pleasure in your own
home but completely different when under the roof of strangers. This wasn’t her
bed. These weren’t her sheets. Didn’t Miss Manners have a rule that said one
did not desecrate the hospitality of those who host you by masturbating in
their guest room? Party foul.
A scream penetrated the walls of her room and brought her
upright. Another high-pitched wail reverberated down the hall, followed by a
guttural moan that was distinctly male.
Ari climbed down from the bed and inched toward the door,
cracking it open an inch. A wave of lust enveloped her like fog rolling off the
sea and the walls of her pussy constricted in response. Helpless to resist, she
crept down the hall toward the sound and paused when the cries and the rhythmic
smack of something heavy hitting the wall grew louder.
“Come again,” a man shouted in a voice deep with need. “Now.
Now!”
“Yes. Yes! Lucian, take me with that big cock,” Amaryllis
screamed in one long breath that sent chills down Ari’s back. The cry then
broke apart in staccato bursts as if she were being ridden hard.
“Holy shit!” Ari clasped her hand over her mouth and
backpedaled down the hall.
Of course Amaryllis and Lucian had an active sex life. If
Lucian were her husband, she’d probably think of nothing else but getting him
alone and riding him every minute of the day. However, expecting them to have
an active physical relationship and actually being within earshot of their lovemaking
and seeing the walls shake with the fervor of their coupling was fascinating
and horrifying all at the same time.
Man, no wonder she woke up so horny. Her subconscious
probably picked up on their sexy vibe and let her imagination run rampant.
As the two lovers’ shouting became louder and the paintings
on the wall began to bounce on their hangers, Ari raced back to her room and
shut the door. Even then her brain flashed images of what the pair must look
like dripping with sweat and cum and wrapped around each other’s gorgeous
bodies.
The shouts grew louder and more frantic, and with them her
heart raced and sweat trickled down her back.
Sleeping through this noise would be impossible, and with
each moan and thump she couldn’t help but imagine it was her and Bale screaming
down the roof.
“Crap. I have got to get out of here.”
She riffled through her bag then threw it across the room
when she remembered she didn’t have a change of clothes. Maybe a previous guest
had left something behind in the dresser. The top two drawers came up empty,
but she struck pay dirt on the next where she found a man’s button-down shirt.
A pair of jeans in a size too large were in another drawer and she whooped in
jubilation before changing into the clothes as quickly as a seventh-grade girl
after gym class who had yet to hit puberty. The pants were two inches too short
but were covered by her boots as she zipped them up then stumbled out into the
hall and down the stairs while the sound of furious fucking trailed after her.
The noise traveled into the living room and forced her to
seek shelter in the kitchen, but that too was no safe harbor. Above her head a
light fixture swung back and forth like a metronome, keeping time with the
couple’s shouting until they spiked in a crescendo like a diva hitting the high
note on a hit record.
Ari wilted against the counter as the groans faded. Whoa.
That was intense. No wonder they looked so bright and happy. Who wouldn’t be
when engaged in a relationship as intense as that?
Creak. Creak. Creak.
She looked up and saw the light begin a slow sway back and
forth that grew as another round of moans filtered through the floor.
“Oh my God.” She covered her face with her hands. “What are
these people on?”
The longer she remained privy to their marathon sex session,
the more difficult it was going to be to look either of them anywhere near
their face come morning. Ack— No, not come-come. She shook her head. Gah, just
at
home but completely different when under the roof of strangers. This wasn’t her
bed. These weren’t her sheets. Didn’t Miss Manners have a rule that said one
did not desecrate the hospitality of those who host you by masturbating in
their guest room? Party foul.
A scream penetrated the walls of her room and brought her
upright. Another high-pitched wail reverberated down the hall, followed by a
guttural moan that was distinctly male.
Ari climbed down from the bed and inched toward the door,
cracking it open an inch. A wave of lust enveloped her like fog rolling off the
sea and the walls of her pussy constricted in response. Helpless to resist, she
crept down the hall toward the sound and paused when the cries and the rhythmic
smack of something heavy hitting the wall grew louder.
“Come again,” a man shouted in a voice deep with need. “Now.
Now!”
“Yes. Yes! Lucian, take me with that big cock,” Amaryllis
screamed in one long breath that sent chills down Ari’s back. The cry then
broke apart in staccato bursts as if she were being ridden hard.
“Holy shit!” Ari clasped her hand over her mouth and
backpedaled down the hall.
Of course Amaryllis and Lucian had an active sex life. If
Lucian were her husband, she’d probably think of nothing else but getting him
alone and riding him every minute of the day. However, expecting them to have
an active physical relationship and actually being within earshot of their lovemaking
and seeing the walls shake with the fervor of their coupling was fascinating
and horrifying all at the same time.
Man, no wonder she woke up so horny. Her subconscious
probably picked up on their sexy vibe and let her imagination run rampant.
As the two lovers’ shouting became louder and the paintings
on the wall began to bounce on their hangers, Ari raced back to her room and
shut the door. Even then her brain flashed images of what the pair must look
like dripping with sweat and cum and wrapped around each other’s gorgeous
bodies.
The shouts grew louder and more frantic, and with them her
heart raced and sweat trickled down her back.
Sleeping through this noise would be impossible, and with
each moan and thump she couldn’t help but imagine it was her and Bale screaming
down the roof.
“Crap. I have got to get out of here.”
She riffled through her bag then threw it across the room
when she remembered she didn’t have a change of clothes. Maybe a previous guest
had left something behind in the dresser. The top two drawers came up empty,
but she struck pay dirt on the next where she found a man’s button-down shirt.
A pair of jeans in a size too large were in another drawer and she whooped in
jubilation before changing into the clothes as quickly as a seventh-grade girl
after gym class who had yet to hit puberty. The pants were two inches too short
but were covered by her boots as she zipped them up then stumbled out into the
hall and down the stairs while the sound of furious fucking trailed after her.
The noise traveled into the living room and forced her to
seek shelter in the kitchen, but that too was no safe harbor. Above her head a
light fixture swung back and forth like a metronome, keeping time with the
couple’s shouting until they spiked in a crescendo like a diva hitting the high
note on a hit record.
Ari wilted against the counter as the groans faded. Whoa.
That was intense. No wonder they looked so bright and happy. Who wouldn’t be
when engaged in a relationship as intense as that?
Creak. Creak. Creak.
She looked up and saw the light begin a slow sway back and
forth that grew as another round of moans filtered through the floor.
“Oh my God.” She covered her face with her hands. “What are
these people on?”
The longer she remained privy to their marathon sex session,
the more difficult it was going to be to look either of them anywhere near
their face come morning. Ack— No, not come-come. She shook her head. Gah, just
at
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