We both kept our hands off of her, but we were lying too close to keep our cocks from pressing against her sides.
Clara turned toward Harry and pushed him onto his back. What did this mean? Was he the one? She straddled him. She took his face in her hands and leaned down to kiss him. A goodbye kiss? Was it me after all?
She reached down between her legs and guided his cock inside of her.
I watched from the side as Clara began to ride her husband. She smiled down at him, hands on his chest, grinding her hips in slow circles against his lap. He smiled back at her, then let his eyes wander along her body. She did a little dance with her arms, snaking them above her head, and giggled when it had the intended effect, instantly luring his palms to her round and risen breasts.
Clara glanced at me as he fondled her. She grinned, bit her lip, then nodded back over her shoulder. I rose and stood over Harry’s shins. She looked up at me and I bent over to kiss her.
“Like old times,” she said.
I felt my face flush, an electric tingle crisscrossing my body—the hopeful joy of requited affection. Was it me, then? Had I won? Or was I a fool for expecting so?
I knelt down. I let my cock drag between Clara’s shoulder blades, then down the small of her back. She bent over, kissing Harry deeply again as he thrusted up into her.
I teased my shaft along her bottom. I gently spread her supple cheeks, pressed my thumb against her tiny hollow. Then I forced my throbbing, hungry cock into her ass.
Could it be that I was a perfectly snug fit? That for whatever improvements Harry had made to his imposing package, he was simply too round for Clara’s backside?
Clara buried her face against Harry’s neck as she moaned. As I eased inside of her, Harry began to thrust deeper. She squeezed his shoulders, squeezed his arms. I eased further. Harry rose and fell beneath her. I struggled to control myself, desperate to take her, to have her. She reached back blindly, her fingertips grazing my thigh, urging me on, and eventually I groaned, feeling myself within her body completely. She moaned my name against her husband’s chest, and I waited a moment, then began to sway my hips back and forth, back and forth, as Harry surged from beneath.
Clara sighed deeply, even broke into an excited giggle. She pawed absently at Harry’s chest with one hand and reached back to grasp my wrist with the other. She was close. She told us she wanted it harder. Harder. Begged us not to stop. Harry pinned Clara’s arms behind her back and held to her to his chest. I clutched her thighs and spanked her once, then again.
And at last her body began to stiffen. Clara quivered, a rolling wave that I felt against my pelvis before I saw the tremble in her shoulders. She went completely silent, submerged suddenly in the mute vibrations of a weightless swell. Then she at last erupted in a great fit of contented laughter. She stretched, pushed back long and slow against my cock, down along Harry’s, then tossed her hair to one side, closed her eyes, and rested her head against Harry’s chest with a long, fathomless breath.
“Fuck,” Clara said.
She purred and smiled at me, a few strands of hair falling back across her face, as I pulled myself from her body, and she purred again as she slid her hips up and away from Harry. She kissed him and rolled onto her back on the rug. She held a hand to her forehead, draped an arm across her stomach.
Once she regained her composure, Clara asked if we both came. A perfunctory question, she thought; she was stunned when Harry and I both said we had not. I, for one, said I was eager, but more desperate to hear her decision.
Harry, on the other hand, stood, balancing his hard shaft quietly in his palm.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said.
Clara looked up at him, then at me, then away. She didn’t respond.
“He reminds you more of the me that you remember,” Harry added.
Clara sighed and sat up on her knees. She rubbed her hands across Harry’s thighs and looked up at him with an apologetic smile as she kissed across his hip bone.
“My Harry,” she said softly. She held his cock, kissed the tip. “Will you cum for me?” she asked, staring up at him as she cradled his shaft between her breasts.
I stood to the side, trying to be respectful of their moment, but still so manically aroused that I couldn’t help but ogle her cleavage, Harry’s swollen head emerging, then submerging. Emerging, then submerging.
But as Harry’s momentum began to build, he suddenly stopped. He moved around behind Clara and bent her forward against the rug.
“Harry,” she began to protest.
He dropped to his knees, spread her cheeks, and began to lick furiously.
“Harry,” she said. “You’re too big for me there.”
But, satisfied that she was wet enough, Harry rose to one knee. “I can’t—” Clara began. He held her waist with one hand, his cock with the other, and then took what she’d given to me, her tight and delicate rear.
She didn’t stop him. Indeed, she curled her fingers against the rug.
It didn’t take him long, sprung with tension as he was, as we both were. He pushed deep to the hilt once, then a second time, and after the third he pulled away with a wild groan. He grabbed his cock, the vein of his forearm bulging, and a thick torrent of white poured across her bottom, her waist, and pooled into a narrow stream which ran slowly down the slope of her back.
He gave himself a few final pumps, wiped the sweat from his brow, and let his shaft rest against Clara’s ass. Her fingers relaxed and she glanced back at her lumbering beau, Paul Bunyan having just birthed a river.
“Charlie,” she said, glancing up at me as cum dripped over her shoulder and onto the rug. She scrunched her nose and flashed a slight, if telling, smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. Read more »