by Jade West
“Round one to me,” Heath said with a smirk and licked his fingers clean.
“Like fuck it was,” Brett replied. “Now get in my wife’s pretty throat and see how well you hold up to the same fucking pressure.”
“My pleasure,” Heath said, with his trademark smirk.
But he was wrong.
The pleasure was all fucking mine.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Thomas
I was way out of my groove in this sorry situation, cursing myself for being dragged into silly games so far out of my comfort zone as I ploughed Grace’s cunt with brutal fingers.
I shouldn’t be here. Not with both of them, and most certainly not without a heap of my cash on the table to keep the sway firmly on my side. Brett was different this time around, barely recognisable as the buckling pile of has been I’d forced into a corner so easily.
He was worryingly back in his groove as he slammed his dick into his wife’s retching throat, fucking her hard without a hint of a concern that I was up against him.
I hated how it twisted deep inside, provoking the reaction of that poor pathetic boy I’d been trying to keep at bay for weeks. The boy who hated everything the popular teenage Brett Foster stood for. Hated his bravado and bullish jibes, the confidence he carried in his shoulders like nothing in the world could tear him down.
The years I’d spent convincing myself I could be the one to throw him from his footing were shrivelling away to nothing. Drying up around me as I kept my walls up high.
I forced it down. Choked it tight. Keeping my focus on the woman writhing on the bed between us, playing her with every ounce of concentration I could muster as her pussy responded to my fingers.
Bringing her off was easy. Knowing the right words to send her body quivering was as natural as the breath in my lungs. Keeping my cocky front watertight under the scrutiny of her asshole husband was not.
I told him I’d won the first round, claiming her climax as my own, but even as I forced out the arrogance I knew he wasn’t buying it. He was still in full control as he pulled away from her mouth and left her ragged, his cock barely twitching as her spit dribbled down his thighs.
I told him it was my pleasure to take his place, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t prepared for the full intensity of sharing a woman with another naked man, flesh on display so vulnerably next to his. I wasn’t prepared for the equal footing of the battle between two men striving to give their best game.
Grace was already open wide as I took up position. She tipped her head back to stretch her eager throat, whimpering for more as I pushed into the sloppy wet tunnel he’d left behind.
She was hot. Tight. Noisy. Everything I’d dreamed of as a teenager watching her from across the street with his hand in hers.
And more.
She was so much more.
“Fuck her filthy mouth,” he snapped as I paused to enjoy the sensation. “She’s hungry for it.”
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. The words were on my tongue, ready to be as much of a cunt as I could summon from the depths, but that sad fucking boy inside left me mute.
I thrust my hips hard enough that Grace’s throat clenched hard. She coughed up a huge gob of drool as I pulled out all the way, letting out a groan as I charged all the way right back in. I was expecting a mirror image of our earlier arrangement, but the prick jumped right in and slammed his dick in her horny cunt, setting her so fucking wild that her throat hummed with stifled moans that made my balls tighten.
No.
I gritted my teeth against the pleasure, digging my fingers into my naked thighs in an attempt to regain my composure. It didn’t work. Not with the slap of flesh on flesh as Brett Foster grunted and slammed.
It was her excitement, so fucking beautiful as she writhed and whimpered. Her stretched mouth was grinning around my cock, hands reaching for her husband and urging him on.
I wasn’t going to come for her. Not yet. Not fucking ever if I could keep a fucking handle on it.
My eyes were closed as I paced myself, relief flooding through me as I regained my composure. And then I felt it there, the faintest hint of that sad little boy craving something that made my gut turn.
Camaraderie. The sad fucking thrill of Mr Popular slapping me on the back for a job well done. Mutual respect in a place I’d never wanted it, and certainly never earned it.
I’d never fucking wanted it. Not then and certainly not now. The teenage ghost in me was a sad little asshole, offsetting everything I’d battled to accomplish in all these years after high school.
I wanted to tear Brett Foster down and leave him destroyed, showing once and for all that I really was the better man. I wanted to claim his pretty wife as mine, leaving no illusion that she wanted anything but me.
These were the stakes, right here and now. This was the battle I’d been building up to my whole life.
“Fill the slut up,” he grunted, laughing low like a jock on the sports field. “She’s a cat wanting some filthy fucking cream from your balls. You’d best get giving it to her.”
And she did want it. Her moan was all for my filthy seed as she struggled to take more.
No.
I pulled out before she could claim her prize, slapping my wet dick against her open lips as I shifted to face the guy fucking that sweet pussy. His eyes were dark, hips in a fiery rhythm as he gave her every inch in brutal torment. His thumb was on her clit, pressing hard in the way I’d been doing. He knew the moves. My moves. He knew what buttons I’d been pressing to get such a glorious reaction from his sweet bride.
He’d been practicing. Seemingly every fucking minute of every fucking day.
I’d been burying myself in shitty mountains of work to distract myself from the desire for round two with his wife, and he’d been learning from what he’d seen that night. Pushing himself forward. Bigger. Better. Ripped with composure I’d thought long dead in him.
“More,” Grace whimpered, opening her mouth up like a needy fish, slippery wet and desperate.
I couldn’t give it to her, especially not when that hungry mouth strained to take my balls, her tongue a tease of epic proportions as her body burned my eyes with its perfect glory.
Her tits were divine, my love bite already darkening alongside his. Her nerves were alight, limbs shivering and jerking as her husband fucked her hard.
“Fill her the fuck up,” he barked again, and this time my eyes narrowed.
“I’ll give her what she fucking earns,” I countered, and he shrugged.
“Fuck her fucking throat and she’ll show you what’s earned,” he goaded. “What’s up with you? Too fucking shy to shoot your load? Grow some balls, Heath.”
“It’s not about the climax,” I argued. “It’s about the performance.”
But he didn’t care. His thrusts were hard enough that her face pressed tight to my dick and balls, mouth flapping wide as she reached her crest for the second time.
My cock wasn’t even in her as she exploded with orgasm number two. It was all for him.
I cursed under my breath as the win struck his senses, well aware that no amount of bravado on my part would kill his victory.
The flicker of embarrassment was hard to subdue, Brett’s eyes on me as he pulled from her pussy and presented his still raging hard on proud for my viewing.
“Yeah,” he told me. “It’s about the fucking performance. You’d better get with the game, Heath.”
It was all the fire I needed.
His pretty wife was still gasping as I pulled her body out from under and dragged her up onto mine.
“Next fucking round,” I said.
Chapter Forty-Nine
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.”
Chapter Fifty
Brett
I should’ve been smug as shit to see Heath shooting his load like a desperate cunt into Grace’s needy asshole, and I was.
The victory was loud and proud, my own cock twitching in warped fucking excitement as I worked it slow and shallow in my palm. Seeing that sonofabitch lose his cool and come for my Grace was a joy beyond every sensibility I’d ever known. Seeing her wounded confidence repair itself in front of me appeased every scrap of concern I had about this fucked-up arrangement.
It was worth it.
Seeing that sweet little smile on her face as she collapsed onto the bed with h
is cum still dripping from her asshole was worth every scrap of misery the cunt had landed on our doorstep and then some.
The bathroom door was closed tight behind him, the sound of running water blocking out any words I could have chosen to speak to my wife, but I didn’t need words.
My touch said it all, pulling her to my chest and wrapping her in warm arms, my cock pulsing against the small of her back as she struggled to regain her composure.
“This is crazy…” she whispered, and I kissed her damp hair.
My words were all from instinct, alien to me even as I said them.
“This is all about you from here on in. No point-scoring, no ego, just you and what you want. Whatever you want, Grace. I’m all in.”
Her hands stroked my arms, her body so small against mine, and it was about her. Seeing her so content between me and that asshole was all the reward I needed.
“He came,” she told me, her voice so small.
“How could he not?” I replied. “You were irresistible.”
I was still holding her tight when the bathroom door swung open and Heath stepped back into the room. His belly was still glistening from washing himself down, his cock back to hardness even though his expression was foul. It took a real scrap of restraint not to goad him further into his cesspit of losing, but I held back, giving him a nod as he came closer.
“It’s not game over yet,” he said, but his smirk was nowhere to be seen.
I could have pushed his every fucking button to pound my win home even harder, but I didn’t.
“It is game over,” I told him. “It’s all about Grace from here on in.”
He paused, standing over the bed with his eyes fixed on mine, trying to work out just what the hell I was going on about, I’m sure. I answered with a shrug.
“All about Grace,” I said again. “She has fantasies. We’re going to live up to them.”