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I can’t help but obey because the sensations are overwhelming. I’m being taken in two holes, and just as I begin to squirm in time with Sam’s thrusts, I come hotly all over him. A loud shriek fills the air as my pussy convulses violently, letting out a huge gush of wetness.
Sam, meanwhile, growls his approval, and then I feel that huge rod jerk in my behind. He roars as the rod begins spurting heavily, filling up my ass with virile seed.
“Unnh, FUCK!” he shouts. “Shit fuck shit!”
I mewl my pleasure too, moaning as my two holes convulse on his fingers and cock, enjoying the sensuous penetration. Oh god, how did I get so lucky? After all, I’m a bad girl … but I’ve never experienced ecstasy like this.
5
Sam
I stir and my eyes drift open. Where the fuck am I? And why does my bedside clock have red digital numbers on it? I thought my clock had small green numbers. But then last night comes rushing back and I start involuntarily.
I’m in Harlow’s room, I realize. Holy shit, did we really do that? We started out innocently enough with just some light flirtation, but then it devolved into fucking each other hard. Yeah, she must be feeling so sore and I glance down at the sleeping woman beside me. Harlow’s utterly gorgeous and looks so peaceful lying in my arms, her soft lips parted as she breathes in and out. Against my better judgment, I pull those luscious curves close again, enjoying this unexpectedly intimate moment. It feels natural too because Harlow murmurs in her sleep and tucks her chin into my chest, nuzzling me for a moment before going still once more.
What the hell have I done? I can’t help but ask myself as we lay with our bodies intertwined. Harlow is insanely gorgeous, but did I push her too far? I know she’s a grown woman, but still, what we did was wrong because I used to be married to her mother. The thought makes my stomach fold in on itself and I can only hope that in the light of day, we can figure out what the fuck is going on.
Shit shit shit. I better get out of this bed before Harlow wakes up because that conversation’s going to be interesting, I decide. Yet it feels next to impossible to pull myself away from the slumbering woman because she’s so beautiful and luscious lying in my arms. One big breast is pressed against my bicep and lightly, I skim my fingers over a pink nipple. It hardens a bit as I watch, and I resist the urge to take it in my mouth for a deep suckle. Instead, I begin to untangle my body from hers and it’s tough. Harlow doesn’t seem to want to let me go, and her arms wind tighter about my neck, her curvy body instinctively searching for the warmth of mine. But finally, I manage to get out of the bed and take a minute to watch her as she sleeps, those creamy curves full of sin, lust, and promise.
What the fuck is wrong with you? I think with a scowl. Then, grabbing my scrubs, I tiptoe to the door. Fortunately, it doesn’t squeak when I pull it open, and then I’m out in the safety of the hallway before taking a deep breath.
“Holy fuck,” I say aloud, my voice sounding strange in the empty landing. “What the hell just happened?” But then, I don my scrubs before heading downstairs to make some coffee. Maybe the caffeine will clear my head because this situation is fucking insane.
Letting myself into the kitchen, I stride over to the fancy ass Nespresso coffee maker and push a couple buttons. How the hell does this thing work? After some more experimenting, the machine starts burbling with weird popping noises and I let out a sigh of relief. Good.
Then, I stalk over to the fridge to figure out what to do for breakfast. What would Harlow want? Wait a minute, I think while freezing at the open door. Am I actually cooking breakfast for a woman? After all, I’m kind of an asshole when it comes to dating. I don’t date a ton in the first place, and when I do, I’m more of the love ‘em and leave ‘em variety. Breakfast and post-coital cuddles are definitely a no-no.
But this is a different situation, I remind myself grimly as I pull out eggs, diced onions, peppers, and shredded cheese, preparing to throw together an omelet. Hell, maybe Harlow won’t even come downstairs. Maybe she’s just as mortified as me, and will hide out in her room all day.
But before I’ve even finished scrambling the eggs, I hear a long yawn from Harlow as she wanders into the kitchen.
