I feel a slippery sensation along the rim of my ass.
And I hold my breath as a finger eases inside me.
Oh God.
I muffle my groan with a cushion.
We can’t risk being heard.
With every gentle thrust Porter’s finger sinks deeper.
He rests his head on my stomach.
When he takes me in his mouth again, finger still teasing my ass, I don’t stand a chance.
“Too good. Too good... I'm gonna…”
“Shhh…”
My hips tense with each wave.
The pillow absorbs my cry as cum spills onto the sheets.
“I'll wash them,” I promise.
“What?” he laughs.
“I'll wash your sheets, I'm sorry.”
“Get over here,” he smiles. “Forget the sheets. Let me kiss you.”
His lips are tender and patient, arms holding me in a way that makes me feel so safe.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm.” My smile can’t be contained. “Better than okay.”
???
We try to keep our voices to a whisper, as footsteps creak along the hallway.
“Storm was nasty. Pretty flooded along Mary Street and George.”
Sounds like Franko's voice.
“Truckies are cancelling deliveries until further notice.”
Another voice.
Damien this time.
“Got enough stock to open the kitchen?”
“Nah, probably not worth it, mate. Nobody's coming into the city today.”
“Total crickets out there?”
“Total crickets. Tell the others to take a day off.”
