The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) by Jasmine Haynes, Jennifer Skully

thing. Some of them satisfying, some of them not so much. “Never, ever like this,” she muttered, curling her palm around his neck and holding close as he sucked and she rocked.
    “Let’s get those panties off, baby. I wanna be inside you.”
    It was awkward; she didn’t care. He pushed the dress to her hips as she settled back down.
    “Will you look at that pretty pussy?” He put his finger to her center, circling her.
    She hummed with pleasure, hunched over him, watching his fingers playing her. “Yes, just like that.” She gasped. “Oh yeah.”
    “You’re so fucking wet, baby.” He licked his fingers, went back to her. Her hips undulated, increasing the pressure. “Now reach into the breast pocket of my polo shirt.”
    She dipped inside to draw out a condom package. “You were carrying this around in the breast pocket of your shirt the whole time we were talking to Millie?”
    He grinned. It was wicked. It was sexy. “I saw her looking at the outline of it a couple of times. Think she knew what it was?”
    “Probably. That’s why she didn’t come back to the bedrooms. She was afraid of what we’d be doing.”
    “She was probably spying on us.”
    The thought was provocative. God, she was becoming a kinky exhibitionist.
    Then he was pushing her back on his thighs, unsnapping his shorts, tugging down the zipper. He’d gone commando, and his cock, hard and pulsing, practically sprang free. “Stroke it, baby.” His words were half order, half plea.
    Zoe curled her hand around him, bathing her fingers in the drops of pre-come, using them to lubricate her strokes.
    “Fuck, that’s good,” he muttered, closing his eyes.
    She leaned close, put her lips on his, whispered, “Do you want to be inside me? Do you want me to ride you? To fuck you until you scream?”
    The rain pounded the roof, and the humidity rose inside the car. It wasn’t the weather, it was them, their breathing fast and harsh, their temperatures rising, the windows starting to steam.
    “Yeah, I wanna fuck you, be inside you, stay there forever.”
    She tore the condom, held it out to him. “Put it on.”
    He rolled it down. She’d always found this part embarrassing, an intrusion, pulling her out of the moment, but the way he touched himself was sexy as hell.
    “Ahh. Ready.”
    “I’m going to fuck you now,” she told him, pushing his hands aside, taking him in her fist, guiding him. She rose above him, centered, and slid down, a sigh falling from her lips. She was so damn wet she didn’t need lube.
    The fit was perfect.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Her long hair flowed over her shoulders, her face rapt, eyes closed, lips plump. Spence held her hips, but she did the riding, slow at first, stroking her G-spot, taking her pleasure.
    Her body’s tight grip on him stole his breath, but he wanted it this way, slow and sweet, so he could watch her. Her face tensed, she gasped, bit her lip. “Baby, baby, baby,” she chanted.
    Perspiration beaded on her chest, rolled down between her breasts. He bent to lick it away, took a taste of nipple, too, then a nip of her flesh.
    “Oh God. Spence. Yes.” She reacted to his love bite, rocking faster, rising and falling, squeezing him deep inside her.
    “Fuck,” he whispered, laying his head back against the rest. Eyes closed, he concentrated on the feel of her. Her breath puffed across his cheeks. The cacophony of rain on the car drove him higher, became a part of the pleasure, a part of her. He was a teenager again, in the backseat of his daddy’s car, when everything was ahead of him, when hormones made it all so fucking intense. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, ever had. He’d waited almost thirty years for this. He lost himself in her, the sweetness of her flesh, the weight of her breasts in his hands, the hot, tight fit of her pussy around him.
    “Fuck me, Zoe, fuck me, Zoe, fuck me, baby.” The voice didn’t even sound like his, but he owned the emotions welling up