Marcus's hands found her shoulders, the oil warming against her skin as he pressed deep into the muscle. Anna's eyes stayed closed, her body still humming from the climax that had rolled through her minutes ago. The candlelight painted the inside of her eyelids amber.
"Turn over," Marcus said. His voice was low, a command wrapped in that professional calm.
She did. Slowly. The table creaked beneath her weight as she rolled onto her back, her breasts slick with oil, her thighs still glistening. The air hit her skin and she shivered.
Mike stood at the edge of the table, watching, arms crossed. That grin hadn't left his face — the one that said he knew exactly what was about to happen.
Marcus reached for the oil bottle, poured a fresh stream into his palm, and set it down. His hands came together, spreading the warmth, and then they found her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples, once, twice, the oil making everything slick and slow.
"You like being watched," Marcus said. Not a question.
Anna's breath caught. "I—"
"Don't answer." His hands pressed harder, his fingers spreading wide over her ribs, thumbs dragging up across her nipples again. "I can feel it in your body. The way you relax when he's looking."
Her eyes flicked to Mike. He was watching her like she was something precious — and something he was about to give away.
"Open your mouth," Marcus said.
She did.
He brought his thumb to her lips, pressed it inside. She tasted oil and salt and the faint musk of his skin. Her tongue curled around him without thinking.
"Good girl."
The words sent heat flooding through her. She sucked his thumb deeper, her eyes locked on his, and she saw something flicker in that dark gaze — not surprise. Approval.
He pulled his thumb out slowly, dragged it down her chin, her throat, between her breasts, leaving a trail of wet shine. Then he stepped back and reached for the buckle of his uniform pants.
The sound of the zipper was loud in the quiet room.
Anna's breath stopped.
His cock sprang free — thick, dark, already hard. The tip glistened in the candlelight. Her mouth went dry.
"You've already had it inside you," Marcus said, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower. "Now I want to see it in your mouth."
She didn't hesitate. She sat up on her elbows, then pushed herself higher, her knees finding the table beneath her. Marcus stepped between her thighs, one hand cupping the back of her head, and she opened her mouth wide.
He fed it to her slowly. The head pushed past her lips, thick and warm and salt on her tongue. Her lips stretched around him as she took him deeper, her eyes fluttering closed, her hands finding his thighs for balance.
"Look at me," he said.
She opened her eyes. Met his gaze. And took him deeper.
His hand guided her head, not forcing — directing. Setting a rhythm. Slow at first, her tongue working the underside, tracing the vein that pulsed against her lips. He was so big her jaw ached already, but she didn't pull back.
Mike moved. She heard the clink of glass, the glug of liquid being poured. When she glanced sideways, Mike was settling into the armchair near the wall, a glass of amber whiskey in his hand, his legs spread. He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving her.
Marcus pulled out until only the head remained in her mouth. Then he pushed forward — and kept pushing.
Her throat opened for him. The stretch was sudden, deep, overwhelming. She gagged once, her hands gripping his thighs, and he held there, letting her adjust, his thumb stroking her cheek.
"Breathe through your nose," he said, the same calm, commanding tone. "You can take it."
She did. Her throat spasmed around him, then relaxed. He slid deeper, the tip pressing against the back of her throat, and when he bottomed out, she felt his pubic bone against her lips.
He was all the way in her throat.
Marcus let out a low sound — a groan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. "That's it."
He held there for a long moment, his cock filling her throat completely, and Anna felt her body surrender to it — the helplessness, the fullness, the weight of being used like this while Mike watched from his chair.
Then Marcus pulled out, just an inch, and pushed back in. The rhythm built — slow, deep, deliberate. Each thrust pressed her lips against his base. She felt drool begin to escape the corners of her mouth, trailing down her chin, and when he pulled back far enough for her to breathe, a thick ribbon of saliva and precum stretched from her lips to his cock.
He pushed forward again, and this time when he pulled back, he angled himself so that the spit and precum dripped onto her chest. Cool against her hot skin. He did it again — pulled out, let it fall, watched the string connect his cock to her breast.
"Look at that," he murmured. "Messy girl."
Anna's cheeks burned, but she didn't look away.
He shifted, one hand cupping her breast, spreading the wetness across her skin until her whole chest glistened in the candlelight. Then he leaned forward, his cock still at her lips, and licked a slow stripe up the side of her neck.
"You taste good," he said against her ear. "Your husband chose well."
She moaned — a sound that came from her throat, raw and unguarded.
Marcus pulled back, positioning himself between her legs again. This time he didn't guide her head. He grabbed his cock, thick and slick, and tapped it against her lips once, twice.
"Open," he said.
She did. He slid inside, but this time he didn't stop when he reached her throat. He pushed until his balls rested against her chin, her nose buried in his pubic hair, her throat stretched around his entire length.
And then he held.
The seconds stretched. Anna's hands found his thighs, gripping, not pushing. She breathed through her nose, felt his pulse against her tongue, felt the slight tremor in his thighs.
"Fuck," Marcus breathed, and the word was almost reverent. "You don't gag. You just take it."
He pulled out slowly, inch by inch, letting her feel every ridge, every vein. When he was all the way out, a thick strand of saliva connected them, and he wiped it across her mouth with his thumb.
"Turn around," he said. "Hands and knees."
She did. Her knees found the table, her palms flat against the padded surface. Behind her, she heard the oil bottle again, the wet sound of his hands slicking himself.
"You're already wet," Marcus said, one hand sliding between her legs, his fingers finding her slick and open. "Your pussy remembers me."
He positioned himself. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, teased there, sliding through her wetness without pushing in. She felt herself clench around nothing.
"Please," she heard herself say.
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me."
He pushed in. One smooth, deep thrust that filled her completely, and she cried out — a sharp, broken sound that hung in the candlelit air.
"That's it," Marcus said, his hands finding her hips. "That's what you needed."
He set a pace — deep and unhurried, his thighs slapping against hers, the wet sound of his cock sliding through her filling the room. Anna gripped the table edge, her head dropping between her shoulders, every nerve alive.
"Look at your husband while I fuck you."
She lifted her head. Mike was still in the armchair, his whiskey glass on the armrest, his hand now wrapped around his own cock. He was stroking himself slowly, deliberately, his green eyes fixed on where Marcus's body met hers.
"You like watching?" Marcus asked, not breaking rhythm.
Mike's grin was lazy, dark. "I arranged it."
"I know." Marcus reached forward, grabbed a fistful of Anna's hair, and pulled her upright, her back against his chest. The angle changed, his cock going deeper, and she gasped. "You picked her for me. Picked someone who'd take it."
Mike's hand moved faster on his cock. "She's always been good at surprise gifts."
Anna's laugh was cut off by a moan as Marcus thrust up into her, the new angle hitting something that made her see stars.
Marcus held her there, one arm across her ribs, his other hand still tangled in her hair, and fucked her like that — deep, grinding thrusts that had her crying out with every one. Her body was oiled and gleaming, her breasts bouncing, her head thrown back against his shoulder.
"You're going to come again," Marcus said against her ear. "And when you do, I'm going to feel it."
She couldn't answer. She was already close, the pressure building in her belly, her thighs trembling.
Marcus shifted again, pulling out, turning her so she faced the wall. He bent her forward, palms flat on the table, and re-entered her from behind in a single, brutal thrust.
"Right there," she gasped. "Don't stop—"
"I won't."
His hips slammed against hers. The table rocked. The candle flame jumped. And Anna shattered — her orgasm tearing through her, her pussy clenching around him, a sob of pleasure escaping her lips.
Marcus kept fucking her through it, riding out every wave, and when she was limp and gasping, he pulled out and turned her onto her back again.
"Not done with that mouth," he said.
He climbed onto the table, straddling her chest, his cock hanging thick and wet above her face. She opened her mouth. He lowered himself, and she took him in, tasting herself on his skin — her own wetness mixed with his salt.
He fucked her mouth from above, his thighs on either side of her head, his hands braced on the table behind her. With every thrust, his cock slid deeper, and she felt the weight of him, the heat of him, the sheer size of the man using her body.
Mike was stroking himself faster now, his breath ragged, the whiskey glass forgotten.
"I'm going to come on your face," Marcus said, his voice strained. "Open your eyes. I want to see you when it covers you."
She looked up at him, his dark face hovering above her, his jaw tight, his eyes hungry. She opened her mouth wider, and he groaned, his hips stuttering, and she felt the first hot pulse hit her tongue.
More. Thick and warm, flooding her mouth, and she swallowed, and he kept coming, painting her tongue and her lips and her chin. She felt it drip down her cheeks, onto her neck, pooling in the hollow of her throat.
When he was done, he sat back on his heels, breathing hard, his cock still twitching. "Beautiful."
Anna lay there, covered in his come, her body spent, her mind blissfully empty. The candlelight flickered across her oiled skin.
And then the door opened.
Anna's eyes snapped to it. A figure stood in the doorway — tall, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned. Another Black man, built even larger than Marcus, his eyes wide behind the doorframe.
"Marcus—" He stopped. Stared. The scene registered: the oiled woman on the table, the come on her face, Marcus still on the table between her thighs, a man in the chair with his cock in his hand.
"Door's supposed to be locked," Marcus said, his voice flat. Calm. But the man didn't leave.
He stepped inside instead. Closed the door behind him. Locked it.
His eyes found Anna, raking across her body, her glistening skin, her parted thighs. "Who's this?"
Mike set down his whiskey glass, his grin widening. He stood, crossed to the table, and looked down at his wife — covered in another man's come, still trembling from two orgasms, her mouth open and hungry.
"That," Mike said, "is my wife."
The man's gaze didn't leave Anna. He was already reaching for his belt.
The door clicked shut behind him. The lock turned with a soft, final sound that seemed to hang in the candlelit air. Anna's heart kicked against her ribs, but her body stayed loose, oiled, waiting — still humming from everything Marcus had already done to her.
She met the man's eyes. Dark. Wide. Still processing the scene he'd walked into — the oiled woman on the table, Marcus still breathing hard beside her, Mike with his cock still half-hard in his hand.
Anna let her lips curve. Slow. Deliberate. And she winked.
The man's hesitation evaporated.
He crossed the room in three long strides, his boots heavy on the tile, his belt already unbuckled. He was built even bigger than Marcus — broader through the chest, his arms thick with muscle, his jaw sharp beneath a close-shaven head. When he reached the table, he looked down at her, his gaze tracing the come still drying on her face, the oil slick across her breasts, the way her thighs fell open without being asked.
"You're a messy one," he said. His voice was deep, rougher than Marcus's. The kind of voice that expected to be obeyed.
Anna heard Mike's low chuckle from the armchair. "She cleans up well, though."
The man's pants dropped. His cock sprang free — thick, darker than Marcus's, already hard and curving slightly upward. The tip gleamed in the low light.
Anna didn't wait for instruction. She sat up, reached out, wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock. The heat of him burned against her palm. She leaned forward, parted her lips, and took him into her mouth.
He was big. The stretch hit her jaw immediately, but she opened wider, taking him deeper, her tongue working the underside as she went. He tasted clean — soap and salt and the faint bitterness of precum already beading at the tip.
"Fuck," the man breathed. His hand found the back of her head, not pushing, just resting there. "She knows what she's doing."
Mike's voice drifted from the chair. "She learns fast."
Anna pulled back, let his cock slide out of her mouth with a wet pop, and looked up at the man. "What's your name?"
"Derek."
"Derek," she repeated, tasting the name. Then she looked past him, at Marcus, who was watching with dark, hungry eyes. His cock was already thickening again, rising from its softness with a slow, inevitable resurgence.
Anna's smile widened. She reached out her other hand toward Marcus. "Come here."
He did. He stepped closer, his cock already half-hard, and she wrapped her fingers around him too — one in each hand, both men standing before her, their cocks warm and heavy against her palms.
She brought them together. Side by side. Derek's cock next to Marcus's, both of them dark and thick and glistening from her mouth. She leaned forward and took them both into her mouth at once — the heads pressing against her lips, stretching them wide, one sliding over the other as she licked and sucked and tasted both of them together.
A groan escaped Derek. Marcus's hand tightened in her hair.
"Look at that," Marcus murmured. "Look at her taking both of us."
Anna's eyes flicked up, meeting first Derek's gaze, then Marcus's. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, her tongue working between them, tasting salt and precum and the mingled heat of two men at once. Drool escaped the corners of her mouth, running down her chin, but she didn't stop.
Mike rose from his chair. He crossed to the table, stood beside her, his hand finding her hair, stroking it back from her face. "You like this, baby?"
She couldn't answer — her mouth was full — but she moaned, the sound vibrating through both men's cocks, and Mike's grin deepened.
"Good girl."
He stepped back, settled into the armchair again, and picked up his whiskey. He didn't touch himself. He just watched, his green eyes tracking every movement, every shift of her head, every moan she made around the cocks in her mouth.
Anna worked them in her mouth for long minutes. She took turns — Derek deep, then Marcus, then both together again — letting them feel her tongue, her throat, the wet heat of her mouth. Her jaw ached. Her lips were numb. She didn't stop.
Finally Derek pulled back, his cock slick with her spit. "I need to be inside you."
Anna released Marcus with a wet sound, her lips swollen, her chin glistening. "Then get inside me."
Derek grabbed her hips and turned her onto her stomach in one motion. She felt the cool leather of the table against her breasts, her thighs, her spread knees. He didn't reach for oil — she was already slick enough, her pussy wet from Marcus, from her own arousal, from the sheer heat of the room.
He positioned himself. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, teasing there, pushing just barely into her heat before pulling back. She felt herself clench around nothing.
"Please," she breathed.
"Please what?" His voice was a growl behind her.
"Please fuck me, Derek."
He pushed in. One long, deep thrust that filled her completely, and she cried out — her body arching, her fingers gripping the table edge. He was thicker than Marcus, the stretch sharper, the fullness deeper. He held there for a moment, letting her adjust, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
"Jesus," he muttered. "She's tight."
"She's been well-trained," Mike said from the chair, his voice low and satisfied.
Derek began to move. Slow at first, deep thrusts that dragged against every sensitive inch of her, his hips pressing against her ass with each push. The table creaked beneath them. The candle flame jumped.
And then Marcus stepped up beside her. His cock was fully hard now, thick and ready, and he tapped it against her lips.
"Open," he said.
She did. He slid into her mouth, and she took him deep, her throat opening for him while Derek fucked her from behind. The rhythm built — Marcus's hips meeting her face, Derek's hips slamming against her ass, both of them filling her at once, her body the bridge between them.
She was lost in it. The fullness. The heat. The weight of two men using her body while her husband watched. Drool pooled on the table beneath her face. Every moan vibrated around Marcus's cock, and he groaned in response.
"That's it," Marcus said, his voice strained. "Take it. Take both of us."
Derek's hand slid between her legs, his fingers finding her clit, pressing hard circles that made her gasp around Marcus's cock. "She's close," he said. "I can feel it."
Mike stood again, crossed to them, and knelt beside the table. His hand found her hair, stroking it back, his voice soft. "Come for them, baby. Let them feel you."
She did. The orgasm rose from somewhere deep, cresting like a wave, and she shattered — her pussy clenching around Derek's cock, her body shuddering, a raw, muffled cry escaping her throat as Marcus held deep in her mouth. Derek kept thrusting through it, riding her climax, and Marcus held still, letting her spasm around his cock.
When she finally came down, gasping and trembling, Derek pulled out. His cock was gleaming with her wetness, and he grabbed her hips, turning her onto her back. He climbed onto the table, positioning himself above her face, and Marcus moved to stand beside her head.
Anna looked up at both of them, her chest heaving, her body covered in oil and sweat and come. She opened her mouth.
"You greedy thing," Derek said, but there was no judgment in his voice. Only heat.
She took them both in her hands again, guiding Marcus's cock to her mouth while she wrapped her lips around Derek's. She sucked them in turns — Derek, then Marcus, then Derek again — her tongue working both of them, her hands stroking what her mouth couldn't reach.
Marcus pulled back. "Turn over. On your knees."
She did. She rose onto her knees on the table, her hands braced on the wall in front of her, her back arched. Derek positioned himself behind her, his cock sliding into her pussy with a wet sound that made her gasp. Marcus stepped up beside her, his cock at her lips, and she took him in her mouth again.
They set a rhythm together. Derek thrusting into her from behind, Marcus fucking her mouth from the side. Her body moved between them, her breasts swaying, her moans vibrating around Marcus's cock. The room filled with the sound of wet skin, heavy breathing, low groans.
Mike moved closer. He stood beside Derek, watching the place where his cock disappeared into Anna's pussy — the stretch of her lips around him, the glisten of her wetness coating his shaft. Mike's hand went to his own cock, stroking it slowly, his eyes fixed on the sight.
"You can feel her, can't you?" Mike said, his voice low. "Feel how tight she is. How wet."
Derek's answer was a grunt. His thrusts grew harder, faster, his hand gripping Anna's hip hard enough to leave marks.
Mike stepped forward, his hands finding Anna's hips beside Derek's. He lowered himself, kneeling on the edge of the table, and pressed his mouth to the place where Derek's cock disappeared into her. His tongue slid along the stretched skin, tasting her wetness, the salt of Derek's shaft, the musk of both of them mingling. Anna gasped around Marcus's cock, her body shuddering at the new sensation — Mike's mouth on her cunt while another man fucked her.
"Keep going," Mike said between licks, his voice rough against her skin. His tongue traced the ridge of Derek's cock where it spread her open, circling her clit with each pass. "Don't stop. Let me taste you."
Marcus moved. He stepped up onto the table, his weight shifting the surface as he positioned himself on his knees in front of Anna's face. He took his cock in his hand, guiding it back to her lips, and pushed past them in one slow, deliberate thrust. Her mouth stretched around him, her nose pressing into the trimmed hair at his base, and he held there, letting her feel the fullness of him filling her throat.
"That's it," Marcus said, his deep voice a low rumble above her. His hands found the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he began to move, his hips rocking against her face. "Take all of me. You can take it."
She was caught between them — Mike's tongue working her clit while Derek's cock drove into her from behind, Marcus's length sliding deep into her throat with every thrust. Her hands clawed at the wall, her moans vibrating around Marcus's shaft, her whole body a conduit of sensation. Derek's pace grew frantic, his breath ragged, and Mike's mouth never stopped, his tongue pressing harder, faster, as if he could taste her climax building through every point of contact.
Derek's rhythm shattered first. His hips slammed against her, his breath a ragged groan as he buried himself deep and held, his cock pulsing inside her. Marcus pulled back from her mouth, his cock slick with her spit, and Mike lifted his head from her cunt, his chin glistening.
"Switch," Mike said, his voice hoarse. He rose from the table and stretched out on his back, his cock standing hard and wet against his stomach. "Anna. Come here. Sit on my face." She moved on trembling legs, her body buzzing, and straddled his head, lowering her cunt to his waiting mouth. His tongue found her immediately, lapping at the mess Derek had left inside her, and she moaned as she took his cock in her hand. She stroked him once, twice, then leaned forward and swallowed him to the root, her throat working around his length as she began to bob her head.
Derek stepped behind her, his cock still slick with her pussy’s wetness, and guided himself back into her slippery heat. She gasped around Mike's shaft as Derek pushed deep, filling her again. Marcus moved in front, his heavy cock brushing her lips, and she switched to sucking his cock without hesitation, letting him slide past her tongue into her throat. Now she was a bridge—Mike's tongue working her clit from below, Derek driving into her from behind, Marcus fucking her mouth in deep, wet thrusts. The room filled with the sounds of her gagging, of skin slapping, of Mike's muffled groans against her cunt.
Mike's tongue pressed flat against her clit, feeling the slick drag of Derek's cock sliding into her just inches from his mouth. She was so wet he could taste it, could feel the heat radiating from her cunt with every thrust, he could feel all her wetness just drip into his mouth. At the same time she Marcus was fucking her mouth and she was sucking it so good that all his precum and her saliva kept dripping onto Mikes cock below, her hand worked his shaft, her spit mixing with his pre-cum, making her grip slick and sloppy as she bobbed her head on Marcus's length.
She moaned around Marcus's cock, her throat convulsing, and from below Mike felt her whole body tense. The vibration hummed through her cunt, and his tongue flicked faster, chasing the sound. Her hand left his dick for a moment, slick with her own saliva, and she gripped the base of Marcus's shaft, guiding him deeper into her throat. The movement dragged her wet hand across Mike's stomach, leaving a trail of warmth on his skin.
Derek's rhythm turned punishing, his hips slapping against her ass, driving his cock so deep into her sopping cunt that Mike felt the pressure of it. Marcus pulled back, letting her breathe, and a thick thread of spit connected his glans to her tongue. She swallowed, then lowered her head again, taking him back into her mouth. The excess saliva dripped from her chin, landing warm and wet on Mike's thigh and the base of his cock, which she immediately wrapped her fingers around again, stroking in time with Derek's thrusts.
"Fuck," Mike groaned against her cunt, his voice vibrating through her clit. "You're drowning me, baby. Dripping down my chin." He lapped at the mess, his tongue delving into her opening, tasting himself and Derek mixed with her. She whimpered, her hips twitching, and Marcus took the opportunity to thrust deeper into her throat, his balls slapping against her chin. She was nothing but a perfect, wet, willing vessel, and Mike couldn't get enough of the sight of her like this—his wife, completely used, completely full, completely theirs.
The pressure built again, a coil tightening in her gut. Derek's breath was ragged behind her, his thrusts losing rhythm “Fuck, she’s tight even now.”. Marcus's hands fisted in her hair. Mike's tongue attacked her clit, knowing her body's signals, feeling the flutter of her cunt around Derek's cock. "I'm gonna—" she tried to warn them, but the words were lost around Marcus's shaft. The orgasm slammed into her, hard and unexpected, and her entire body locked up, her cunt clenching around Derek, her throat milking Marcus, her hand crushing Mike's cock as she rode the wave.
Derek drove through her climax, his own release coming with a guttural shout, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside her. He held himself deep, his cock pulsing, filling her with wet, hot heat that Mike could feel against his tongue.
Mike didn't stop licking. He licked her through it, swallowing the mix of her slick and Derek’s cum, his tongue circling her swollen clit until her shudders turned to weak tremors. Above him, her mouth went slack around Marcus, her hand on Mike’s cock slowing to a wet, loose stroking.
Anna gasped, a broken sound muffled by Marcus’s shaft. Her body jolted with the new intrusion, sensitive and overstimulated, but her hips pushed back against him, inviting him deeper. Mike felt the fresh flood of her arousal, tasted the new slickness as Derek’s cock pistoned into her. “That’s it,” Mike growled against her flesh, his voice thick. “Take it. You’re made for this.”
Marcus began to move again, his thrusts into her mouth measured, deep. His balls slapped her chin, a wet, rhythmic sound. Her spit ran down his length, over her fingers, and dripped in thick, warm drops onto Mike’s cock and stomach. Mike groaned, his own hips bucking into the air. “You hear that?” he said, his tongue flat against her clit. “You’re making a mess of me. Dripping all over your husband.”
Her only answer was a choked moan, her throat working around Marcus. Her hand tightened on Mike’s shaft, her grip slick and perfect while Marcus used her mouth.
Derek's rhythm stuttered, his hips hammering into her with a desperate, animal urgency. His breath came in ragged grunts, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "Fuck—I'm coming," he gritted out, his voice torn. His thrusts turned sloppy, erratic, and Anna's pussy clenched around him, milking him as he drove deep one final time.
He held there, buried to the hilt, his cock pulsing as thick, hot streams of cum flooded her. She felt it painting her inside, a deep, liquid heat that made her gasp against Marcus. Derek stayed locked for a long, trembling moment, then slowly, his slick shaft dragged out of her. A gush of white cum followed, spilling from her gaping pussy in a warm, viscous ribbon that splattered onto Mike's waiting tongue and chin.
Mike groaned, his mouth pressed flat against her, lapping it up. He licked the mixture of her slick and Derek's seed from his lips, his tongue sliding back to her clit, smearing it over her sensitive nub. Above her, Marcus watched with dark, hungry eyes, his pace in her mouth quickening. "My turn," he growled, his voice low and thick.
He pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock glistening with her spit. He stroked himself twice, then aimed at her upturned face. The first hot rope splashed across her lips and cheek, the next across her eyelids and into her hair. He growled, jerking himself, painting her face and breasts in thick, pearly streaks. Cum dripped from her chin, from her nipples, sliding down her stomach in warm rivulets.
The cum continued to fall, landing in fat drops on Mike's cock below. He felt it land on his shaft, on his stomach—warm, wet, a new trickle joining the mess. Anna's hand still stroked him, slick and perfect, and he bucked into her grip as he licked her, tasting her arousal. "That's it," he breathed against her, his tongue flicking faster. "I'm right there."
Mike’s tongue worked her in tight, insistent circles, the pressure just shy of too much. Her body arched, a sharp, helpless motion that drove her pussy harder against his mouth. “Come on,” he snarled, the vibration against her clit making her cry out, the sound muffled by Marcus’s cock. “Cum for me. Let me taste it.”
Her orgasm broke over her like a wave, sudden and violent. Her thighs clamped around Mike’s head, her pussy clenching in rapid, fluttering pulses around nothing, spilling fresh slickness over his tongue. Mike groaned, drinking her down, his own hips pumping into her hand. The rhythm of her stroking faltered as she convulsed, but he guided her fist with his own, showing her the pace.
“Good girl,” Marcus breathed above her, his thumb stroking her cheek smeared with his cum. “Now watch.” He pulled his cock from her lips, glistening and wet, and aimed it down her body. He jerked himself over her, his release still coming in thick, hot spurts that painted stripes across her heaving stomach and pooled in the hollow of her navel.
Mike felt the warm drops land on his own cock, on his belly, a fresh layer of wet heat. He looked up, his vision filled with the sight of her streaked and used, Marcus’s cum dripping onto him from her body. The filth of it, the sheer ownership, sent a final, electric shock through his spine. “Fuck,” he gritted out, his voice raw.
His own climax tore through him, a deep, wrenching release. He came over her stroking hand, over his own stomach, his cum joining the mess already there. He kept his mouth sealed to her, licking her through the last shudders, swallowing every drop she gave him until she went limp, her hand falling still.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the low hum of the filtration system. Derek stepped back, his softening cock slick and spent. Marcus slowly withdrew, tucking himself back into his uniform pants with a deliberate, practiced motion. Mike finally lifted his head, his chin wet, his face a mask of her pleasure and their release.
He looked at Anna, her face a beautiful, ruined canvas, her body glistening under the dim light. He ran a hand through his damp, sandy hair, his green eyes holding hers, dark with satisfaction. “Look at you,” he said, his voice low and rough.
Anna blinked, cum catching on her eyelashes. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, just a soft, broken sound. She looked from Mike’s face to Marcus’s, then down at her own sticky, trembling hands, as if seeing them for the first time.