Two Men

“I love you.”

“Again.” He thrusts, sitting up, looking into my eyes, our faces inches apart as I look slightly down on him.

“I love you,” I whisper, gripping the back of his chair.

Then his eyes close, and he leans back, sliding his hands up and tugging the other side of my dress down, exposing both breasts to his hands. And I know what he wants. I know, just like I know every inch of his body, exactly what he wants. I lean back, my hands resting on his knees, my back arched, my body open before him, and fuck his cock.

Pumping up and down on his so-hard-it-will-break shaft, my legs carrying my body, his eyes opening and skimming greedily along my skin, his hand reaching forward and lifting the hem of my dress, strumming the bead of my clit until I come—body tightening, mouth screaming, world exploding.

Then he takes over, leaning forward and scooping me into and against his chest. My legs wrap tight around his body, his cock stiff and slick inside my sex, he carries me over to the wa