She straddled him first. Took him slow. Her husband sat in the armchair across the room and watched her sink down, inch by inch, until her thighs met the other man's hips. The stranger's hands stayed flat on the mattress at first, letting her set the pace. She rocked forward, testing the angle, then leaned back so her husband could see every inch of her stretched around another cock. The sounds were wet and steady, skin meeting skin, her breath catching each time she dropped down again. Across from them, her husband's fingers tightened on the chair arms. She reached between her legs, spread herself wider with two fingers, made sure he could see the way she took it. The stranger's hands finally moved. One slid up her spine, the other gripped her ass hard enough to leave prints. She moaned louder on purpose. Wanted her husband to hear it. Wanted him to remember the exact sound she made when someone else pushed her over. She came first, sudden and sharp, thighs shaking, nails digging into the stranger's chest. Her husband stood up then. Crossed the room. The other woman was already waiting for him on the edge of the bed, legs open. He pushed inside her without ceremony while his wife watched, still seated on the first man's cock, still pulsing. They locked eyes across the bed. She started moving again, slower now, keeping time with the rhythm her husband set. Four bodies. Two marriages. One room. No one looked away.
She straddled him first. Took him slow. Her husband sat in the armchair across the room and watched her sink down, inch by inch, until her thighs met the other man's hips. The stranger's hands stayed flat on the mattress at first, letting her set the pace. She rocked forward, testing the angle, then leaned back so her husband could see every inch of her stretched around another cock. The sounds were wet and steady, skin meeting skin, her breath catching each time she dropped down again. Across from them, her husband's fingers tightened on the chair arms. She reached between her legs, spread herself wider with two fingers, made sure he could see the way she took it. The stranger's hands finally moved. One slid up her spine, the other gripped her ass hard enough to leave prints. She moaned louder on purpose. Wanted her husband to hear it. Wanted him to remember the exact sound she made when someone else pushed her over. She came first, sudden and sharp, thighs shaking, nails digging into the stranger's chest. Her husband stood up then. Crossed the room. The other woman was already waiting for him on the edge of the bed, legs open. He pushed inside her without ceremony while his wife watched, still seated on the first man's cock, still pulsing. They locked eyes across the bed. She started moving again, slower now, keeping time with the rhythm her husband set. Four bodies. Two marriages. One room. No one looked away.
