the sheet.

He groaned.

“Fuck, you feel better every time.”

He started slow. Deep.

The kind of rhythm that made you ache for more. The kind of rhythm that teased your body open, stretch by stretch, until all you could do was moan.

The bed creaked.

His hands gripped my hips so tight I knew they’d bruise.

He leaned over, voice in my ear.

“She asked if I’d cleaned our bedroom yesterday.”

I froze.

He didn’t stop thrusting.

“She said something felt… off.”

My heart kicked into overdrive.

He pulled out halfway.

Then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“She’s just suspicious,” he whispered. “She doesn’t know.”

Another thrust. Deeper this time.

“She said it smelled different in here.”

He dragged his tongue up my neck.

“Probably your perfume.”

His cock pulsed inside me.

“I told her it was a new air freshener.”

And then he fucked me harder. Like the lie turned him on. Like keeping her in the dark made the sex better.

It did.

For both of us.

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, dizzy.

“You love sneaking around. Leaving your scent on my sheets. Leaving little clues.”

“I didn’t mean to — ”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He thrust hard.

“You want her to know.”

My pussy clenched around him.

He felt it.

“Yeah,” he growled. “You do.”

And he came.

Deep.

Hot.

Filling me up so full I could feel it dripping down the back of my thighs.

We didn’t speak for a few minutes.

Just breathing.

Sweating.

Fucked out.

Eventually, I got dressed. Again.

This time slower. Smarter.

No eyebrow pencil left behind.

But later that night, he sent me a text.

“She found one of your hairs on the nightstand.”

My stomach twisted.

But his next message?

“Told her it was my sister’s.”

I didn’t reply.

Because I wasn’t scared.

Not yet.

It had been a week since her trip. Just long enough that everything should’ve gone back to normal. But I guess nothing was really normal after that weekend.

She was back. And so was he. Back to pretending, back to playing boyfriend. But something had shifted.

Because I was still coming over. Still sneaking in through the side gate, still biting my lip when his hands slipped under my clothes before I even got through the door. Still letting him bend me over the furniture she paid for.

And I knew it was reckless. But there was something addictive about being the secret. Especially when the risk felt so good.

He was in the shower when it happened.

The sex had been quick this time and I barely made it through the door before he had me up against the wall, one leg hitched around his hip, his cock buried so deep inside me I forgot my own name.

My thighs were still slick with his cum.

I was moving fast, trying to clean up, hunting for my phone and bra when I saw it: A slim, gold tube on the nightstand.

I knew instantly.

My eyebrow pencil.

The one I’d raved about to my friends. The one I’d bought online after seeing too many TikToks about it. The one I thought I lost last time I was here.

And now it was sitting in plain view.

Right next to his cologne and that ugly lamp she bought him for his birthday.

Fuck.

I must’ve left it here last weekend.

Maybe while I was tossing everything out of my bag, desperate to find condoms, even though we wouldn’t use them. Or when I climbed onto him without even undressing first, grinding against him like I didn’t care what I dropped or broke or lost.

But now it was out. And if she saw it or when she saw it... she’d definitely know it wasn’t hers.

Because it was specific. Too specific.

Girls like her? They notice things. The packaging. The shade name. The stupid little triangle tip that made it viral.

And she might not know me... not my name, not my face... but she’d know this wasn’t hers.

I grabbed it fast, heart racing, and shoved it deep into my purse like it was evidence.

I was halfway to the door when I heard the bathroom click open.

He walked out, towel hanging dangerously low, water glistening on his chest, like he didn’t have a girlfriend coming home in a few hours.

“Leaving already?” he asked.

“I should,” I said, trying to avoid looking at him. Trying not to remember how good his cock had just felt buried inside me.

He stepped closer. His grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Just gonna sneak off without saying goodbye?”

He reached out.

Fingers under my chin. Lifting. Tilting.

My eyes met his, and just like that, I was fucked all over again.

“I already said goodbye,” I whispered.

But I didn’t pull away.

His thumb dragged over my bottom lip.

“You were rushing.”

His other hand slid down my back. Found the curve of my ass. Gripped.

“You forget something?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because he was already kissing me.

Hungry. Deep.

He pushed me back against the edge of the bed, the towel falling to the floor without a second thought.

He was hard already.

His cock thick and stiff and flushed, like it had missed me.

He yanked my leggings down. Peeled off my panties.

“Still wet,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through the mess between my legs.

I shivered.

And then he was on his knees.

Eating me out like he hadn’t had breakfast.

Long, slow licks. The kind that made my knees shake. The kind that made me arch my back and beg.

He sucked on my clit until I gasped, then slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, making me moan his name so loud I had to slap a hand over my mouth.

When I came, it was a full-body tremor.

Shaking.

Soaking his face.

He stood up, wiped his mouth, and grinned.

“Still in a rush?”

I didn’t answer.

Because he was already turning me around, bending me over the bed, spreading me open.

And then he was inside.

All of him.

No teasing this time. No warm-up. Just thick cock driving into me with one brutal thrust that made me bite the sheet.

He groaned.

“Fuck, you feel better every time.”

He started slow. Deep.

The kind of rhythm that made you ache for more. The kind of rhythm that teased your body open, stretch by stretch, until all you could do was moan.

The bed creaked.

His hands gripped my hips so tight I knew they’d bruise.

He leaned over, voice in my ear.

“She asked if I’d cleaned our bedroom yesterday.”

I froze.

He didn’t stop thrusting.

“She said something felt… off.”

My heart kicked into overdrive.

He pulled out halfway.

Then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“She’s just suspicious,” he whispered. “She doesn’t know.”

Another thrust. Deeper this time.

“She said it smelled different in here.”

He dragged his tongue up my neck.

“Probably your perfume.”

His cock pulsed inside me.

“I told her it was a new air freshener.”

And then he fucked me harder. Like the lie turned him on. Like keeping her in the dark made the sex better.

It did.

For both of us.

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, dizzy.

“You love sneaking around. Leaving your scent on my sheets. Leaving little clues.”

“I didn’t mean to — ”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He thrust hard.

“You want her to know.”

My pussy clenched around him.

He felt it.

“Yeah,” he growled. “You do.”

And he came.

Deep.

Hot.

Filling me up so full I could feel it dripping down the back of my thighs.

We didn’t speak for a few minutes.

Just breathing.

Sweating.

Fucked out.

Eventually, I got dressed. Again.

This time slower. Smarter.

No eyebrow pencil left behind.

But later that night, he sent me a text.

“She found one of your hairs on the nightstand.”

My stomach twisted.

But his next message?

“Told her it was my sister’s.”

I didn’t reply.

Because I wasn’t scared.

Not yet.

(Continued…)

Her voice was still coming through the phone. Light, cheerful, oblivious.

And I was full of him.

I don’t remember what she was saying... something about the beach, about sunscreen, about the weird guy who tried to flirt with her sister at brunch.

None of it mattered.

Because he was still inside me.

Buried deep. Hands on my hips. Blanket pushed aside now like we weren’t even pretending anymore.

He’d flipped me over when she started talking about plans for Sunday.

Had me on all fours in her bed, facing her pillow, setting the phone just beside it.

And I was moaning into her sheets.

He thrust into me again, deeper than before, the slap of skin echoing softly beneath her voice.

I barely kept my balance.

My arms shook from trying to stay still, from trying not to buck against him too hard.

But he didn’t make it easy.

He pulled out just enough to make me feel the loss and then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“Are you okay? You sound — ” she asked.

I slapped my hand to my mouth.

And moaned into my palm as he fucked me faster.

“Just a small cramp,” he stammered when he could speak again, barely keeping his voice steady. “It’s nothing.”

She asked again. “Are you… are you alone?”

He grabbed my hair, just hard enough to make me clench around him, and whispered: “Say yes.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He replied again, this time a bit stern... “Yes baby.”

And he fucked me so hard I had to drop the phone to keep from screaming.

I mute it.

Her voice was still there, muffled against the mattress now, her questions softer, confused.

And he didn’t stop.

His cock slammed into me, thick and soaked, every thrust more brutal than the last.

My pussy was so wet with a mess of his pre-cum and my slick, squelching with every stroke.

The filthy noises were getting louder.

If she was not on mute, she had to hear it.

The slap of his hips against my ass. The sound of me choking on moans. The creak of her headboard against the wall.

And God… it made me wetter.

He grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back, holding them there with one hand as he fucked me like an animal.

Raw. Ruthless.

Like the idea of her listening was driving him wild.

And maybe it was.

Maybe he wanted to get caught.

Maybe I did too.

I heard her voice again.

Faint. “Hello? Is someone with you?”

His rhythm didn’t falter.

I turned my head toward the phone. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted.

And moaned.

Loud.

Deliberate.

Right into the mic.

She was still muted but it felt so good.

I whispered, “Don’t hang up.”

He pulled me up by the hair.

Still buried inside me.

And reached for the phone.

Unmuted her and said, “Baby, there's some network issue.” and then cut the call.

He fucked me hard and he came a moment later.

Deep inside me.

Thick, hot, flooding me so full I moaned again just from the feel of it.

We didn’t say a word.

We just lay there.

Sticky. Soaked. Breathing heavy.

Feeling the excitement.

(Continued…)

Her voice was still coming through the phone. Light, cheerful, oblivious.

And I was full of him.

I don’t remember what she was saying... something about the beach, about sunscreen, about the weird guy who tried to flirt with her sister at brunch.

None of it mattered.

Because he was still inside me.

Buried deep. Hands on my hips. Blanket pushed aside now like we weren’t even pretending anymore.

He’d flipped me over when she started talking about plans for Sunday.

Had me on all fours in her bed, facing her pillow, setting the phone just beside it.

And I was moaning into her sheets.

He thrust into me again, deeper than before, the slap of skin echoing softly beneath her voice.

I barely kept my balance.

My arms shook from trying to stay still, from trying not to buck against him too hard.

But he didn’t make it easy.

He pulled out just enough to make me feel the loss and then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“Are you okay? You sound — ” she asked.

I slapped my hand to my mouth.

And moaned into my palm as he fucked me faster.

“Just a small cramp,” he stammered when he could speak again, barely keeping his voice steady. “It’s nothing.”

She asked again. “Are you… are you alone?”

He grabbed my hair, just hard enough to make me clench around him, and whispered: “Say yes.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He replied again, this time a bit stern... “Yes baby.”

And he fucked me so hard I had to drop the phone to keep from screaming.

I mute it.

Her voice was still there, muffled against the mattress now, her questions softer, confused.

And he didn’t stop.

His cock slammed into me, thick and soaked, every thrust more brutal than the last.

My pussy was so wet with a mess of his pre-cum and my slick, squelching with every stroke.

The filthy noises were getting louder.

If she was not on mute, she had to hear it.

The slap of his hips against my ass. The sound of me choking on moans. The creak of her headboard against the wall.

And God… it made me wetter.

He grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back, holding them there with one hand as he fucked me like an animal.

Raw. Ruthless.

Like the idea of her listening was driving him wild.

And maybe it was.

Maybe he wanted to get caught.

Maybe I did too.

I heard her voice again.

Faint. “Hello? Is someone with you?”

His rhythm didn’t falter.

I turned my head toward the phone. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted.

And moaned.

Loud.

Deliberate.

Right into the mic.

She was still muted but it felt so good.

I whispered, “Don’t hang up.”

He pulled me up by the hair.

Still buried inside me.

And reached for the phone.

Unmuted her and said, “Baby, there's some network issue.” and then cut the call.

He fucked me hard and he came a moment later.

Deep inside me.

Thick, hot, flooding me so full I moaned again just from the feel of it.

We didn’t say a word.

We just lay there.

Sticky. Soaked. Breathing heavy.

Feeling the excitement.

(Continued…)

Her voice was still coming through the phone. Light, cheerful, oblivious.

And I was full of him.

I don’t remember what she was saying... something about the beach, about sunscreen, about the weird guy who tried to flirt with her sister at brunch.

None of it mattered.

Because he was still inside me.

Buried deep. Hands on my hips. Blanket pushed aside now like we weren’t even pretending anymore.

He’d flipped me over when she started talking about plans for Sunday.

Had me on all fours in her bed, facing her pillow, setting the phone just beside it.

And I was moaning into her sheets.

He thrust into me again, deeper than before, the slap of skin echoing softly beneath her voice.

I barely kept my balance.

My arms shook from trying to stay still, from trying not to buck against him too hard.

But he didn’t make it easy.

He pulled out just enough to make me feel the loss and then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“Are you okay? You sound — ” she asked.

I slapped my hand to my mouth.

And moaned into my palm as he fucked me faster.

“Just a small cramp,” he stammered when he could speak again, barely keeping his voice steady. “It’s nothing.”

She asked again. “Are you… are you alone?”

He grabbed my hair, just hard enough to make me clench around him, and whispered: “Say yes.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He replied again, this time a bit stern... “Yes baby.”

And he fucked me so hard I had to drop the phone to keep from screaming.

I mute it.

Her voice was still there, muffled against the mattress now, her questions softer, confused.

And he didn’t stop.

His cock slammed into me, thick and soaked, every thrust more brutal than the last.

My pussy was so wet with a mess of his pre-cum and my slick, squelching with every stroke.

The filthy noises were getting louder.

If she was not on mute, she had to hear it.

The slap of his hips against my ass. The sound of me choking on moans. The creak of her headboard against the wall.

And God… it made me wetter.

He grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back, holding them there with one hand as he fucked me like an animal.

Raw. Ruthless.

Like the idea of her listening was driving him wild.

And maybe it was.

Maybe he wanted to get caught.

Maybe I did too.

I heard her voice again.

Faint. “Hello? Is someone with you?”

His rhythm didn’t falter.

I turned my head toward the phone. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted.

And moaned.

Loud.

Deliberate.

Right into the mic.

She was still muted but it felt so good.

I whispered, “Don’t hang up.”

He pulled me up by the hair.

Still buried inside me.

And reached for the phone.

Unmuted her and said, “Baby, there's some network issue.” and then cut the call.

He fucked me hard and he came a moment later.

Deep inside me.

Thick, hot, flooding me so full I moaned again just from the feel of it.

We didn’t say a word.

We just lay there.

Sticky. Soaked. Breathing heavy.

Feeling the excitement.

(Continued…)

Her voice was still coming through the phone. Light, cheerful, oblivious.

And I was full of him.

I don’t remember what she was saying... something about the beach, about sunscreen, about the weird guy who tried to flirt with her sister at brunch.

None of it mattered.

Because he was still inside me.

Buried deep. Hands on my hips. Blanket pushed aside now like we weren’t even pretending anymore.

He’d flipped me over when she started talking about plans for Sunday.

Had me on all fours in her bed, facing her pillow, setting the phone just beside it.

And I was moaning into her sheets.

He thrust into me again, deeper than before, the slap of skin echoing softly beneath her voice.

I barely kept my balance.

My arms shook from trying to stay still, from trying not to buck against him too hard.

But he didn’t make it easy.

He pulled out just enough to make me feel the loss and then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“Are you okay? You sound — ” she asked.

I slapped my hand to my mouth.

And moaned into my palm as he fucked me faster.

“Just a small cramp,” he stammered when he could speak again, barely keeping his voice steady. “It’s nothing.”

She asked again. “Are you… are you alone?”

He grabbed my hair, just hard enough to make me clench around him, and whispered: “Say yes.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He replied again, this time a bit stern... “Yes baby.”

And he fucked me so hard I had to drop the phone to keep from screaming.

I mute it.

Her voice was still there, muffled against the mattress now, her questions softer, confused.

And he didn’t stop.

His cock slammed into me, thick and soaked, every thrust more brutal than the last.

My pussy was so wet with a mess of his pre-cum and my slick, squelching with every stroke.

The filthy noises were getting louder.

If she was not on mute, she had to hear it.

The slap of his hips against my ass. The sound of me choking on moans. The creak of her headboard against the wall.

And God… it made me wetter.

He grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back, holding them there with one hand as he fucked me like an animal.

Raw. Ruthless.

Like the idea of her listening was driving him wild.

And maybe it was.

Maybe he wanted to get caught.

Maybe I did too.

I heard her voice again.

Faint. “Hello? Is someone with you?”

His rhythm didn’t falter.

I turned my head toward the phone. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted.

And moaned.

Loud.

Deliberate.

Right into the mic.

She was still muted but it felt so good.

I whispered, “Don’t hang up.”

He pulled me up by the hair.

Still buried inside me.

And reached for the phone.

Unmuted her and said, “Baby, there's some network issue.” and then cut the call.

He fucked me hard and he came a moment later.

Deep inside me.

Thick, hot, flooding me so full I moaned again just from the feel of it.

We didn’t say a word.

We just lay there.

Sticky. Soaked. Breathing heavy.

Feeling the excitement.

Sunday morning at her house.

She’d sent a text that morning with bare legs on a deck chair, sunglasses too big for her face, and the text:  “Wish you were here 🩵”

I stared at it from her bed.

Her sheets.

Wearing her tank top.

His cum still drying on my thigh.

It had been quiet all morning.

He’d made coffee in just his boxers. I’d followed him around like a shadow. He touched me constantly. Couldn’t help it. Brushed my ass when I passed. Squeezed my tits while I leaned into the fridge. Bit my neck while I tried to pour creamer.

We didn’t talk about her.

We never really did.

But we both knew we were playing with fire.

And that made it so much better.

Around 10AM, her name lit up his phone.

“Can we call?”

I looked up at him. He was already watching me.

“You gonna answer that?” I asked, low, lazy.

He nodded.

And pulled the blanket up over my lap to hide how wet I already was.

“I miss you,” she pouted.

She was talking, but he wasn’t hearing her.

Because under the blanket, his hand was already sliding between my legs.

I widened them instinctively, biting the inside of my cheek while she rambled about her sister being late and how the Airbnb smelled like lavender.

His fingers dipped into my folds, already soaked. He smirked without even looking at me, just dragging them through my slit... slow and deliberate before pressing two fingers inside.

My legs jerked.

He curled his fingers.

I moaned.

Barely. A soft breath through my nose. But she heard it.

“Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks flushing. “Mm-hmm. Just missing you.”

He leaned closer, his lips and tongue on the side of my neck.

“Put the phone on the pillow,” I whispered.

He did.

She was still talking.

Still completely unaware.

He moved between my legs like it was his right.

Blanket half-draped over us. Me biting my lip. The call still active.

She was laughing about something now. Her sister, maybe. I couldn’t focus.

Because he was spreading me open.

And then I felt it.

The blunt heat of his cock pressing against my entrance.

I whimpered.

“Shh,” he whispered. “She’s right there.”

And then he pushed in.

It took everything in me not to scream.

He was so deep so fast... stretching me open under the blanket, under the screen, under her.

I gripped the mattress.

The phone was still on.

Her voice still floating from the speaker.

He started fucking me.

Slow, long strokes. The kind that made your whole body tighten just waiting for more.

My pussy was drenched. Slick. No resistance. He was gliding in and out of me like we were made for this.

Her voice kept going.

“I wish you could see the view,” she said. “I’ll show you later.”

He nodded dumbly and managed to say something barely audible in response.

My mouth fell open.

He thrusted deeper.

I bit the pillow.

She paused. “You’re really quiet.”

He tried to answer, but his breath caught.

Because he slammed into me hard.

I gasped.

He scrambled for composure. “Y-yeah. Sorry. Just… headache.”

He laughed against my neck.

She frowned, “Should I let you go?”

I shook my head.

“No,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “Stay on.”

(To be continued…)

Sunday morning at her house.

She’d sent a text that morning with bare legs on a deck chair, sunglasses too big for her face, and the text:  “Wish you were here 🩵”

I stared at it from her bed.

Her sheets.

Wearing her tank top.

His cum still drying on my thigh.

It had been quiet all morning.

He’d made coffee in just his boxers. I’d followed him around like a shadow. He touched me constantly. Couldn’t help it. Brushed my ass when I passed. Squeezed my tits while I leaned into the fridge. Bit my neck while I tried to pour creamer.

We didn’t talk about her.

We never really did.

But we both knew we were playing with fire.

And that made it so much better.

Around 10AM, her name lit up his phone.

“Can we call?”

I looked up at him. He was already watching me.

“You gonna answer that?” I asked, low, lazy.

He nodded.

And pulled the blanket up over my lap to hide how wet I already was.

“I miss you,” she pouted.

She was talking, but he wasn’t hearing her.

Because under the blanket, his hand was already sliding between my legs.

I widened them instinctively, biting the inside of my cheek while she rambled about her sister being late and how the Airbnb smelled like lavender.

His fingers dipped into my folds, already soaked. He smirked without even looking at me, just dragging them through my slit... slow and deliberate before pressing two fingers inside.

My legs jerked.

He curled his fingers.

I moaned.

Barely. A soft breath through my nose. But she heard it.

“Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks flushing. “Mm-hmm. Just missing you.”

He leaned closer, his lips and tongue on the side of my neck.

“Put the phone on the pillow,” I whispered.

He did.

She was still talking.

Still completely unaware.

He moved between my legs like it was his right.

Blanket half-draped over us. Me biting my lip. The call still active.

She was laughing about something now. Her sister, maybe. I couldn’t focus.

Because he was spreading me open.

And then I felt it.

The blunt heat of his cock pressing against my entrance.

I whimpered.

“Shh,” he whispered. “She’s right there.”

And then he pushed in.

It took everything in me not to scream.

He was so deep so fast... stretching me open under the blanket, under the screen, under her.

I gripped the mattress.

The phone was still on.

Her voice still floating from the speaker.

He started fucking me.

Slow, long strokes. The kind that made your whole body tighten just waiting for more.

My pussy was drenched. Slick. No resistance. He was gliding in and out of me like we were made for this.

Her voice kept going.

“I wish you could see the view,” she said. “I’ll show you later.”

He nodded dumbly and managed to say something barely audible in response.

My mouth fell open.

He thrusted deeper.

I bit the pillow.

She paused. “You’re really quiet.”

He tried to answer, but his breath caught.

Because he slammed into me hard.

I gasped.

He scrambled for composure. “Y-yeah. Sorry. Just… headache.”

He laughed against my neck.

She frowned, “Should I let you go?”

I shook my head.

“No,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “Stay on.”

(To be continued…)

Sunday morning at her house.

She’d sent a text that morning with bare legs on a deck chair, sunglasses too big for her face, and the text:  “Wish you were here 🩵”

I stared at it from her bed.

Her sheets.

Wearing her tank top.

His cum still drying on my thigh.

It had been quiet all morning.

He’d made coffee in just his boxers. I’d followed him around like a shadow. He touched me constantly. Couldn’t help it. Brushed my ass when I passed. Squeezed my tits while I leaned into the fridge. Bit my neck while I tried to pour creamer.

We didn’t talk about her.

We never really did.

But we both knew we were playing with fire.

And that made it so much better.

Around 10AM, her name lit up his phone.

“Can we call?”

I looked up at him. He was already watching me.

“You gonna answer that?” I asked, low, lazy.

He nodded.

And pulled the blanket up over my lap to hide how wet I already was.

“I miss you,” she pouted.

She was talking, but he wasn’t hearing her.

Because under the blanket, his hand was already sliding between my legs.

I widened them instinctively, biting the inside of my cheek while she rambled about her sister being late and how the Airbnb smelled like lavender.

His fingers dipped into my folds, already soaked. He smirked without even looking at me, just dragging them through my slit... slow and deliberate before pressing two fingers inside.

My legs jerked.

He curled his fingers.

I moaned.

Barely. A soft breath through my nose. But she heard it.

“Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks flushing. “Mm-hmm. Just missing you.”

He leaned closer, his lips and tongue on the side of my neck.

“Put the phone on the pillow,” I whispered.

He did.

She was still talking.

Still completely unaware.

He moved between my legs like it was his right.

Blanket half-draped over us. Me biting my lip. The call still active.

She was laughing about something now. Her sister, maybe. I couldn’t focus.

Because he was spreading me open.

And then I felt it.

The blunt heat of his cock pressing against my entrance.

I whimpered.

“Shh,” he whispered. “She’s right there.”

And then he pushed in.

It took everything in me not to scream.

He was so deep so fast... stretching me open under the blanket, under the screen, under her.

I gripped the mattress.

The phone was still on.

Her voice still floating from the speaker.

He started fucking me.

Slow, long strokes. The kind that made your whole body tighten just waiting for more.

My pussy was drenched. Slick. No resistance. He was gliding in and out of me like we were made for this.

Her voice kept going.

“I wish you could see the view,” she said. “I’ll show you later.”

He nodded dumbly and managed to say something barely audible in response.

My mouth fell open.

He thrusted deeper.

I bit the pillow.

She paused. “You’re really quiet.”

He tried to answer, but his breath caught.

Because he slammed into me hard.

I gasped.

He scrambled for composure. “Y-yeah. Sorry. Just… headache.”

He laughed against my neck.

She frowned, “Should I let you go?”

I shook my head.

“No,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “Stay on.”

(To be continued…)

Sunday morning at her house.

She’d sent a text that morning with bare legs on a deck chair, sunglasses too big for her face, and the text:  “Wish you were here 🩵”

I stared at it from her bed.

Her sheets.

Wearing her tank top.

His cum still drying on my thigh.

It had been quiet all morning.

He’d made coffee in just his boxers. I’d followed him around like a shadow. He touched me constantly. Couldn’t help it. Brushed my ass when I passed. Squeezed my tits while I leaned into the fridge. Bit my neck while I tried to pour creamer.

We didn’t talk about her.

We never really did.

But we both knew we were playing with fire.

And that made it so much better.

Around 10AM, her name lit up his phone.

“Can we call?”

I looked up at him. He was already watching me.

“You gonna answer that?” I asked, low, lazy.

He nodded.

And pulled the blanket up over my lap to hide how wet I already was.

“I miss you,” she pouted.

She was talking, but he wasn’t hearing her.

Because under the blanket, his hand was already sliding between my legs.

I widened them instinctively, biting the inside of my cheek while she rambled about her sister being late and how the Airbnb smelled like lavender.

His fingers dipped into my folds, already soaked. He smirked without even looking at me, just dragging them through my slit... slow and deliberate before pressing two fingers inside.

My legs jerked.

He curled his fingers.

I moaned.

Barely. A soft breath through my nose. But she heard it.

“Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks flushing. “Mm-hmm. Just missing you.”

He leaned closer, his lips and tongue on the side of my neck.

“Put the phone on the pillow,” I whispered.

He did.

She was still talking.

Still completely unaware.

He moved between my legs like it was his right.

Blanket half-draped over us. Me biting my lip. The call still active.

She was laughing about something now. Her sister, maybe. I couldn’t focus.

Because he was spreading me open.

And then I felt it.

The blunt heat of his cock pressing against my entrance.

I whimpered.

“Shh,” he whispered. “She’s right there.”

And then he pushed in.

It took everything in me not to scream.

He was so deep so fast... stretching me open under the blanket, under the screen, under her.

I gripped the mattress.

The phone was still on.

Her voice still floating from the speaker.

He started fucking me.

Slow, long strokes. The kind that made your whole body tighten just waiting for more.

My pussy was drenched. Slick. No resistance. He was gliding in and out of me like we were made for this.

Her voice kept going.

“I wish you could see the view,” she said. “I’ll show you later.”

He nodded dumbly and managed to say something barely audible in response.

My mouth fell open.

He thrusted deeper.

I bit the pillow.

She paused. “You’re really quiet.”

He tried to answer, but his breath caught.

Because he slammed into me hard.

I gasped.

He scrambled for composure. “Y-yeah. Sorry. Just… headache.”

He laughed against my neck.

She frowned, “Should I let you go?”

I shook my head.

“No,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “Stay on.”

(To be continued…)

Sunday morning at her house.

She’d sent a text that morning with bare legs on a deck chair, sunglasses too big for her face, and the text:  “Wish you were here 🩵”

I stared at it from her bed.

Her sheets.

Wearing her tank top.

His cum still drying on my thigh.

It had been quiet all morning.

He’d made coffee in just his boxers. I’d followed him around like a shadow. He touched me constantly. Couldn’t help it. Brushed my ass when I passed. Squeezed my tits while I leaned into the fridge. Bit my neck while I tried to pour creamer.

We didn’t talk about her.

We never really did.

But we both knew we were playing with fire.

And that made it so much better.

Around 10AM, her name lit up his phone.

“Can we call?”

I looked up at him. He was already watching me.

“You gonna answer that?” I asked, low, lazy.

He nodded.

And pulled the blanket up over my lap to hide how wet I already was.

“I miss you,” she pouted.

She was talking, but he wasn’t hearing her.

Because under the blanket, his hand was already sliding between my legs.

I widened them instinctively, biting the inside of my cheek while she rambled about her sister being late and how the Airbnb smelled like lavender.

His fingers dipped into my folds, already soaked. He smirked without even looking at me, just dragging them through my slit... slow and deliberate before pressing two fingers inside.

My legs jerked.

He curled his fingers.

I moaned.

Barely. A soft breath through my nose. But she heard it.

“Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks flushing. “Mm-hmm. Just missing you.”

He leaned closer, his lips and tongue on the side of my neck.

“Put the phone on the pillow,” I whispered.

He did.

She was still talking.

Still completely unaware.

He moved between my legs like it was his right.

Blanket half-draped over us. Me biting my lip. The call still active.

She was laughing about something now. Her sister, maybe. I couldn’t focus.

Because he was spreading me open.

And then I felt it.

The blunt heat of his cock pressing against my entrance.

I whimpered.

“Shh,” he whispered. “She’s right there.”

And then he pushed in.

It took everything in me not to scream.

He was so deep so fast... stretching me open under the blanket, under the screen, under her.

I gripped the mattress.

The phone was still on.

Her voice still floating from the speaker.

He started fucking me.

Slow, long strokes. The kind that made your whole body tighten just waiting for more.

My pussy was drenched. Slick. No resistance. He was gliding in and out of me like we were made for this.

Her voice kept going.

“I wish you could see the view,” she said. “I’ll show you later.”

He nodded dumbly and managed to say something barely audible in response.

My mouth fell open.

He thrusted deeper.

I bit the pillow.

She paused. “You’re really quiet.”

He tried to answer, but his breath caught.

Because he slammed into me hard.

I gasped.

He scrambled for composure. “Y-yeah. Sorry. Just… headache.”

He laughed against my neck.

She frowned, “Should I let you go?”

I shook my head.

“No,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “Stay on.”

(To be continued…)

The sheets were still damp.

I hadn’t moved since.

Neither had he.

His hand was wrapped around my throat. Not tight. Just there. Fingers resting in the hollow of my neck like he wanted to remind me who I belonged to.

And he was still inside me.

Not moving. Not thrusting. Just deep.

So deep I could feel the throb of him when I clenched.

I was on my stomach, legs parted lazily, one knee bent, cheek buried in her pillow that still smelled like her conditioner. His body draped over mine with his chest against my back, mouth against my ear, cock still buried in the same pussy he came in hours ago.

I hadn’t even cleaned up.

Neither had he.

We’d fallen asleep like that. Fucked out. Sweaty. Sticky. Him still inside me like I was his favorite toy and he wasn’t done playing.

The sun had barely risen.

And that’s when her name lit up his phone on the nightstand.

I blinked, half-dazed. “Is that her?”

He reached for it.

Didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even pause.

He answered.

“Hey baby,” she whispered.

He shifted inside me slightly with just a nudge and I sucked in a breath.

My pussy was soaked. Still stretched from him. Still full of him. And now she was on speaker.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked, voice soft.

He chuckled. “Nah. Just woke up.”

He thrust once.

Hard.

I choked on a moan and buried my face in her pillow.

“Sounded like something,” she said.

He looked at me, smirking. “Just stretching.”

I felt his cock throb as he said it.

She started talking... about breakfast, about her sister wanting to go kayaking, about how cold the hotel room was.

And he started moving.

Slow. Deliberate. Sliding his cock in and out of me in the tiniest thrusts, just enough to make my legs shake.

I was soaking the sheets under me. Fingers gripping her pillow. Trying so hard not to make a sound.

But he didn’t stop.

He just kept fucking me while she talked.

“I miss you,” she said.

His hand moved between my thighs. Found my clit. Pressed.

“I miss you too,” he said, pushing deep and staying there.

My body convulsed.

I bit her pillow to muffle the cry as I came... silently, violently with my legs trembling, pussy fluttering around his cock as he stayed buried inside me like he owned me.

She didn’t even notice.

She kept talking.

He waited until I was done.

Then pulled out.

And dragged me up onto his lap.

I straddled him, thighs still slick, knees planted on either side of his hips.

He guided me back down, sliding inside me… and I moaned into his shoulder as he stretched me open again.

“She’s still sleeping,” she said on the phone. “My sister. Snores like a bear.”

He fucked up into me once. Deep.

“She’s not the only one who snores,” he joked, looking me dead in the eye.

I clenched around him on purpose. Just to tease. Just to make it harder for him to stay still.

His grip tightened on my hips.

I started riding him.

Slow. Rocking my hips like I didn’t care if she heard the headboard tapping gently behind me.

He held the phone like it was nothing.

Kept talking to her like he wasn’t buried balls-deep in his dirty little secret.

I leaned into the speaker. Kissed his neck. Licked it. Moaned softly just enough to be a noise, but not a word.

I sped up.

Bounced on him harder. Her sheets slipping under me. The slap of skin starting to echo a little louder now. My ass bouncing, tits brushing his chest with every rock of my hips.

His hand wrapped in my hair.

I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet, pussy sucking him back in every time he slipped out just slightly.

She sighed on the call. “Can’t wait to be home.”

He ended the call.

And slammed into me.

What followed wasn’t slow.

It was rough.

He flipped me over, bent me in half, fucked me into the mattress so hard I thought the bed would break.

Pillows flew.

Sheets tangled.

Her perfume still clung to the fabric as I screamed into it.

He pounded me with everything he had… loud, sweaty, filthy... the kind of fucking that made your brain go numb and your throat raw from gasping.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t ask.

Just grunted, “You’re gonna take it,” as he slammed one last time and came deep.

I felt it fill me.

Felt it drip down my thighs before he even pulled out.

And I loved it.

I collapsed.

He kissed my spine.

We didn’t speak for minutes.

His phone dinged with a text from her.

“Hey…” she said, “was that… was someone with you?”

He smiled. 

“No one,” he replied.

And I smiled too.

The sheets were still damp.

I hadn’t moved since.

Neither had he.

His hand was wrapped around my throat. Not tight. Just there. Fingers resting in the hollow of my neck like he wanted to remind me who I belonged to.

And he was still inside me.

Not moving. Not thrusting. Just deep.

So deep I could feel the throb of him when I clenched.

I was on my stomach, legs parted lazily, one knee bent, cheek buried in her pillow that still smelled like her conditioner. His body draped over mine with his chest against my back, mouth against my ear, cock still buried in the same pussy he came in hours ago.

I hadn’t even cleaned up.

Neither had he.

We’d fallen asleep like that. Fucked out. Sweaty. Sticky. Him still inside me like I was his favorite toy and he wasn’t done playing.

The sun had barely risen.

And that’s when her name lit up his phone on the nightstand.

I blinked, half-dazed. “Is that her?”

He reached for it.

Didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even pause.

He answered.

“Hey baby,” she whispered.

He shifted inside me slightly with just a nudge and I sucked in a breath.

My pussy was soaked. Still stretched from him. Still full of him. And now she was on speaker.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked, voice soft.

He chuckled. “Nah. Just woke up.”

He thrust once.

Hard.

I choked on a moan and buried my face in her pillow.

“Sounded like something,” she said.

He looked at me, smirking. “Just stretching.”

I felt his cock throb as he said it.

She started talking... about breakfast, about her sister wanting to go kayaking, about how cold the hotel room was.

And he started moving.

Slow. Deliberate. Sliding his cock in and out of me in the tiniest thrusts, just enough to make my legs shake.

I was soaking the sheets under me. Fingers gripping her pillow. Trying so hard not to make a sound.

But he didn’t stop.

He just kept fucking me while she talked.

“I miss you,” she said.

His hand moved between my thighs. Found my clit. Pressed.

“I miss you too,” he said, pushing deep and staying there.

My body convulsed.

I bit her pillow to muffle the cry as I came... silently, violently with my legs trembling, pussy fluttering around his cock as he stayed buried inside me like he owned me.

She didn’t even notice.

She kept talking.

He waited until I was done.

Then pulled out.

And dragged me up onto his lap.

I straddled him, thighs still slick, knees planted on either side of his hips.

He guided me back down, sliding inside me… and I moaned into his shoulder as he stretched me open again.

“She’s still sleeping,” she said on the phone. “My sister. Snores like a bear.”

He fucked up into me once. Deep.

“She’s not the only one who snores,” he joked, looking me dead in the eye.

I clenched around him on purpose. Just to tease. Just to make it harder for him to stay still.

His grip tightened on my hips.

I started riding him.

Slow. Rocking my hips like I didn’t care if she heard the headboard tapping gently behind me.

He held the phone like it was nothing.

Kept talking to her like he wasn’t buried balls-deep in his dirty little secret.

I leaned into the speaker. Kissed his neck. Licked it. Moaned softly just enough to be a noise, but not a word.

I sped up.

Bounced on him harder. Her sheets slipping under me. The slap of skin starting to echo a little louder now. My ass bouncing, tits brushing his chest with every rock of my hips.

His hand wrapped in my hair.

I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet, pussy sucking him back in every time he slipped out just slightly.

She sighed on the call. “Can’t wait to be home.”

He ended the call.

And slammed into me.

What followed wasn’t slow.

It was rough.

He flipped me over, bent me in half, fucked me into the mattress so hard I thought the bed would break.

Pillows flew.

Sheets tangled.

Her perfume still clung to the fabric as I screamed into it.

He pounded me with everything he had… loud, sweaty, filthy... the kind of fucking that made your brain go numb and your throat raw from gasping.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t ask.

Just grunted, “You’re gonna take it,” as he slammed one last time and came deep.

I felt it fill me.

Felt it drip down my thighs before he even pulled out.

And I loved it.

I collapsed.

He kissed my spine.

We didn’t speak for minutes.

His phone dinged with a text from her.

“Hey…” she said, “was that… was someone with you?”

He smiled. 

“No one,” he replied.

And I smiled too.

The sheets were still damp.

I hadn’t moved since.

Neither had he.

His hand was wrapped around my throat. Not tight. Just there. Fingers resting in the hollow of my neck like he wanted to remind me who I belonged to.

And he was still inside me.

Not moving. Not thrusting. Just deep.

So deep I could feel the throb of him when I clenched.

I was on my stomach, legs parted lazily, one knee bent, cheek buried in her pillow that still smelled like her conditioner. His body draped over mine with his chest against my back, mouth against my ear, cock still buried in the same pussy he came in hours ago.

I hadn’t even cleaned up.

Neither had he.

We’d fallen asleep like that. Fucked out. Sweaty. Sticky. Him still inside me like I was his favorite toy and he wasn’t done playing.

The sun had barely risen.

And that’s when her name lit up his phone on the nightstand.

I blinked, half-dazed. “Is that her?”

He reached for it.

Didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even pause.

He answered.

“Hey baby,” she whispered.

He shifted inside me slightly with just a nudge and I sucked in a breath.

My pussy was soaked. Still stretched from him. Still full of him. And now she was on speaker.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked, voice soft.

He chuckled. “Nah. Just woke up.”

He thrust once.

Hard.

I choked on a moan and buried my face in her pillow.

“Sounded like something,” she said.

He looked at me, smirking. “Just stretching.”

I felt his cock throb as he said it.

She started talking... about breakfast, about her sister wanting to go kayaking, about how cold the hotel room was.

And he started moving.

Slow. Deliberate. Sliding his cock in and out of me in the tiniest thrusts, just enough to make my legs shake.

I was soaking the sheets under me. Fingers gripping her pillow. Trying so hard not to make a sound.

But he didn’t stop.

He just kept fucking me while she talked.

“I miss you,” she said.

His hand moved between my thighs. Found my clit. Pressed.

“I miss you too,” he said, pushing deep and staying there.

My body convulsed.

I bit her pillow to muffle the cry as I came... silently, violently with my legs trembling, pussy fluttering around his cock as he stayed buried inside me like he owned me.

She didn’t even notice.

She kept talking.

He waited until I was done.

Then pulled out.

And dragged me up onto his lap.

I straddled him, thighs still slick, knees planted on either side of his hips.

He guided me back down, sliding inside me… and I moaned into his shoulder as he stretched me open again.

“She’s still sleeping,” she said on the phone. “My sister. Snores like a bear.”

He fucked up into me once. Deep.

“She’s not the only one who snores,” he joked, looking me dead in the eye.

I clenched around him on purpose. Just to tease. Just to make it harder for him to stay still.

His grip tightened on my hips.

I started riding him.

Slow. Rocking my hips like I didn’t care if she heard the headboard tapping gently behind me.

He held the phone like it was nothing.

Kept talking to her like he wasn’t buried balls-deep in his dirty little secret.

I leaned into the speaker. Kissed his neck. Licked it. Moaned softly just enough to be a noise, but not a word.

I sped up.

Bounced on him harder. Her sheets slipping under me. The slap of skin starting to echo a little louder now. My ass bouncing, tits brushing his chest with every rock of my hips.

His hand wrapped in my hair.

I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet, pussy sucking him back in every time he slipped out just slightly.

She sighed on the call. “Can’t wait to be home.”

He ended the call.

And slammed into me.

What followed wasn’t slow.

It was rough.

He flipped me over, bent me in half, fucked me into the mattress so hard I thought the bed would break.

Pillows flew.

Sheets tangled.

Her perfume still clung to the fabric as I screamed into it.

He pounded me with everything he had… loud, sweaty, filthy... the kind of fucking that made your brain go numb and your throat raw from gasping.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t ask.

Just grunted, “You’re gonna take it,” as he slammed one last time and came deep.

I felt it fill me.

Felt it drip down my thighs before he even pulled out.

And I loved it.

I collapsed.

He kissed my spine.

We didn’t speak for minutes.

His phone dinged with a text from her.

“Hey…” she said, “was that… was someone with you?”

He smiled. 

“No one,” he replied.

And I smiled too.

The sheets were still damp.

I hadn’t moved since.

Neither had he.

His hand was wrapped around my throat. Not tight. Just there. Fingers resting in the hollow of my neck like he wanted to remind me who I belonged to.

And he was still inside me.

Not moving. Not thrusting. Just deep.

So deep I could feel the throb of him when I clenched.

I was on my stomach, legs parted lazily, one knee bent, cheek buried in her pillow that still smelled like her conditioner. His body draped over mine with his chest against my back, mouth against my ear, cock still buried in the same pussy he came in hours ago.

I hadn’t even cleaned up.

Neither had he.

We’d fallen asleep like that. Fucked out. Sweaty. Sticky. Him still inside me like I was his favorite toy and he wasn’t done playing.

The sun had barely risen.

And that’s when her name lit up his phone on the nightstand.

I blinked, half-dazed. “Is that her?”

He reached for it.

Didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even pause.

He answered.

“Hey baby,” she whispered.

He shifted inside me slightly with just a nudge and I sucked in a breath.

My pussy was soaked. Still stretched from him. Still full of him. And now she was on speaker.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked, voice soft.

He chuckled. “Nah. Just woke up.”

He thrust once.

Hard.

I choked on a moan and buried my face in her pillow.

“Sounded like something,” she said.

He looked at me, smirking. “Just stretching.”

I felt his cock throb as he said it.

She started talking... about breakfast, about her sister wanting to go kayaking, about how cold the hotel room was.

And he started moving.

Slow. Deliberate. Sliding his cock in and out of me in the tiniest thrusts, just enough to make my legs shake.

I was soaking the sheets under me. Fingers gripping her pillow. Trying so hard not to make a sound.

But he didn’t stop.

He just kept fucking me while she talked.

“I miss you,” she said.

His hand moved between my thighs. Found my clit. Pressed.

“I miss you too,” he said, pushing deep and staying there.

My body convulsed.

I bit her pillow to muffle the cry as I came... silently, violently with my legs trembling, pussy fluttering around his cock as he stayed buried inside me like he owned me.

She didn’t even notice.

She kept talking.

He waited until I was done.

Then pulled out.

And dragged me up onto his lap.

I straddled him, thighs still slick, knees planted on either side of his hips.

He guided me back down, sliding inside me… and I moaned into his shoulder as he stretched me open again.

“She’s still sleeping,” she said on the phone. “My sister. Snores like a bear.”

He fucked up into me once. Deep.

“She’s not the only one who snores,” he joked, looking me dead in the eye.

I clenched around him on purpose. Just to tease. Just to make it harder for him to stay still.

His grip tightened on my hips.

I started riding him.

Slow. Rocking my hips like I didn’t care if she heard the headboard tapping gently behind me.

He held the phone like it was nothing.

Kept talking to her like he wasn’t buried balls-deep in his dirty little secret.

I leaned into the speaker. Kissed his neck. Licked it. Moaned softly just enough to be a noise, but not a word.

I sped up.

Bounced on him harder. Her sheets slipping under me. The slap of skin starting to echo a little louder now. My ass bouncing, tits brushing his chest with every rock of my hips.

His hand wrapped in my hair.

I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet, pussy sucking him back in every time he slipped out just slightly.

She sighed on the call. “Can’t wait to be home.”

He ended the call.

And slammed into me.

What followed wasn’t slow.

It was rough.

He flipped me over, bent me in half, fucked me into the mattress so hard I thought the bed would break.

Pillows flew.

Sheets tangled.

Her perfume still clung to the fabric as I screamed into it.

He pounded me with everything he had… loud, sweaty, filthy... the kind of fucking that made your brain go numb and your throat raw from gasping.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t ask.

Just grunted, “You’re gonna take it,” as he slammed one last time and came deep.

I felt it fill me.

Felt it drip down my thighs before he even pulled out.

And I loved it.

I collapsed.

He kissed my spine.

We didn’t speak for minutes.

His phone dinged with a text from her.

“Hey…” she said, “was that… was someone with you?”

He smiled. 

“No one,” he replied.

And I smiled too.

More “miss you” texts with no idea what I was doing in her house...

It was around 10pm when she called.

A sleepy video call, just to check in. She looked cute... messy bun, oversized tee, sitting cross-legged on the bed next to her sister with one hand covering her face on the screen so he wouldn’t “see her without makeup.”

We were in the kitchen. Getting drinks. Not saying a word.

“I’ll be back Monday,” she yawned. “Probably late.”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of everything.”

I went into the other room and sat on the couch, grabbing her favorite blanket.

I felt his shadow behind me before I saw him.

The couch dipped. His thigh brushed mine.

She kept talking... rambling about something her sister said during dinner, laughing softly and he smiled, nodding like he was listening, even as his hand slid up under the blanket over my lap.

He knew what this was.

What it had become.

He was already hard by the time I pulled the blanket higher and angled the camera just enough to hide what I was doing below with my other hand.

I tugged at the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down just enough while he kept his eyes locked on me as I fished out his cock... thick, heavy, hard. I wrapped my fingers around it slowly, stroking him as she kept talking about the beach view from her room.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe.

“So pretty,” she said. “You’d love it.”

I licked my lips and smiled and whispered, “I bet I would.”

His cock twitched in my hand.

She had no idea.

I leaned down slowly. Quietly. Careful not to let the camera shake too much.

He spread his legs for me, breathing shallow now, eyes flicking from me to the screen as I took the head of his cock between my lips.

I sucked it gently… slow and wet, just the tip... swirling my tongue while I stared up at him with wide, obedient eyes.

She was still talking.

Still clueless.

I moaned around him. Soft. Delicate. Like a secret hum into the phone speaker.

“You okay?” she asked, blinking.

He swallowed, smiling sweetly. “Mmhmm. Just cold. Curled up under the blanket.” He pulled the blanket up into view of the camera for her to see.

He reached down and tangled his fingers in my hair, guiding me back down again.

This time, I took more of him. Let him hit the back of my throat. Let myself drool a little, wetting his cock so it slipped easier between my lips.

His breathing was tight now. Quiet. One hand covering his mouth as I sucked him slow and deep under the camera frame.

She was looking away. Talking to her sister. Not watching.

I used that moment.

I bobbed my head faster. Stroking the base with one hand, the other cradling his balls gently as I took him deeper with every glide. Letting my spit coat his shaft. Letting soft, messy sounds slip out between my lips just loud enough for him to hear.

He grunted once. Too loud.

She looked back.

“You okay?” she asked again, tilting her head.

“Just a cramp.” he replied.

She smiled at the camera, blowing him a kiss. “I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

I popped my mouth off his cock just long enough to say, “Sweet dreams.” quietly.

She hung up.

And the second the call ended…

“Get on your knees.”

His voice was rough. Commanding. Dangerous.

I dropped off the couch and slid between his legs, pushing the blanket off now, nothing to hide.

He looked down at me, eyes wild. “Open your mouth.”

I obeyed.

And he fucked my throat like it was his.

No more slow teasing. No more hiding.

He held the back of my head and thrust into my mouth hard, again and again, groaning as I took every inch, my mascara already smudging from the force.

I gagged on him. Drooled. Let him use me.

Because I wanted to be used.

Because she was gone.

Because this was ours now.

When he finally came, it was deep in my throat... hot, heavy, pouring down as he held me there, shaking, moaning my name like a prayer.

I swallowed it all.

Licked him clean.

And looked up, mouth open, tongue out, like the needy little secret I was.

He pulled me up onto the couch again. Kissed me filthy. Tasting himself on my tongue.

More “miss you” texts with no idea what I was doing in her house...

It was around 10pm when she called.

A sleepy video call, just to check in. She looked cute... messy bun, oversized tee, sitting cross-legged on the bed next to her sister with one hand covering her face on the screen so he wouldn’t “see her without makeup.”

We were in the kitchen. Getting drinks. Not saying a word.

“I’ll be back Monday,” she yawned. “Probably late.”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of everything.”

I went into the other room and sat on the couch, grabbing her favorite blanket.

I felt his shadow behind me before I saw him.

The couch dipped. His thigh brushed mine.

She kept talking... rambling about something her sister said during dinner, laughing softly and he smiled, nodding like he was listening, even as his hand slid up under the blanket over my lap.

He knew what this was.

What it had become.

He was already hard by the time I pulled the blanket higher and angled the camera just enough to hide what I was doing below with my other hand.

I tugged at the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down just enough while he kept his eyes locked on me as I fished out his cock... thick, heavy, hard. I wrapped my fingers around it slowly, stroking him as she kept talking about the beach view from her room.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe.

“So pretty,” she said. “You’d love it.”

I licked my lips and smiled and whispered, “I bet I would.”

His cock twitched in my hand.

She had no idea.

I leaned down slowly. Quietly. Careful not to let the camera shake too much.

He spread his legs for me, breathing shallow now, eyes flicking from me to the screen as I took the head of his cock between my lips.

I sucked it gently… slow and wet, just the tip... swirling my tongue while I stared up at him with wide, obedient eyes.

She was still talking.

Still clueless.

I moaned around him. Soft. Delicate. Like a secret hum into the phone speaker.

“You okay?” she asked, blinking.

He swallowed, smiling sweetly. “Mmhmm. Just cold. Curled up under the blanket.” He pulled the blanket up into view of the camera for her to see.

He reached down and tangled his fingers in my hair, guiding me back down again.

This time, I took more of him. Let him hit the back of my throat. Let myself drool a little, wetting his cock so it slipped easier between my lips.

His breathing was tight now. Quiet. One hand covering his mouth as I sucked him slow and deep under the camera frame.

She was looking away. Talking to her sister. Not watching.

I used that moment.

I bobbed my head faster. Stroking the base with one hand, the other cradling his balls gently as I took him deeper with every glide. Letting my spit coat his shaft. Letting soft, messy sounds slip out between my lips just loud enough for him to hear.

He grunted once. Too loud.

She looked back.

“You okay?” she asked again, tilting her head.

“Just a cramp.” he replied.

She smiled at the camera, blowing him a kiss. “I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

I popped my mouth off his cock just long enough to say, “Sweet dreams.” quietly.

She hung up.

And the second the call ended…

“Get on your knees.”

His voice was rough. Commanding. Dangerous.

I dropped off the couch and slid between his legs, pushing the blanket off now, nothing to hide.

He looked down at me, eyes wild. “Open your mouth.”

I obeyed.

And he fucked my throat like it was his.

No more slow teasing. No more hiding.

He held the back of my head and thrust into my mouth hard, again and again, groaning as I took every inch, my mascara already smudging from the force.

I gagged on him. Drooled. Let him use me.

Because I wanted to be used.

Because she was gone.

Because this was ours now.

When he finally came, it was deep in my throat... hot, heavy, pouring down as he held me there, shaking, moaning my name like a prayer.

I swallowed it all.

Licked him clean.

And looked up, mouth open, tongue out, like the needy little secret I was.

He pulled me up onto the couch again. Kissed me filthy. Tasting himself on my tongue.

More “miss you” texts with no idea what I was doing in her house...

It was around 10pm when she called.

A sleepy video call, just to check in. She looked cute... messy bun, oversized tee, sitting cross-legged on the bed next to her sister with one hand covering her face on the screen so he wouldn’t “see her without makeup.”

We were in the kitchen. Getting drinks. Not saying a word.

“I’ll be back Monday,” she yawned. “Probably late.”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of everything.”

I went into the other room and sat on the couch, grabbing her favorite blanket.

I felt his shadow behind me before I saw him.

The couch dipped. His thigh brushed mine.

She kept talking... rambling about something her sister said during dinner, laughing softly and he smiled, nodding like he was listening, even as his hand slid up under the blanket over my lap.

He knew what this was.

What it had become.

He was already hard by the time I pulled the blanket higher and angled the camera just enough to hide what I was doing below with my other hand.

I tugged at the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down just enough while he kept his eyes locked on me as I fished out his cock... thick, heavy, hard. I wrapped my fingers around it slowly, stroking him as she kept talking about the beach view from her room.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe.

“So pretty,” she said. “You’d love it.”

I licked my lips and smiled and whispered, “I bet I would.”

His cock twitched in my hand.

She had no idea.

I leaned down slowly. Quietly. Careful not to let the camera shake too much.

He spread his legs for me, breathing shallow now, eyes flicking from me to the screen as I took the head of his cock between my lips.

I sucked it gently… slow and wet, just the tip... swirling my tongue while I stared up at him with wide, obedient eyes.

She was still talking.

Still clueless.

I moaned around him. Soft. Delicate. Like a secret hum into the phone speaker.

“You okay?” she asked, blinking.

He swallowed, smiling sweetly. “Mmhmm. Just cold. Curled up under the blanket.” He pulled the blanket up into view of the camera for her to see.

He reached down and tangled his fingers in my hair, guiding me back down again.

This time, I took more of him. Let him hit the back of my throat. Let myself drool a little, wetting his cock so it slipped easier between my lips.

His breathing was tight now. Quiet. One hand covering his mouth as I sucked him slow and deep under the camera frame.

She was looking away. Talking to her sister. Not watching.

I used that moment.

I bobbed my head faster. Stroking the base with one hand, the other cradling his balls gently as I took him deeper with every glide. Letting my spit coat his shaft. Letting soft, messy sounds slip out between my lips just loud enough for him to hear.

He grunted once. Too loud.

She looked back.

“You okay?” she asked again, tilting her head.

“Just a cramp.” he replied.

She smiled at the camera, blowing him a kiss. “I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

I popped my mouth off his cock just long enough to say, “Sweet dreams.” quietly.

She hung up.

And the second the call ended…

“Get on your knees.”

His voice was rough. Commanding. Dangerous.

I dropped off the couch and slid between his legs, pushing the blanket off now, nothing to hide.

He looked down at me, eyes wild. “Open your mouth.”

I obeyed.

And he fucked my throat like it was his.

No more slow teasing. No more hiding.

He held the back of my head and thrust into my mouth hard, again and again, groaning as I took every inch, my mascara already smudging from the force.

I gagged on him. Drooled. Let him use me.

Because I wanted to be used.

Because she was gone.

Because this was ours now.

When he finally came, it was deep in my throat... hot, heavy, pouring down as he held me there, shaking, moaning my name like a prayer.

I swallowed it all.

Licked him clean.

And looked up, mouth open, tongue out, like the needy little secret I was.

He pulled me up onto the couch again. Kissed me filthy. Tasting himself on my tongue.