Matt:

Her pussy had clamped down around me like a vice, her entire body locking up, thighs trembling, hips jerking back into me. It was violent. It was fucking gorgeous.

My thighs burned. My abs were tight. Sweat dripped from my forehead onto her spine. I was so deep inside her I could feel every flutter of her orgasm, every clench, every aftershock.

I’d never seen anything more erotic in my life.

But fuck, I was slowing down.

I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep going until we passed out. But my legs were starting to shake, every muscle tight, lungs burning. My thrusts stayed deep, hard, but slower now, grinding into her, not pounding, dragging the tip against that perfect spot with every stroke.

She groaned under me, raw and spent, but still moving, hips pushing back into mine. She didn’t want it to stop either. My hands slid up her sides, over the swell of her stomach, I cupped one of her breasts in my palm, squeezed gently, watched her shiver.

Kaite:

He was slowing down.

I felt it in the way his rhythm lost that sharp edge, still deep, still hard, but dragging now, like his body was giving out even though his need hadn’t.

So I took over. I groaned as I shifted forward, pulling myself slowly off his cock. He grunted, breath catching, but didn’t fight it, just collapsed back onto the bed, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.

I climbed over him, one leg at a time, planting my knees to either side of his hips, his cock slick and flushed between us. Then I turned, belly swaying as I eased into a reverse cowgirl position, arching forward on all fours as I reached back to guide him back inside me.

He moaned, deep and low, as I sank onto him again. I started with a slow rock of my hips, a lazy grind, milking him while my hands pressed into the mattress, my hair sticking to the back of my neck, both of us soaked in sweat.

His hands came up, wrapping around my waist, then sliding up to my belly. His palms spread across the curve, thumbs stroking the skin, like he was worshipping the weight of it. 

His fingers moved lower, tracing the spot just above where he disappeared into me, and I gasped. I rolled my hips harder, slower, grinding into him with long, deep strokes. My thighs burned. My stomach rippled with effort. Every nerve in my body was alive, overstimulated, oversensitive, but begging for more.

And the way he looked at me, sprawled beneath me, eyes glassy, mouth open, hands holding me like I was his whole world, made me feel like a goddess.

I rode him slow, not lazy, not teasing, just deep. My thighs ached, my belly felt heavy and tight, but I couldn’t stop. Every motion dragged his cock along every sensitive spot inside me, and I could feel the orgasm building again, this one slower, thicker, molten.

Matt groaned beneath me, his hands locked around my waist, his thumbs stroking the underside of my belly like he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Just like that,” he breathed. “Fuck, Katie, keep going.”

Grinding harder, slower, letting the friction build with each stroke, every nerve inside me coiling tighter. My moans came softer this time, less screaming, more desperate whimpers, breath catching with every grind. My body was trembling. He was twitching inside me.

“Matt.” I gasped, rocking down on him, back arching. “I’m, I’m gonna...”

He groaned like he was in pain. “I know. Cum for me.”

The second the words left his mouth, my body snapped. My orgasm ripped through me like a slow-moving fire, long, hot, overwhelming. I gasped, clenched, milked him with my body as I shook above him, legs giving out as I kept grinding, barely able to keep upright.

He cursed, loud and hoarse, and suddenly grabbed my hips, pulling me off him fast.

“*Fuck, Katie! I can’t, not inside!”

Matt pulled out of me fast, breath catching, as I fell back onto the bed, lying on my back, hair stuck to my face, breasts full and heavy, my pregnant belly slick with sweat and still pulsing from aftershocks.

I spread my legs wider, letting my knees fall open. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t have to. My body said it all. Cum. Take it. Finish on me.

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, already stroking himself, hand flying over his cock slick with both of us. His eyes never left me, my breasts, the soft rise of my stomach, the slight curve of my hips.

I reached down and spread myself with one hand, just enough to show him how soaked I still was. He groaned like I’d punched the air out of him.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, hand jerking faster. 

“Do it,” I whispered, locking eyes with him. “I want it. Right here.” I ran my other hand over the curve of my belly. "Mark me."

He growled, animal, desperate, and in the next second, he came hard.

Thick ropes of cum painted my stomach, spurting high, landing hot across my skin, pooling in my navel, dripping over the swell of me. He groaned loud, like it had been ripped out of him, hips jerking as his orgasm wracked through him.

His cum was hot on my skin, slowly sliding down my belly, trailing between my breasts. His hand slowed, then stopped, his chest heaving.

He looked ruined. And so, so satisfied. “Holy shit,” he said, voice hoarse, eyes wide as he stared at what he’d done.

I looked down at myself, sticky, glowing, claimed, and smiled. “That’s better.”

My whole body buzzed, skin tingling, muscles twitching, heart still thudding in my chest like it didn’t believe it was over.

Matt hadn’t moved much. Just knelt there beside the bed, still breathing hard, eyes fixed on the mess he’d made, and I could see the way he loved it. The cum spread across my belly, the way it dripped over the curve of my stomach and pooled in the softest places.

And then he leaned in and began to lick it up again.

His tongue dragged over the soft slope of my belly, warm and slow, collecting everything he’d just spilt on me. He moaned softly as he tasted himself on my skin.

Then he crawled up, eyes locked on mine. His lips found mine before I could even breathe — soft at first, then deeper. His tongue slid into my mouth, slick with the taste of both of him. I moaned into him, tasting his cum as he shared it with me, filthy and intimate and so goddamn perfect.

I clutched at his shoulders, pulling him closer, drowning in the kiss.

Then, with a click, we heard the front door open.

Matt froze.

I pulled back, heart slamming into my throat.

Footsteps. A bag dropping. A voice, his voice.

“Babe? I’m home early. I managed to get an earlier train!”

Panic hit like cold water over scorched skin.

Matt’s eyes were wide, adrenaline suddenly pushing through the haze. He looked at me, still glowing with sweat, still covered in the fading evidence of everything we’d just done, which he hadn’t finished licking off.

The second I heard his voice, my whole body went cold. Matt moved fast.

He snatched his jeans off the floor, clutching his shirt in one hand, eyes darting toward the bedroom door.

“Closet,” I hissed.

He didn’t argue. Just bolted across the room and slipped inside, easing the door shut behind him without a sound. He was still half-naked, chest heaving, hair a mess. The air reeked of sex, sweat, and him.

I looked down at myself; my belly was glistening with a final smear of cum. No time for towels. I scooped it up with two fingers and, without thinking, brought it to my lips and licked them clean.

My heart was pounding. My thighs were still wet. And my husband’s footsteps were coming up the stairs. It wasn’t enough. I had no time to dress; the room still smelt like sex.

So I did the only thing I could.

I closed my eyes and slipped my fingers between my thighs. A soft moan escaped me before I could even fake it. My body was still buzzing, from what Matt had done to me. I slid two fingers over my clit, then deeper, pressing into the heat Matt had just owned.

I was soaked. The bedroom door opened. I gasped on cue, eyes flying open in mock surprise as my husband stepped into the doorway, suitcase still in one hand.

“Oh.” I breathed, fingers still inside me. “Shit, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He stared, frozen, eyes locked on the scene: me lying in bed, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, one hand between my legs still moving as he watched.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I whispered. “I’ve been so worked up lately. You know, hormones.”

His gaze softened instantly. Concerned. A little turned on.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Behind the closet door, I knew Matt was holding his breath.

Matt:

I stood in the closet, half-naked, sweat cooling on my skin, heart hammering in my throat. The slats in the closet door gave me just enough of a view, a sliver of light, a slice of the bed. Katie sprawled there, flushed and breathless, her legs still parted, her fingers glistening from where she’d been pretending to pleasure herself.

Her husband was smiling. “Poor thing,” he murmured, stepping closer, already tugging his shirt off. “I shouldn’t have left you alone this long.”

He dropped his pants, climbed onto the bed beside her, and leaned in to kiss her. I watched her mouth open, watched their lips meet, knowing she still had the taste of my cum on her tongue. My cock twitched, half-hard again despite the fire in my chest. But it seemed he didn’t notice.

He kissed down her neck, then between her breasts, hand sliding lower. She played it perfectly, a soft moan, a roll of her hips.

His fingers slipped between her thighs.

Katie lay back for him, patient, soft, playing the role so well I almost forgot what her body had looked like when it was bouncing on me. When she was truly eager.

I watched him touch her, touch what I’d just been inside of. Her body arched up into his hand. Her mouth fell open. Another moan.

And I had to clamp my palm over my mouth to keep from making a sound.

Because I wanted to fucking lose it. Not from rage. Not even from jealousy. But from how unbelievably hot it was, watching her lie there, after what we’d just done, while her husband unknowingly dipped his fingers into the aftermath.

She gasped. He smiled, leaned down, whispering something I couldn’t make out. She nodded, eyes fluttering shut.

My breath was ragged. My cock pulsed in the dark as he climbed between her legs, thrusting himself into her, like he had any idea what she really wanted. 

He didn’t. I could see it in her body. The way she tilted her hips toward him, not with passion, but with practiced patience. He was slow. Careful. Saying sweet things I couldn’t hear. His rhythm was steady, almost clinical, like he was trying not to hurt her. He didn’t seem to notice that tiny twitch of her jaw suggesting this wasn’t doing it for her. 

It was almost painful to watch.

He was slow, rhythmic, focused.

She looked bored.

And he didn’t seem to care when her hand slid between them down to her clit.

I did. From my narrow slit in the closet door, I watched her fingers move, fast, precise, urgent. And I could tell that her reactions, her moaning, were caused by her fingers, not by him. 

To anyone else, it might have looked romantic. Intimate. But I could see what was really happening.

She had already come. Twice. Maybe three times. Her body had been lit up under my hands, my mouth, my cock. And now? Her expression was distant. Her moans? Half-hearted.

Her fingers were doing the work.

She arched under him, thighs twitching, hand working faster as her other hand gripped the sheets. 

While I stood there in the shadows, watching, burning, remembering how her thighs had shaken around me. How she’d begged me for more. 

My cock twitched again. Harder.

She came, eventually. Quietly. More exhaustion than ecstasy. Her husband followed a minute later with a soft grunt, his body sagging over hers in relief.

I pressed my back to the wall of the closet and closed my eyes, trying not to breathe too loud.

I was still aching.

Still hard.

I heard him grunt as he pulled out of her. A soft kiss. A murmured, “Be right back,” and then the quiet thud of feet hitting the floor.

Bathroom door. Water running. Out of sight.

Katie moved fast.

The second he was out of the room, she sat up, not exhausted, not dazed, like she had been after her earlier orgasms, but sharp. She pulled open the door. I blinked in the sudden light, heart pounding so hard I thought it might give me away all over again.

“Come on,” she whispered.

I stepped out, still half hard, disoriented, yanking my shirt over my head and struggled with my jeans. My hands fumbled with the button as she pulled me toward the hallway. She moved fast, quietly, and efficiently. Her eyes were still wild. Lit up. 

We reached the front door. She leaned in for a kiss. Her hand cupped the back of my neck, her lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary, letting me feel her mouth before she pulled back. Her husband may have missed it, but I could still taste myself on her tongue.

“That was perfect,” she whispered, eyes locked on mine. “We’ll do it again.” Then she smiled, wicked and knowing, and gently pushed me out the door.