Page 4 of Midnight Curfew

Her soft skin, the curves of her hips and her breasts, the pink mouth, so plump…

Shooting up, I hover over her lips, her breath mixing with mine.

I whisper, “Give me your tongue, baby.”

She opens her mouth wider, and I flick her with my tongue, coaxing hers out. Her lips brush mine, slowly starting to feel me—play with me—and in a moment, I’m sinking onto her mouth in a kiss, my hips pumping hard and fast between her legs.

Breaking the kiss, I turn my head over my shoulder, grinning at her husband as I slip in and out of his wife. His eyelids hang heavy, watching me thrust, his cock straining against his pants.

“Pull him out,” I tell Rip.

My friend smiles and disappears. I rise up and flip the man’s wife over, lifting her onto all fours. Gripping a hip in one hand and her hair in another, I gather saliva in my mouth and spit it onto her ass, thrusting harder and harder.

I grit my teeth, pleasure coursing through my body. “Fuck, yeah.”

Hearing a zipper behind me, I glance over my shoulder again.

Mr. Coldwell’s hard dick stands free, and I bring my hand down on her ass, feeling her backing up into it as I fuck her.

“You got a week,” I tell him, stuffing his wife as sweat drips down my back. “Otherwise, I’m coming back with new guys and giving them a turn.” I smile. “After I take another one myself, of course.”

His head falls back a little, and I hear him moan as his shaft points to the ceiling. In a moment, his wife’s pussy constricts around my cock, pulsing, and she fists the pillows above her head, trembling.

“God, you’re wet,” I groan. “You want us to come back? Hm?”

She coos as her orgasm flows through her, and I turn to her husband again.

He yanks at the restraints, twisting his wrists, and my head floats so fucking high. I love him watching this more than I love the feel of her.

“You right- or left-handed?” I ask him.

Mr. Coldwell yanks his right arm, moaning through his gag.

I nod at Rip. “Free his right hand.”

My friend unbinds Coldwell’s right wrist, and the man doesn’t even think to remove the cloth around his mouth or try to loosen his other hand. He grabs his cock, watching his wife and me, and starts pumping it.

The pre-cum glistens out of the tip, lubricating his hand, and I turn back to her. Pushing her face down on the bed, I thrust once, twice, then again, feeling all of my blood gather in my groin until I’m gasping for air.

Closing my eyes, I shudder, sliding in and out of her, bursting, while I listen to her pathetic little husband jerk off to us.

Fuck…

I breathe hard, the orgasm coursing through me as I finish.

I don’t have time to catch my breath, though. Tyson climbs on the bed, shoving me. “My turn,” he growls, his condom already on.

I roll off the bed as he flips her back around, his mouth on hers as he pushes her knees apart and thrusts inside of her.

In a moment, he’s riding her hard, pushing her knee up next to her head with her second orgasm not far behind.

I crash down to a chair, laughing as I hear him go off. He could never hold it long once he sees a woman come.

Rip pulls her up next, facing her at the bottom of the bed on all fours. She watches her husband watch another man fuck her.

Mr. Coldwell comes on his stomach at some point, but while I stare at the scene on the bed, I’m no longer really watching.

The people who know me would say I’m selfish. That I don’t care once I’ve already had mine, but it’s all a performance. Sex always is.