CHAPTER 7
The Ron who answered the door was not the Ron from the wedding.
His shirt was off, his face was flushed, his eyes were consumed by lust. Toby recognized it even if he had never seen it face-to-face: the wild eyes of a man interrupted just before meeting his goal of getting his cock wet. Impatience, dominance, lust, and not a trace of anything rational floated in the miasma behind Ron’s eyes.
For moment Toby was scared, but Ron seemed to be just as frightened by whatever Toby looked like. He was, after all, face-to-face with the husband of the woman he was trying to fuck.
“We’re just getting started,” Ron told Toby. There was a shimmer of hesitation in his voice, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should continue, or open the door for Toby, or perhaps thinking he should run away.
But he didn’t; he turned toward the interior, and Toby floated behind him into the room, the image coming into focus slowly, his mind rejecting it frame by frame, until he couldn’t any longer.
This was real. This was happening.
Heather was on the bed on her knees. The dress had been stripped from her shoulders and loosely piled around her hips. Her small breasts were heaving slightly with her ragged breath, both nipples puffy and red, the marks of another man’s attention on them in whoreishly pink hues. Her hands were behind her back, and she left them there, almost as though she were thrusting her tits forward so that Toby could appraise her offering of herself more fully.
Her lips were stripped of their red gloss, a tiny streak of it beneath her lower lip and smeared whoreishly to mid-chin. Toby’s cock throbbed and his gut was kicked in by all the possible scenarios that might have made her lipstick streak like that, all of them flashing through his mind as detailed images.
Above her open, well-used mouth, a blue scarf was pressed against her eye sockets, tied at the back of her head. It was only on further contemplation, as he walked unsteadily into the room and the door clicked closed behind him, that Toby realized her hands were tied behind her back.
Behind him, he heard Ron unzipping his pants, the plop of them as they dropped to the floor. Heather's lips were unreadable. They were not smiling or frowning, not frightened and not at ease. They were parted in an expression he had never seen before, or even imagined on her face.
He was frozen in place, absolutely unsure what to do.
And then Heather spoke, and her voice sounded like it was a million miles away.
“You decided to come after all,” she said, and a smile turned up the corners of her mouth briefly.
Ron brushed past him, and Toby barely noticed his naked form as he stood behind Heather and pushed her hair to one side to kiss her neck. His hands moved from her shoulders to her breasts, fondling them with long, wiry fingers. Heather's mouth fell open again, she sucked her breath in audibly. Toby stared at her nipples as Ron rolled them in his fingertips and they hardened into long buttons of tender flesh.
The scent of sex was in the air. Had they already fucked?
But no, Heather’s pussy was the predominant scent, and she had her legs apart beneath her crumpled dress, where the scent of Toby fucking her would be drifting from between her legs.
“We’re going to play your game,” Ron said, his hands moving down to Heather's hips, his eyes lifting to meet Toby’s as he pushed Heather gently forward.
What game? Toby’s mind raced, searching through the shambles of his mind for a game, any game, that they had ever played that would make sense in this context.
Ron suspended Heather by her arms, holding the shirt tie that bound her wrists aloft, above her hips, as he pushed the dress down and over her ass, until it was bunched on her calves. Her round bottom was tilted up, a white lacy thong cutting through the center, and Ron ran his hand over her skin, his eyes watching his own caress.
Toby, not knowing what else to do, left his eyes on his wife, fought against the vague nausea in his throat, and felt his fingers undressing himself. Unbuttoning, Unzipping. All the while, Ron made lazy circles over Heather's skin, and then hooked a thumb beneath the thong and slipped his finger artfully into the valley between her butt cheeks, eliciting a gasp from Heather when his hand moved lower. Toby could only imagine the journey Ron’s fingers were taking, into the fine, trimmed hairs on her mound, over the bunched pink velvet of her asshole, into the engorged red lips of her pussy.
Toby stepped out of his pants, shaking slightly. He was glad that Ron didn’t see him.
Ron seemed to have lost the thread somewhere, perhaps even forgetting “the game,” or perhaps this was part of it. He slipped Heather's panties down with a jerk, and then slipped his fingers into her pussy. Toby couldn’t see it, but he heard the squish as Ron cut through the swollen flesh and oozing juices to worm his way inside of her.
Toby was still paralyzed by both his confusion and disbelief, so he stared and did nothing. His cock bounced enthusiastically between his legs as Ron withdrew his hand and leaned forward to place his fingers in Heather’s mouth. She closed her lips around Ron’s pussy-drenched fingers and sucked them clean.
“Which game is that?” Toby managed to choke.
As if they had so many.
Ron pulled Heather back to her knees and placed her back in the position she had been in when Toby entered. Heather squirmed, making her breasts bounce lightly. The sheen of her juices and saliva gave her lips a glossy, sloppy appearance.
“The game where I have to guess whose cock is whose,” she said.
A smile. As if that game existed between them, as if this was something they did all the time. As if she were a completely different woman, the kind who sucked cocks blindfolded and not the kind who ironed hand towels so they would hang straight.
The raging, fucking bitch of a sexy whore.
The blood in Toby’s body raged so much that he had a moment of dizziness, and then he felt much the same way he had felt seconds after snorting his first and only line of coke during his freshman year of college.
Ron was now looking at Toby, wanting him to guide the next bit. Toby, as though he were operating a robot from another room instead of his own flesh, moved his body toward the bed. He pointed Ron to his right, scarcely believing that he was directing a naked man to get on the bed next to him, with his blindfolded wife poised to suck on their cocks.
But there he was.
This was actually happening.
Standing right in front of Heather, Toby heard himself say: “No talking.”
As if this were a game they played all the time.
Heather bit into her lower lip. The tug of her teeth on her puffy flesh was so sensual, so dirty, so final, that Toby’s cock squeezed from the inside out. He dropped his hand to steady it.
Ron’s face was pure carnal concentration as he put his knee up to the bed and climbed onto it, his cock erect between his legs as he rested back on his heels. Toby did the same, his whole body on fire. In his mind, he felt the sensation that he was shaking, but he moved smoothly, as if he did this all the time.
They paused for a moment. In the tomb of silence within the room, their breathing was loud, but it mingled unintelligibly like the sounds of animals among them.
“Hold my arms,” Heather said, her voice silky but firm. There was no doubt in Heather’s voice: she had a plan, and she intended to implement it.
Toby felt his grip on the reins of control slipping. But instead of frightening him, as he would have expected, the slippage aroused him even more.
Heather leaned forward, and Ron rose onto his knees, leaning toward her to capture the necktie binding her wrists. He lifted her arms by the tie, and suspended them above her yet again. Toby reached for the tie beneath Ron’s hand, and they held her together, the weight of her upper body dangling from the tie, her skin turning white where the tie bound her.
Ron released his grip on the tie, looking to Toby to indicate it was his turn. Heather swung toward Toby’s lap, her mouth open, seeking his cock. He used his free hand to push himself toward her mouth, grazing her cheek with the wet crown. Her open mouth found the tip of his cock and licked it, scooping up a pearl of precum and then meandering along the ridge of his crown.
He watched as she strained to reach more of his cock, exploring his skin as though she had never tasted it before.
Surely Heather would know the shape of his dick, the taste of his cum? He shifted her toward him, feeding his dick to her hungry mouth, and watched himself disappear into her hot wet orifice, her tongue winding in circles around him until he filled her so completely that she could only open and take it in.
Ron’s hand was suddenly on the back of her head. The image was disorienting for a moment, and then made Toby’s blood surge and threaten to send him over the edge, so much so that he had to briefly close his eyes.
Ron pushed Heather further down Toby’s shaft. Toby felt the squeeze of Heather gagging on his cock and had to shut his eyes again to stop himself from erupting in her mouth. Ron gave a shove – gentle, but firm, and Toby’s cock slid past the back of her throat. Heather’s lips made contact with his pubic bone and his balls. He was deep in her throat and another man had just pushed her head down to get there.
Toby put his free hand on the left side of her head and pulled on her hair, causing Ron to mimic his movements. Staring, he watched as he and Ron together pushed Heather's face down, then pulled her up. He expelled air, fought against a telling groan, and pulsed in her liquid heat, her teeth scraping slightly along his shaft. The sound of her mouth on his cock grew stickier, wetter, louder. His fingers clawed at her hair and he pulled her away forcefully, an orgasm threatening to blow his load deep in her throat.
Not yet, he thought painfully.
Ron grasped the tie and pulled Heather toward himself. Toby released her hands and pushed her head in concert with Ron, just as they had done when she sucked Toby’s cock. Toby stared at Heather’s lips and chin, dripping with spit. Her tongue emerged from her mouth to seek out Ron’s cock – it was fuller, thicker and longer, but not by much, in Toby’s estimation.
Heather made a sound as her hungry tongue explored this new cock. Toby saw flashes of the underside of her tongue, her lips as they thinned to accommodate the whole of Ron’s organ, the shake of her abdomen as she gagged, and then, with a little pressure from both Ron and Toby, she slid all the way to the base of his cock.
Heather pushed back against them, and they released her head. From there, it was her show. She bobbed up and down Ron’s cock under her own steam as he held her arms above her.
Then she abandoned him, and switched to Toby again, sucking him from tip to base twice. And then she switched again, finding Ron’s dick with his help, letting him feed it to her but moving her head up and down of her own free will.
Toby was close to coming, his balls boiling with cum, but Heather moved from cock to cock for what seemed an eternity. She worked him up and then left him, strands of saliva stretching thin between their dicks before falling in a neat line on the bed.
With her tongue against Toby’s shaft, she murmured, and the vibration of her voice stroked him almost as if she was sucking him off: “Don’t come yet, I want somebody to fuck me.”
Toby bent forward, trying to fold his orgasm up inside of himself, he supposed – but it was too late. He stared at the pulsing vein on his shaft, started to reach toward Heather to give her a heads-up, but before he could do anything, his milky cum was spurting from his shaft.
It splattered Heather on the blindfold she was wearing and partly in her hair. Normally one to lean back and out of the way on the very rare occasions when she sucked Toby’s cock to the end, Heather made the surprising move of grasping him and turning her mouth toward his erupting cum.
Toby stared at his cock disappearing into her mouth, spurts of cum splashing onto her lips. His final squirts landed at the back of her throat, and she continued to move her tongue playfully around his shaft, cleaning every last drop of fluid from him before releasing his trembling dick with a wet pop.
She smiled.
Toby was incapable of making no sound when he came, and he could feel the features of his face scrunched together. He had dropped the necktie and Heather’s hands had dropped behind her back again. She sat up on her heels, breathless, a smile on her face. Cum snaked down her skin, from her throat to her heaving tits, and she moved her tongue around her mouth to slurp up the splatters that had landed close to her lips.
Ron stared at her for a moment, and then, just as Heather opened her mouth to say something, he reached for her head, and pushed her down to his cock.
As Toby watched Ron pumping Heather's face up and down on his shaft, his cock began to stiffen again. By the time Ron arched his back and sucked in his breath, looking down at Heather to tell her to swallow it all, Toby’s dick was hard again. Ron grasped Heather’s head and pushed her onto him, thrusting his cock into her deep as he came.
Heather drank it all. When she sat up, other than a tiny dribble of translucent white in the corner of her mouth, Ron’s seed was all down her throat.
Ron stepped off of the bed, panting, and fell onto the second bed, behind him. Heather smiled. “That’s not it, is it?” she asked. Toby shuddered as something stuck in the back of her throat – probably a bubble of white cum that had thinned and then popped, draining down the back of her mouth, bitter and slimy.
He reached out a hand and brushed his thumb roughly over her lower lip, scooping up the drop of spilled cum and feeding it to her. He reached behind her and tugged on the necktie to loosen it until she could wriggle her hands free.
“Did I get it right?” she asked, as he did. “The first cock was Toby’s?”
Toby grunted.
Heather’s hands were free, and she leaned forward on her wrists, thrusting her ass backward. “I could tell by the size. I wonder if that would work with everything.”
Toby stole a glance at Ron, who was staring at Heather’s tits and stroking his cock back to life.
Toby looked back at Heather.
He had often wanted to fuck his wife like this. Like a whore. Bent over, hair pulled, pushing her head to the base of his cock.
But he never did.
Now, though, Heather seemed like both a different woman, and the same one he wanted to fuck, and so Toby gave license to his mind to actually imagine some of the more sordid scenarios he had pictured with Heather in them.
He shuffled backward to get off the bed, standing up, cock in hand. Moving quietly, he went around the bed to stand behind Heather. He was not exactly himself as he reached for the knot at the back of her head, pulling her sharply toward him by the scarf, smashing her body into his chest. He hooked an arm around her and felt the front of her body at his own leisure: her skin was wet and he glided over the firmness of her stomach, each of her breasts, her hard nipples. He dove between her legs and felt the juices welling up from inside of her, trickling down her thighs.
She wanted it. Whatever this was, there was no denying that Heather liked it, that swallowing two loads of cum had made her wetter than ever.
Toby pushed her onto her hands and knees. His right hand explored her gash, watching her body tremble when he slid over something sensitive, liking the way she was bucking against him. He guided his dick into her pussy, and slammed inside of her deep.
Heather was ready to fuck. When he didn’t start to saw away in her gash, she began to move her hips wildly, her pussy squeezing against him. He grabbed her hips and jammed himself into her deep, holding her against his pelvis as she flailed and moaned, trying to rock her body against his.
“Toby,” she panted, after trying for a while. “Toby, please.”
Toby said nothing, only wound his fingers around her right hip and squeezed hard. His wife was petite enough, and he had the strong fingers of a contractor, that he could hold her largely in place with one hand. With his left hand, he ran his palm over her back, up to her neck, her sweat burning against his skin, slippery and warm, smelling of cum.
Around his cock, the velvety insides of Heather's pussy pressed and undulated, side to side, up and down slightly. He continued to stroke her.
As he wanted, she eventually gave up, calming down, letting him take over. He moved his left hand to her puckered pink eyelet, and drew the juices of her pussy to the eye, swirling over them with a feathery touch as Heather’s pussy throbbed around his cock.
Heather mewled, and Toby began to fuck her, enjoying how she howled with pleasure, bucking wildly against him, barely seeming to notice when he plunged his thumb inside of her ass. This had always been a taboo with Heather, but she just kept bucking and letting Toby hammer her until at last she squealed and threw her back.
Her orgasm rolled around his cock, the pulses of her satin walls timed with each shriek she let out. She fell onto her chest, arms at either side of her, and let Toby fuck his cum into her, moaning with sensitivity, too fucked-out to mount a protest even as Toby hammered her sore clit with every thrust.
Toby blew a load into her after a few minutes, and Heather squealed at the final thrust. He stepped back, watching his dick as it slipped from inside of her, white cum in waves gushing from inside of her.
Heather began to push up onto her hands and knees again, just as Ron took Toby’s place. Within moments, Ron had shoved his cock – looking much larger, now that it was filling her pussy – deep into her. Heather gasped, her arms weakening, her chest falling to the floor. “Oh, oh no,” she was squealing. “I can’t… it’s too much… oooohh...” her voice trailed off as she fell to the bed, letting Ron fuck her relentlessly, her body scooting forward, her pussy lips stretched, her hands clawing at the bed.
“Fuck!” Ron exclaimed, looking at the ceiling and ramming deep into her. Toby had not moved, so he was close enough to touch Heather's thigh with his own just as Ron dumped a full load of cum into her overflowing cunt.
Ron rammed her a few more times, grunting as the final spurts of jizz exploded deep inside of her. Heather was making renewed noises of enthusiasm, her teeth biting into the sheets.
“Oh God,” Heather moaned. “Please don’t stop. Don’t stop, I need to come.”
Ron’s cock flopped out of her, and he pulled her shoulder to flip her over on her back. “Spread your legs open, make yourself come,” Ron told her. “Give us a show. Get me hard again, baby.”
Heather's legs flopped open, and she didn’t hesitate to slip her fingers into her wet, messy cunt, and start to stroke her clit with very practiced, fast fingers. Cum was gushing from her pussy, and it was so wet that the sloshing noises of her fingers echoed in the room. Heather's fingers moved faster and faster, until she lifted her head, almost as though she could see herself through the blindfold, and her whole body went stiff before she let out a long, strangled cry.
Her hand fell away from her pussy, and her legs fell open.
Toby was ready to go again. He nudged Ron aside, scarcely believing that his cock was hard again. He pushed Heather’s legs up to beside her ears. She was still in her red heels, and the image was incredibly sexy as he thrust inside of her and the long heels bounced next to his face as he fucked her again.
Heather complained, tossing her head side to side and saying she was too sore, it was too much, but before long she was into it again, sucking in her breath, pushing her pelvis toward him to grind herself against him more readily.
Now that he had come several times, even though he felt closer to an orgasm than he had probably ever felt in his life, including the moments preceding every other climax of his life, he knew it would be a while before he could come again.
Again.
How often had that happened?
Ron had come around to the other side of the bed, and was seated on the bed opposite, his cock twitching to life again, his hand languidly assisting.
Toby was never sure how the shuffle occurred, but it happened wordlessly. Ron must have put his hand out, his dark skin on Heather’s pale throat, somehow pushing her or guiding Toby to push her to the edge of the bed, until her head could fall over the side and Ron could push her calves until they folded down, toward Toby’s hips. The cool plastic of her heels scraped against his waist.
Ron’s cock was suddenly where Heather's face had been. Ron pushed the blindfold from her eyes, letting it fall from the top of her head. She was practically upside-down, her throat upturned to Toby.
And then, as Toby stared, his cock deep in his wife’s thrice-used pussy full of cum, Ron’s dick brushed against her lips.
She opened her mouth. The muscles of her neck rolled beneath her skin, tendons flexing to make her mouth big enough for the next part: Ron’s dark, meaty cock sliding slowly into her mouth.
Toby shifted himself to get up in a more or less horizontal position, lifting Heather's ass with two hands to keep her pussy on his dick as he got onto his knees and then his heels. Sure, he wanted to watch as Ron fucked her mouth, but not that close to him.
Heather lifted her arms and put them around Ron’s hips, clutching his ass. Meanwhile, Ron fucked Heather's face, the bump of his cock clearly visible in the white of Heather's throat as it traveled up and down inside of her. The sight was so obscene that Toby almost forgot he was part of the action and stopped pumping her, staring at Ron’s cock as he pulled it from her mouth to let her breathe. Rather: splutter, drool, and run her tongue over her lips might have been a more appropriate description.
But after watching this for a few deranged and filthy repetitions, Toby felt himself boiling up again. He stared at Ron’s dick pumping Heather's willing mouth, deep in her throat like a lump, Heather’s heels digging at his side as he came, hard, shoving himself as deep into her pussy as he could.
The staggering filth of what Ron was doing to Heather only hit him then, as he slipped from inside of her pussy and she dropped her arms to grasp her knees and hold her legs open for him to stare at her swollen, pulsing pussy, a river of cum draining down between her legs to her pink eyelet, which he stared at, wondering…?
That would be too far. Surely.
But the spluttering of Heather's mouth as Ron fucked her right in the face made him think otherwise. Heather would never have done any of this. Before. Now she seemed not only to want to do it, but as if she had a natural calling to do it.
Toby edged himself around the bed, exhausted. Ron did not seem to be, he continued to ram himself deep in Heather’s mouth and then withdraw, letting her breathe, rubbing his dick over her lips and lifting it to let it slap against her mouth with a wet spurt.
Toby sat on the bed to get a better view, and Ron gave Heather a playful slap on the cheeks. Two wet splats against her skin. “Open your eyes, honey. Let your hubby see what a whore you are.”
Ron was sawing at her mouth when she obeyed this command, opening her eyes and looking at Toby dead in the eye as Ron’s dick moved in and out of her mouth.
Her face was getting red, and Toby was starting to worry that she couldn’t breathe, that Ron needed to lay off, when Ron seemed to get the message telepathically and pulled his cock from her mouth. Heather gasped and spluttered, and Toby stared at her saliva-streaked face, her reddened lips, the unholy mess of it all, not noticing until he plunged into her again that Ron had made his way to finish himself off in Heather’s pussy again.
“Ohhhh,” Heather moaned in disappointment. She lifted her head to look at Ron. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, reaching for Ron’s body and putting her feet down to push herself up at him and grind against him. “Don’t stop, I’m so close.”
Ron let out a sharp exhale, grabbing Heather’s hips to stop her from grinding on his dick. Toby recognized the intense shudder that ran through his body: it was too much for him right after he came. He gritted his teeth and pushed into her, shuddered again, and then let himself fall from inside of her. Her pussy slurped as his cock fell out. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You are one wild whore.”
Ron scooted off the bed, staggering against the curtained window a few feet from the bed, and held himself against it, panting. Heather folded her legs under herself and rose up on her knees, crawling toward him.
Ron gave Toby a look. “She’s not done yet,” he remarked, impressed and also defeated, moving away from Heather's hungry advances. Heather’s naked backside gleamed with sweat and she turned to look at Toby. Her fingers were moving down the front of her body, he could hear them in the wet slosh of her pussy.
She met Toby’s eyes, her face hungry, almost possessed. It was the same look Ron had had, the same expression Toby imagined that he wore when he was nearing his climax: it was the only thing on her mind. Strands of hair stuck to her face, saliva and cum and sweat holding them to her damp skin.
A demented giggle left her mouth as she turned to face Toby, walking on her knees toward him. He was transfixed by her as she climbed off the mattress and crossed the short distance between the beds to Toby. She stood in front of him, and his hands floated up to her skin, his face inches from her belly and the feathery blond of her mound, matted with sweat and cum. She smelled like sex; it was oozing from her pores. Her pussy was tangy and sweet, overpowering the scent of bleachy cum that trickled down her thighs.
“Heather,” Toby murmured, as she pressed her body close to him. His lips were against her hot abdomen, the taste of her sweat and other, sexual, foreign tastes in his mouth suddenly. He wasn’t sure if she would push him back and sit on his face, which he didn’t really want to do, but felt unable to stop if it happened.
Instead, she climbed onto his lap, pushing him so that he edged backward on the bed. Her legs were spread over him, her thigh muscles hardened with effort as she found his cock with her hand and guided it between her drenched pussy lips.
Toby’s cock was coming reluctantly back to life again, pulsing with fresh surges of blood as she gripped him. He felt her clit against the tip of his dick as she used his crown to masturbate herself, the juices of her pussy, Ron's cum, his own cum, pouring from her cheating pussy and over his cock. The hot liquid drained down to his balls, between his legs.
Heather held his gaze fiercely, her blue eyes distant, looking through him more than at him, while she rubbed herself with his cock until her whole body grew stiff and the nails of her left hand dug into the flesh of his shoulder. “Oh God,” she gasped, “oh fuck, I’m going to come...”
Her voice was squeezed to a strangled, unintelligible gasp as a violent shudder overtook her, and her back arched, pushing her pussy forward and roughly onto Toby’s cock. Her pussy was already throbbing, pulsing, gushing out her own cum, as he slipped inside of her.
If he had been even remotely soft before she did this, the sensation of pushing into her pussy while she came overrode any biological restrictions on his libido. He was suddenly very hard inside of her, staring at her tits as she threw her head back and bounced lasciviously on his cock.
Her thighs began to tremble, her weight fell onto him, and he tried again to get going inside of her, but Heather’s eyes flew open and she pushed against him. “Oh God,” she said, half-exhausted, with a shudder. “I can’t, I’m too sore...”
She shifted off of his cock and collapsed on the bed next to him. Toby’s gut felt wrenched, she looked as if she might have to lie there, exhausted, and again he was hungry to fuck her, as astounding as that seemed.
He started to turn toward her, forgetting that Ron was even in the room – Ron had moved to a small couch at the foot of the bed and collapsed there, watching.
Heather surprised him though, by sliding to the floor, almost as if she were collapsing. Confused, Toby stared as Heather knelt in front of him and took his cock into her mouth. Her eyes were on his, her mascara streaked, the picture of utter slutdom. She stared up at him as she sucked him off, her tongue working inside her mouth, making sensual circles around his shaft.
He put his hand on her head and pushed her into a rhythmic sucking of his dick. When she got into it, still looking at him, he leaned back on his elbows. He could feel the pained expression of his face: part too much sensitivity on his overused cock, part the splendid and glorious pain of seeing his wife so debased, and part the gnawing strain of trying to come again – needing to come again – for the third time in less than an hour.
Heather let his cock fall from her mouth, and something about the way she rubbed his dick over her lips told him her jaw was sore. She started to give him a hand job, grinning with her mouth just inches from his dick. Every now and then she would tease the tip of his cock with a wet lick from her tongue.
Toby braced himself as his climax began to seize his entire body. He felt a little faint for a moment, and wasn’t sure if he would survive this next event, but Heather’s grip on his dick was firm, her eyes burning into his, and he was going, whether he wanted to or not.
He yelled as he came, almost needing to shut his eyes from the violence of the climax. When he opened them, his cum was spurting out onto Heather's tits in thick ropes, more clear than white, the last of his load. His abdomen spasmed as the last spurts erupted, covering Heather’s chest in two more glistening streaks of cum.
“Fuck,” he said, wrenching her still-moving hand from his dick, leaning toward her, reaching for her sticky chest. “Fuck, Heather, that was so hot.”
He fingered the slimy cum on her chest, spreading it into her skin, drawing it up to her mouth and feeding it to her off his fingertips. Heather sucked his fluids from his fingers with wet, sloppy sounds that Toby felt sure would have Ron rising to the occasion again. He couldn't go again himself, he was thinking, and wondering how to pry his slutty wife from this room, or whether to pry his wife away, if she still wanted more.
He didn’t hear the door click, or the bang as the drunken party entering threw it open. Their voices came to him through the miasma of his thoughts, reaching him much more slowly than the drunken couple from the previous party.
“Oh my God!” a girl’s voice said, ripping him from his stupor. Heather looked over at them at the same time that Toby did. The guy was staring at Heather, and the girl was staring at Ron.
A panging sense of trouble and guilt started rushing in to fill the void left by Toby’s orgasm.
But Heather, standing up and pushing her hair from her face in one graceful moment, teetering only slightly on her heels, saved the moment with grace. “Sorry,” she said, her voice hardly indicating that she was. It was the apology of politeness, the kind of thing you said when you bumped into someone else’s cart in the grocery store.
The couple were rendered silent, the girl crossing her arms and glaring at Ron, who waved his hands limply as if the whole thing had happened without him having any control over it whatsoever.
She turned furiously to her male companion, who was still staring at Heather, who had turned to fish her dress from the tangle of sheets on the bed. “What about Cassie?!” she whispered harshly.
The guy made a noise, absolving himself of any knowledge or blame for whatever was happening with the all-purpose male grunt.
Heather looked at Toby as she slipped her dress over her head, raising her eyebrows. “Better find your pants,” she told him.
The girl whacked her male companion and stormed out of the hotel room. Toby jumped to life at the same time as Ron, and Heather grinned as she scooped a pair of pants from the floor and tossed them in Ron’s direction. Toby found his pants but was having trouble getting them on. His legs were weak, his hands shaking, and the drunkenness that had so warmly enveloped him just moments before was now flooding back into his system as some kind of de-coordination elixir.
Heather pushed him gently on his lower back. “I can’t find my shirt,” he said in a low voice.
“Just go,” Heather said, as if she were removing him from a house party where he had gotten too drunk. Her fingers pressed against the small of his back.
They left awkwardly, Heather dashing back to grab her purse. The door closed on Ron and the male companion starting to argue mildly.
Heather looked both ways down the hallway, and then grabbed Toby to pull him toward the stairs. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered fiercely, but when she looked back at Toby he was relieved to see that she had a wicked grin on her face. “Before that crazy chick comes back.”
She kicked off her heels, which Toby found amusing after all that had just happened. She grabbed them, and pulled Toby’s arm. He remembered that he had no shirt on, and felt for his phone in a panic, but found it in his pocket.
They ran, laughing, toward the stairs. Outside, the first very weak rays of light were emerging in the sky.