Grace

 

My husband had set me on fire. I was burning up so hard I was shivering. Writhing in quicksand as the orgasm sucked me deep, but it was Thomas Heath with his fiery eyes who tugged me free.

I was still panting as he pulled me out from underneath my husband, lost to everything but the pulse of my pussy flooding all the way through me. My heart was secondary to my buzzing clit, my whole body governed by its new natural centre.

Dirty.

I was every bit as dirty as they were telling me, and I felt it. Knowing all too well that I would never be the same after this.

And neither would they. Not either of them.

In all my nights with my hand down my knickers, I’d never imagined this. The fantasy never came close to the reality of two hot bodies fighting silently over mine.

Brett was proud to bursting, regardless of the way his rival yanked me up onto him and encouraged me onto his solid dick. His smile was guarded but definite, his eyes eating us both up as I wriggled against another man’s body.

Heath was more and less than I’d dreamed, all at once. His body was every bit as ripped as I remembered, muscles undulating his skin with every shift of his hips up toward mine. His moves were as well crafted, his knowledge of my sweet spots impeccable. His tone was dark and dirty, yet satin enough to set me scorching. But he was losing his calm and I knew it. Despite having virtually no concrete evidence I could use with hard reason to support my verdict, I knew it.

It was in his flashing eyes, his delayed hiss of breath, the strain of his cocky smirk as he urged me faster on top.

Once again, it felt so wrong to be riding another man, but I took on a life of my own under my surface level reluctance, finding my beat up on top as my pussy cried for more.

I shouldn’t want more, not tonight, not even in a month from now. The fact I did was a revelation that spat through my veins, but that just goaded me onwards.

And there it was again, rocking underneath me with Heath’s hips. The need to conquer him enough to make him climax. I daren’t hope, daren’t even dream he was as close as I’d hoped he was just a short while earlier with his dick in my mouth. I couldn’t imagine the salty taste from his tip onto my tongue was anything more than wishful thinking as I’d swept my taste buds for more.

I pressed my palms to his chest, rolling my hips as I dropped down onto his full length. His knees came up to support my back, thighs tense behind me as my pussy slavered all over his crotch. I wasn’t expecting him to shunt me high and forward, not even for a moment. I was in full flow with his dick in my pussy when he set me off balance enough that the head of his cock pressed to my clenching asshole.

I wasn’t ready, but it didn’t matter, not to Heath. He grabbed my hips and pulled me lower, gritting his teeth as I grunted out loud with the strain.

“Give me that dirty little asshole,” he snarled up at me. “We all know you’re an anal-loving whore.”

I hated how his intimate knowledge made me bloom with self-consciousness, towering tall over him as I writhed to take him deep. It was so embarrassing, cutting me to my core that I was being such a slut for this filthy man.

But Brett didn’t care.

He was smirking harder than his rival when I flashed him a look, nodding in encouragement as I inched down onto Heath’s ramrod of a cock and let my ass loosen to take him.

“Do it,” Brett hissed. “Do it, Grace. Ride his dick like you fucking mean it.”

I did mean it. My groans were all real as I let my weight pull me down.

I’d expected this to be Brett in my ass. It made no sense in terms of logic, but it was him I pictured bucking up and under, his thumb on my clit to make me hiss louder. Having Brett watch me with Thomas was nothing like the last time around. There were no white knuckles and crappy red lines, no guilt at the strain my husband must be feeling to see me enjoying another man while he was rooted to the spot far beyond arm’s reach. Brett’s cock was hard and dark in his slow moving fingers, his gaze full of want as he watched me inching me down onto another man.

So I did it.

I took Thomas Heath in my ass like a wanton little bitch, far more desperate to see him unravel than I was to unravel myself.

I focused on his perfect features as I circled my hips and took him deep, forcing down my shyness and letting my natural instincts take over. I leaned forward with enough bravery that my fingers travelled up the fine ripples of his abs, dancing over his chest before coming to rest on his shoulders. And then I fucked him. Rode him slow and smooth. Rode him with everything I had as my pussy slicked up his skin. I closed my eyes and felt it all, every single tightening muscle underneath me, every move he made, every hiss of his breath as he pushed up to meet me.

My nerves were dithering deep, but my natural urges took over. I dropped to his chest without warning, my tits soft and sore against his firmness as I lay flat and raised my fingertips to his jaw. I didn’t kiss him. Couldn’t kiss him. His jaw was too firm, eyes too hard, but they didn’t stop me meeting his fierce glare with a smile. It came from the heart, a crazy flash of affection amidst the filthiness, and it must have touched something equally crazy within him, because he swallowed hard as his dick twitched inside me, and his eyes softened to meet mine right back.

It was all the encouragement I needed.

When my lips pressed to his they were gentle. My kiss was real. Genuine. Me.

The kiss that came back was nothing like I’d felt from him before. The fingers that took my hair and held me to him weren’t those of a man straining for supremacy, but straining for closeness. I’d have sworn blind that I was delusional if it wasn’t right there, right in me, just as it was in him.

I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. I kept kissing him as my ass ate up his dick with hungry sucks, the pleasure rippling through me without a care for the pain of the stretch.

It was beautiful. And dirty. Disgusting.

Wrong, and right.

Deep and fucked up. Shallow and pretty, with glitter sparkles as my husband watched with his own dick throbbing in his fingers.

I moaned in Thomas Heath’s mouth as the third climax threatened, my limbs aching at the thrill. I moaned again as his rasp of breath came right back at me, daring please, please fucking do it.

He fought losing control, but I didn’t let him, not this time. There was no alarm clock to save him as my fingers touched to his cheeks and my kiss deepened. I was right there with him as his eyes opened and focused on mine, my own excitement cresting with him as he thrust up to meet my every movement.

And it happened.

Oh fuck, how it happened.

His hands on my hips driving me down, his tongue deep in my mouth as his fingers swept up my spine and held me tight to him.

In another world, in another place, this could have been something, meant something.

In another world, we could have been something.

But in this one we were only something for as long as it took him to explode inside my asshole.

He was cursing under his breath before he was done twitching deep, shunting me free quickly enough that his cum drooled from my ass all over his jerking dick.

I wanted to say something. Anything. Just to make him stay. Just to make him know it was alright. That I’d loved it too.

But I couldn’t say a word as he rose to his feet with his dick in his hand and retreated to the bathroom.

I only wished my husband had the same restraint I did.

He didn’t.

His voice rang loud and victorious, following Thomas into the bathroom as the door slammed behind him.

“Three fucking nil to me.”