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Plumbing Her Depths

It seemed unlikely that our first encounter included anal, but that’s how it went down. I arched my back and gripped the bathroom tap for support, malachite irises lidded, breath fogging the mirror with rhythmic ovals in sync with heavy panting.

My tits spilled from the orange V-neck. Floral skirt flipped above my hips. He scooped a fistful of tumbling oak tresses and tugged, arching me further, twisting my face to his and smothering a hard kiss that swallowed my moans. I swooned. Hadn’t been kissed like that in, what… six years? When he pulled back, a loop of saliva stretching to breaking point, his stare burned and I found my voice.

“Fuck me, big boy. Hurry. My husband’s due back any minute.”

He picked up the pace, belt buckle clanking as he gripped my bottom and spread my cheeks, growling at the view of his girth stretching and plundering my tightest hole. All I could do was gasp and absorb every inch.

Gritting his teeth, he snarled, “Fucking pretty slut. Does your husband take you this way?”

I shook my head. “You’re my first. So big. So g… good.”

He spanked my arse and it rang around the small space. My cry followed as he hammered my distended ring. His fingers traced the curvature of my rear and one hand snaked to the front, zeroing on my pussy, swiping through soaked folds to my needy clit. My own hand’d be there if I wasn’t clinging to the tap.

Ragged breaths tickled my ear. “I turn up to fix your leak, and create another drip instead.”

He rolled firm fingertips over my jewel and I rocked my hips, spitting, “Fuck. Gonna come.”

With a flourish, he circled me just right, skimming the exposed hood and I rode the cusp. Rising. Cresting.

The stimulation stopped and I emitted an anguished squawk that he plugged with slick fingers, juices swamping my senses. I suckled a moment, before he twisted my jaw away from the mirror and withdrew.

My anal muscles burned as he exited, but I had no time to relish the spreading heat before being spun to my knees, facing his mammoth erection. Motionless, he stared down at me. “Want another first? Show me how much of a dirty girl you are.”

A delicious pearl of pre-come formed and I wasted no time, attacking the tip with my tongue and following it with my lips. I engulfed what I could, tasting myself. He reached one hand over his head and tugged his T-shirt off, my palms snaking to trace every exposed ridge of his six-pack and taut pecs as I devoured him.

He placed broad hands on my shoulders, encouraging me to slobber deeper. “So filthy. Your husband has no idea.”

I gagged and coughed, pulling away and wiping my mouth with the back of a hand. “If we don’t get a move on, he’ll find out.”

Sliding his grip to the back of my head, he grinned and tugged me forward. “Slut.”

My musk slithered past my taste buds and he didn’t stop until I retched, stomach convulsing at the invasion, throat muscles involuntarily clamping. He yanked out, spit dangling from the ridge and I sucked it up ready for the next thrust, our eyes locking. More prepared, I gagged less, the indecent gurps of him picking up speed and fucking my throat thrilling me.

I dove for my clit and circled furiously as his relentless face pounding accelerated, until he groaned and pulled free, cock twitching and bobbing in front of my tear-blurred vision.

“Up,” he commanded, hauling me to my feet and spinning me to face the mirror. He shoved forward, my palms slapping the glass, and swiped his turgid cock up through the slit in which he began.

I flushed at the recollection of idle small talk. Eyeing his sculpted definition beneath those tight jeans, torso protruding from the under-sink space as he fiddled with pipes. By the time he asked if I could run the water, I was a mess and stepped to straddle his physique. Sans panties.

He noticed. His bulge grew and, from there, hadn’t taken much convincing to sit up and eat me while I gripped the sink edge and ground my sopping pussy on his mouth.

When he stood behind me and yanked the shoulder straps down, cupping my breasts, I bit my lip at our reflection, his mouth and chin glistening in the sun streaming through the skylight. He’d lifted my skirt, freed his hardness and slipped inside my soaked pussy. Things spiralled out of control from there, torrid and frenzied, and here he was, once again poised at my star.

Our eyes met in the mirror and he worked inside, pushing past the inner ring with a soft pop that we both felt. There was no finesse to either invasion. This was fucking. Primal. Desperate.

“Fill me, stud. Fuck me. Quick!” I paused. “Shit. Is that his car in the driveway?”

I plunged my arse back towards his thrusts. Gasped and shook when he wrapped his strong arms around my waist and cupped my dripping cunt, grinding and rolling his palm against my clit.

My eyes drifted shut, the world faded and the climax gripped hard. Powerful spasms clenched around his embedded shaft as he unloaded deep in my arse with a distant roar.

Then, nothingness.

Indeterminate reflected shapes.

Whining in my ears, knuckles white.

Spunk dribbling between my pussy lips from his spent cock exiting my depths.

Commotion around me after the director yelled, “Cut! Great job, you two.”

Jason guided my wobbly form vertical. Helped me become presentable, muscles flexing under my drifting fingertips. “Wow, Stacey. That was something else.”

I focused nowhere. “That… kiss.”

The whirlwind of bodies around us dwindled, filtering towards the next location, and the director approached, adjusting his baseball cap.

“Stace, that was sensational. Take five… no, fifteen. God, that looked almost real.”

I grinned weakly. Stared after Jason.

If only he knew.

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