April lay motionless on her lounger, her face tilted toward the sun, her chest rising and falling in the measured rhythm of apparent sleep. Behind her closed lids, however, her mind churned with the weight of everything that had happened, even as she feigned peaceful oblivion.
Mark perched next to her on the edge of his deck chair, a paperback novel open in his lap. His eyes skimmed the same paragraph for the third time, retaining nothing. Instead, his attention ping-ponged between April’s sunbathed form beside him and the water-slick curves of her identical twin.
Vicky cut through the pool’s surface with deliberate, sinuous movements. Her bikini was a few strategic knots of crimson fabric that clung to every curve, the water beading on her tanned skin. She’d been watching him for the last ten minutes, a faint, knowing smirk playing on her lips. Each time he risked a glance, her sharp blue eyes were locked on him, seeing straight through his feigned indifference.
“The water’s perfect,” she called out, her voice a melodic trap. “Aren’t you coming in?”
He shook his head, gesturing weakly to his book. “Thanks, but I’m good here.”
“Oh, come on, Mark. Don’t be so boring.” She pouted, a theatrical expression that didn’t reach her calculating eyes. “April’s out for the count. Come keep me company. Just for a minute.” She treaded water, the movement causing her breasts to glide just beneath the surface, a tantalizing suggestion of what lay beneath. “Please?”
Every sane instinct told him to refuse, to pick up his book and actually read it. But his body was already responding to the challenge in her voice, the memory of her touch a live wire in his nervous system. With a sigh that was more surrender than annoyance, he set the book down and stood. He kept his swim trunks on, a flimsy barrier that felt utterly pointless.
The water was cool, a shock that did nothing to douse the heat coiling in his gut. He stayed near the steps, his arms crossed over his chest. Vicky swam over, her movements fluid and silent until she was right in front of him, so close her legs brushed against his.
“See?” she whispered, her voice dropping, becoming intimate. “Isn’t this better than sweating on the sidelines?”
He said nothing, his jaw tight.
She drifted closer until her body was almost flush against his. The water hid nothing. He could feel the soft pressure of her stomach against his abdomen, the brush of her thighs.
“You’ve been so tense all day,” She murmured, one hand coming to rest on his bicep. Her touch was electric. “Are you still thinking about the other night?”
“Vicky, don’t,” he warned, his voice low.
“Don’t what, Mark?” she pressed, her voice a silken threat. Her fingers, trailing down his arm, felt like brands. “Don’t bring up the part where you came inside me? Or how you were watching me masturbate last night?” Her eyes flickered with wicked amusement. “I saw you, you know. Your hand… On your cock… Getting all hard for me.”
A bolt of pure, undiluted shame and arousal shot through him. He tried to back away, but the pool steps were behind him. He was trapped.
“I knew you couldn’t resist,” she purred, her other hand sliding through the water, her fingers dancing over his hip. “It made me sooo fucking wet knowing you were getting off on the show.”
Her hand slid lower, brushing over the front of his trunks. He flinched, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth. He was already half-hard, and her brief touch made him swell to a full, aching erection in an instant, the fabric straining taut.
“Oh, look at that,” she breathed, her eyes widening in mock surprise. She didn’t wait. Her fingers slipped inside the loose leg of his trunks, her cool hand finding his hot, rigid length.
He gasped, his head fell back against the tiled edge of the pool.
“Vicky… Please… April… She’s right there.” The protest was weak, pathetic. Vicky’s laugh was a low, dangerous sound that rippled through the water between them.
“And out cold,” she whispered, her fingers finding their grip, tightening around him beneath the surface where no one could see. Her palm slid up his length, then down again, slow and deliberate, and Mark felt the strength drain from his legs.
“Just look at her, Mark.” She nodded toward her sister. “The good wife. The forgiving wife. But you’re not thinking about her right now, are you?”
He couldn’t speak. His hips gave a tiny, involuntary thrust into her hand.
“No,” she answered for him, her voice husky with triumph. “You’re thinking about the other sister. The one who showed you how you should be getting fucked.”
Her strokes became faster, more purposeful. Her thumb swiped over the leaking tip, spreading the slickness, making the glide beneath the water impossibly smooth.
“There it is,” she hissed. “You’re remembering now, aren’t you? Remembering how it felt to come inside me.”
“Mmm, I bet you’re aching to feel it again,” she murmured. “To feel me clench around that thick, hard cock of yours.”
Her words had been a filthy, devastating aphrodisiac. His mind had been a riot of guilt and images: Vicky beneath him, Vicky crying out his name. His breath had come in ragged gasps. He had braced his hands on the pool edge behind him, his knuckles white, his entire body tensing as pleasure, raw and urgent, built with every stroke of her expert hand.
His eyes had locked onto his wife’s peaceful face.
How can I look at her and let this happen?
But he couldn’t stop. The way Vicky’s hand slid up and down his cock, the way her thumb rubbed the tip and made his whole body shudder. It was like every nerve was wired straight to her touch.
Only behind those slit eyes, April was watching. Watching the way her husband’s body tensed under Vicky’s hand, the way he could barely hold back a sound as she jerked him off, hidden under the water.
He’s so fucking hard for her, she thought. Even after all the promises, his cock is still throbbing in her hand.
April could see him losing control, giving in to her sister right there in the pool. No, not just giving in. Wanting it. Craving it.
April’s teeth dug into her lower lip as her muscles locked in place, her skin both ice-cold and fever-hot. Rage coursed through her veins, righteous rage.
Yet beneath her fury, April felt a dark current she refused to name. Her breath caught in her throat as heat bloomed low in her belly, spreading downward until it pulsed between her legs at the sight of her husband coming undone in her sister’s merciless hand.
Vicky sensed it. Her eyes flicked up to meet April’s behind her heavy lids. She grinned, holding Mark’s cock under the water, squeezing and stroking. Her eyes locked on her sister, and the whole pool was charged with silent electricity.
She knows, April thought. She knows I’m awake. Knows I’m watching.
Vicky leaned in, her lips almost brushing Mark’s ear, making sure her voice carried. “Look at her, Mark. Look at your perfect wife. But you can’t stop thinking about me, can you? You want it again. You want me, even when your wife’s right there.”
Those words caused April’s pussy to spasm, a hot, helpless pulse deep inside her.
No, no, no! She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, but watching it happen, seeing her husband’s cock throbbing in her sister’s fist, it was making her so wet she could feel it leaking onto the lounger.
God. She clenched her thighs together in an effort to dam the growing heat, but it only made her more aware of her own arousal.
Vicky saw the resistance, saw the way April’s body betrayed her.
“I bet you wish your timid wife were more like me, don’t you? More open to trying new things,” she teased. “Like the way we fucked behind her back. Or how I’m about to make you come, right now.”
“Oh fuck… Vicky… you… you can’t…” he hissed, but it was too late. The orgasm was building, swelling, a tidal wave of sensation.
April watched, hypnotized, as her husband lost control, her excitement fueled by her sister’s words. Her breath got trapped in her throat, her clit throbbed, and she fought the urge to touch herself right there.
“Mmm, yes! That’s it, Mark. Come for me. Come now!”
It was the command that shattered him. With a choked, guttural groan, he climaxed, his release pumping into the water, his body shuddering violently as waves of ecstasy laced with self-loathing crashed over him. He slumped against the wall, spent.
April’s body betrayed her utterly. Her own fingers pressed against the thin fabric of her swimsuit, a desperate, shameful pressure that sent her spiraling into a silent, convulsing release that left her trembling on the lounger.
Vicky saw it happen. She slowly withdrew her hand, bringing her wet fingers to her mouth. Her eyes never left her sister’s face as she deliberately, slowly, licked Mark’s essence from her skin.
“Mmmm,” she hummed, a satisfied, cat-like smile on her face. “Just as good as I remembered.”
Revulsion and a treacherous flicker of renewed desire warred within him. He pushed away from the wall, his movements clumsy. “You’re insane,” he muttered, his voice hollow.
He hauled himself out of the pool, water streamed from his body, and he grabbed a towel. He didn’t look back at her as he retreated to his deck chair. His mind was reeling, his body still humming with the aftershocks as he looked at his wife’s face, searching for some sign that she’d seen, that she knew what had just happened, but April’s eyes stayed closed. Her breathing was slow and deep.
Behind him, Vicky watched him go, his essence still sharp and salty on her tongue. She sank back into the water, spreading her arms wide, her nipples hardening as they broke the surface. Power surged through her veins like a drug. She had him. She had them both. Their marriage was fracturing beneath her fingers; she could feel each crack forming, could see the way April’s body betrayed her, the way Mark’s cock betrayed him. And this was just the beginning of what she would take from them both.
****
Later, as the sun began to dip, April never let on that she had seen what Mark had done to her sister. But she could tell by his appearance and the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes, the way his hands shook as he toweled himself off, that the secret between them had been burning him alive. She decided to confront her sister about it in private and told Mark that she needed to clear her head and go for a walk on the beach. She barely looked at him, her voice flat, distant. “Just… stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
Mark nodded, too wrung out to argue, his gaze fixed on the tile floor as April slipped on her sandals and left the hotel in search of her sister.
She found her sitting outside, lounging in a chair at the far end of the patio bar.
“Vicky.” April’s voice shook. “We needed to talk. Now.”
Vicky looked up from her drink, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Did you come to lecture me about boundaries again, April?”
April slid onto the edge of the lounge chair, forcing Vicky to shift her tanned legs aside.
“I saw what you did,” she whispered. “In the pool. How could you? After I told you it could never happen again.”
Vicky took a long, deliberate sip of her cocktail, ice cubes clinking against glass.
“Oh, spare me,” she said, one eyebrow arching. “While you’re busy pointing fingers, let’s talk about what you didn’t do. You didn’t say a word. You didn’t move. You just watched from behind those barely-closed eyelids.”
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a silky murmur. “I felt your gaze burning into us. Saw your breath catch when his cock started throbbing in my hand. I saw your fingers rubbing your wet clit through your swimsuit. And dear sister, I saw how your back arched when you came from seeing your husband unload into my palm.
A smile spread across her face as April’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Face it, sis. There’s a version of me living inside you. The only difference between us is that I admit what I want.”
“I am nothing like you,” April spat, but her denial lacked heat. Her eyes, against her will, flickered over to the tiki bar.
Vicky followed her gaze. Two men, young, sculpted by hours in a gym, stood laughing by the thatched-roof bar. One was tall and blond, his swim trunks sitting low on his hips, revealing a trail of dark hair that led down to… there.
“See something you like?” Vicky purrs as she moved closer to her sister. “Look at him. Look at the way his shoulders taper down to his waist. Now imagine those hands on you. They’d be so different from Mark’s, wouldn’t they? Younger. Stronger. I bet he can pin you down and fuck you for hours without getting tired.”
“You’re… You’re disgusting!” April replies, but she didn’t look away; she couldn’t. She could picture it, the weight of him. The unfamiliar feel of a harder body.
“He’s looking over here,” Vicky whispered, her voice a hypnotic drawl. “I bet he’s imagining what we look like out of these swimsuits. I wager he’s imagining his cock sliding into me while you watch… just like you watched before. Would you like that, April? To see what a stranger could do to me? To see how hard he could make me cum.”
Vicky’s hand came to rest on the small of April’s back, a claiming, intimate touch.
“Or…” Vicky breathed, her lips almost touching April’s ear. “he could be just for you.”
The humid air tasted of salt and coconut oil, thick with unspoken desire. April’s heart had hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the pulse that had been throbbing insistently between her legs. Vicky’s words hadn’t just suggested; they were invasions, painting vivid, lewd pictures directly onto her mind.
“Just imagine those big, rough hands on your skin, April,” Vicky murmured, her voice a low, hypnotic thrum that vibrated through the scant space between them. Her eyes were locked on the blonde man by the tiki bar, a predator sizing up her prey. “Not like Mark’s. Not gentle. Not familiar. Something new. Now Imagine the scrape of his callouses as he grabs your hips.”
April tried to swallow, her mouth dry. She willed her eyes to look away from the man’s sun-kissed shoulders, the defined cut of his abdomen, but she was utterly transfixed. Her gaze followed the faint trail of blond hair that vanished into the low-slung waistband of his swim trunks, and a fresh, searing heat flooded her core.
“That firm body pressing into yours—” Vicky continued, her own breath hitching with feigned excitement. Her hand on April’s lower back slid down, fingertips brushing the top of her bikini bottom, a gesture so possessive it made April jolt. “—sliding deep, fucking you hard until you’re begging.”
The words were a physical blow. April’s mind, treacherous and awake, conjured the sensation. The weight of a stranger. The brutal, taking rhythm. A gasp escaped her, shaky and wanting.
Vicky heard it. Smelled the arousal on her. She leaned in, her lips grazing the shell of April’s ear, her voice dropping to a whisper meant for her alone. “He’s still looking. He can’t take his eyes off you. I think he likes what he sees. I think he wants to know what you taste like.”
“Ssstop,” April breathed, the protest a weak, airy thing with no force behind it. Her body was screaming the opposite. Her nipples were hard pebbles against the thin fabric of her top, and a slick, aching warmth was pooling low in her belly, a direct result of Vicky’s filthy narration.
“Why?” Vicky challenged, her voice slick with triumph. “You didn’t want me to stop. Look at him. I mean, really look. See how young he was? All that energy. He wouldn’t just fuck you, April. He’d devour you. He’d bend you over this very lounger, push your suit aside, and take you from behind while all these people sipped their daiquiris just feet away.”
A whimper had lodged in April’s throat. The image was obscene. Terrifying. Electric. Her skin prickled with a sheen of sweat that had nothing to do with the sun. She could almost feel the cool vinyl of the lounger under her stomach, the hot press of a hard body against her back.
“He’d spread your legs wide,” Vicky purred, her hand moving from April’s back to her bare thigh, her touch feather-light and incendiary. “He’d see how wet you are for him. How wet you are just from thinking about him. And he wouldn’t be gentle. Oh no… He’d drive into you with one long, deep thrust that would steal the breath from your lungs.”
April’s eyes fluttered closed. She could feel it. The sudden, shocking fullness. The stretch. The helplessness. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.
“You’d scream,” Vicky whispered, her own arousal palpable in the huskiness of her voice. “But no one would hear you over the music. Or maybe you’d bite your lip, just like you did when you were watching me with Mark, and you’d take every inch of him like the good girl you pretend to be.”
The reminder of her own voyeurism, her own secret climax, sent a fresh wave of shame and lust crashing through her. She was wet. Soaking. The crotch of her bikini was a damp, embarrassing secret.
“And when he was done with you,” Vicky continued, her narrative relentless, “maybe he’d come over to me. And you’d have to watch. You’d see him kneel between my legs, see him use his mouth on me until I was coming on his tongue. You’d see what a real orgasm looks like.”
Vicky’s free hand came up, her fingers tracing the line of April’s jaw, forcing her to turn and face her. Their eyes met. Vicky’s eyes were dark pools of victory and shared deviance.
“Or maybe…” Vicky’s thumb brushed over April’s bottom lip, a shocking, intimate gesture. “…maybe he’d want us both.”
The world narrowed to that single, devastating concept. The two of them. Tangled together. With him.
April’s resistance was shattered. Her carefully constructed walls of propriety crumbled into dust. A low, guttural moan was torn from her lips, a sound she didn’t even recognize as her own. Her hips gave a tiny, involuntary rock against the lounger, seeking friction, seeking relief from the desperate, building pressure.
Vicky’s grin was brilliant and feral. She had her. She finally, truly had her.
“That’s it,” she cooed, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Let go. Just imagine it. His mouth… here.” Her fingertip traced a slow, deliberate circle over April’s bikini top, right over her painfully taut nipple. April jerked, a spark of pure pleasure short-circuiting her thoughts.
“And his cock… here.” Vicky’s hand slid back to April’s thigh, her fingers dipping inward, just barely brushing the damp seam of her swimsuit. The touch was a bolt of lightning. April’s back arched off the lounger, a silent, desperate plea.
“Yes, that’s it,” she purred. “You want to feel that big cock inside you. To stop being so fucking perfect for once.”
From across the deck, the blonde man smiled, raising his glass in a slow, deliberate salute directly at them.
Vicky laughed, a low, rich sound of pure power. “Guess what, sis? He’s coming over.”
The humid, charged air of the tiki bar seemed to cling to April’s skin, a filthy residue of Vicky’s words. That suggestive salute from the blonde stranger wasn’t an invitation; it was an indictment. It confirmed everything Vicky had said, everything April felt—the dampness between her legs, the traitorous thrum of her pulse.
He’s coming over, echoed in her skull. April’s eyes darted from the approaching man to her sister’s gloating face, and something inside her snapped. The cocktail of shame, arousal, and sheer, undiluted rage boiled over.
April said, the word cutting through the tropical music. She shoved Vicky’s hand off her thigh, the contact suddenly revolting. She stood up so quickly her lounger wobbled.
Vicky’s smirk faltered. “April, what are you—”
“I said no.” April’s voice was low, shaking, but firm. She didn’t look at the blonde man, didn’t give Vicky another second of her time. She turned on her heel and stormed away, her bare feet slapping against the warm pavement, a frantic retreat from the precipice Vicky had tried to push her over.
She found Mark exactly where she knew he’d be: brooding on their private balcony, a towel around his waist, a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. The guilt rolling off him was a palpable cloud. He looked up, his expression a mask of weary apprehension. “April, I have something I need to tell—”
“Don’t,” she cut him off, her breath coming in short gasps. “Just… don’t talk.”
She crossed the room, grabbed the front of his towel, and yanked him toward her. There was no tenderness in the gesture, only a desperate, furious need. She crushed her mouth to his, a hard, claiming kiss that was more about possession than passion. She tasted the chlorine from the pool, the beer on his tongue, and the lingering ghost of her sister’s victory.
Mark was too stunned to resist. He melted into the kiss, a low groan vibrating in his chest, his hands coming up to cradle her face. He thought it was forgiveness. He was wrong.
April broke the kiss, her eyes blazing. “Take me to bed. Now.”
She didn’t wait for him to lead. She pulled him into their room, the door slamming shut behind them with a final, decisive thud. The dim, cool air was a shock after the oppressive heat outside. She pushed him backward until his legs hit the edge of the mattress, and he sat down heavily, looking up at her with a mixture of confusion and raw, hungry hope.
Her fingers went to the ties of her bikini top. She fumbled with the knot, her hands trembling not with nerves, but with a frantic, burning energy. The triangles of fabric fell away, and she let them drop to the floor. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her bikini bottoms and pushed them down her legs, stepping out of them without a shred of modesty.
She stood before him, completely naked, her skin flushed, her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths. She saw his eyes darken, saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, the towel tented over his lap.
“Look at me,” she commanded, her voice husky.
“I am,” he breathed, his gaze devouring her.
But as he reached for her, as his large, familiar hands settled on her hips to pull her closer, her mind ripped away.
It wasn’t Mark’s calloused palms she felt. It was the imagined scrape of a stranger’s rougher, younger hands. His hands.
She climbed onto the bed, straddling Mark’s lap, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs. He looked up at her, his expression one of worship and desperate gratitude. He leaned forward, his mouth seeking her breast, his tongue circling her nipple.
A sharp, electric jolt of pleasure made her gasp. But in her mind, it wasn’t Mark’s mouth. It was the hot, demanding mouth of the blonde man from the bar, his stubble scratching the tender skin of her chest, his blue eyes looking up at her with feral hunger. He’d want to see you come.
“Ooohhh gggoooddd,” she moaned, her head falling back.
Mark took the sound as encouragement. His hands slid around to cup her ass, squeezing, kneading, pulling her core tighter against the hard ridge of his cock still trapped by the towel.
A stranger’s hands. Gripping harder. Pulling her onto him with no patience. She pictured herself bent over, not this soft mattress, but the rigid vinyl of the pool lounger, that unfamiliar, powerful body driving into her from behind.
A feverish heat consumed her. She reached between them, her fingers fumbling with the knot of his towel. She needed him inside her. Now. She needed to fuck the image of that other man out of her head, or fuck him into reality.
The towel came loose. His cock sprang free, thick and rigid, pulsing with the same frantic rhythm as her heart. She didn’t give him a chance to move. She positioned herself above him, her own wetness slicking his length, and sank down in one smooth, desperate motion.
They both cried out. He, a guttural groan of raw, shocked pleasure. She, a sharp, breathy gasp as he filled her, stretching her in the way she knew so well.
But her eyes were squeezed shut. And behind her eyelids, it wasn’t Mark’s muscular chest she saw. It was a younger, leaner torso, glistening with sweat under the resort lights. It wasn’t Mark’s groans in her ear. It was a lower, stranger’s voice, grunting filth into her ear as he pounded into her.
“Fuck, April,” Mark rasped, his hands gripping her hips, trying to set a pace. “You feel… God, you’re so fucking wet.”
She began to move, rising and falling on him with a frantic, punishing rhythm she’d never dared before. This wasn’t making love. This was taking. This was claiming. Every hard, deep plunge was an attempt to obliterate the memory of the pool, to overwrite the phantom sensations Vicky had planted in her mind.
She rode him like she was trying to break them both. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, but she imagined digging them into the hard, sculpted delts of the blonde man. She threw her head back, her hair whipping behind her, and saw not the ceiling fan, but a thatched tiki roof, hearing the distant crash of waves instead of their ragged breathing.
“Yes,” she hissed, the word a venomous prayer. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
She chased it – chased that sweet release that Vicky had promised her a stranger could deliver. The fantasy was electric, hotter than the reality could ever hope to be. She didn’t want Mark; she wanted the faceless, nameless man in her head, the one who would take her without mercy, without hesitation, and use her like a cheap fleshlight.
Mark was just a warm body, a convenient stand-in, a cock to ride while she imagined someone else’s hands gripping her hips, someone else’s voice growling filth into her ear.
Her hips bucked wildly, her legs trembling as she straddled him, her pussy gripping his thick, throbbing cock like a vice. Every thrust was a revelation, her wetness coating him, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Her hands clawed at her own breasts, pinching her nipples until they were hard little pebbles, the pain only fueling her need.
“Harder,” she begged, her voice trembling, breaking like a china doll as she pictured her young stranger slamming into her, not stopping, not even asking, just taking what he wanted. “Yes, use me! Use me like a slut!”
Mark’s hands gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he drove himself into her with brutal, animalistic force. Never had his wife talked like that. So vulgar, so raw, so hungry. Mark could barely believe what he heard, what he felt, as April bounced up and down on his cock. Her nails raked his chest, her face twisted in something wild, almost feral. His cock was a fucking piston, slamming into her over and over again, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her that made her scream.
She could feel the orgasm building, a coiled spring ready to snap, the tension in her belly so tight it felt like she might fucking burst.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me harder! I’m so close! I’m so fucking close!”
Mark growled, his voice low and guttural, lost in the fucking frenzy of her passion. He slapped her ass, the sharp sting making her cry out, her pussy clenching around him even tighter.
“You’re such a filthy fucking whore,” he snarled, his thrusts becoming erratic, his own climax barreling toward him. “You want to come? Come on my cock, you slut! Show me how much you love it!”
And then it hit her—an ocean of pleasure that ripped through her body like a lightning bolt. Her back arched, her head thrown back as she screamed, her pussy convulsing around his cock in wave after wave of ecstasy. She came harder than she ever had, her body trembling, her mind dissolving, shattering, no, just completely GIVING IN to the hot, filthy pleasure that Vicky had planted in her brain. Her pussy milked Mark’s cock, squeezing it in wild, uncontrollable spasms, every muscle in her body tensed and jerking as she came, AGAIN, and AGAIN, her cries raw and desperate and utterly shameless.
Mark couldn’t hold back. Her wildness, her heat, the way she was writhing and squeezing him—it was all too much. “Oh god, April, I’m going to cum! Oh fuck!” His voice was ragged, desperate. April felt her body react, her pussy clenching even tighter around his cock, milking him, wanting to drain every last drop. The images in her head swirled faster now: the stranger’s hands, the rough grip, the wild, animal way he would fuck her. The fantasy was so vivid, so real, she could almost feel that other cock inside her, stretching her open, pounding her harder than Mark ever could.
“Yes!” she screamed, riding Mark for all he was worth, her nails digging into his shoulders as she chased the last waves of her orgasm.
“Cum for me!” she cried, her voice wild, hoarse, shaking the walls. “Cum inside me! Fill me up! Oh fuck, YES!”
Mark couldn’t hold back another second. His cock throbbed violently, and then he erupted inside her, hot jets of cum flooding her pussy, pumping her full with each hard, desperate thrust.
“Oh God, April! Fuck! I’m cumming, I’m fucking cumming!!!” he groaned, digging his fingers into her hips so hard she was sure he’d leave bruises.
The feeling was intense, overpowering, all-consuming—the thick pulses of his cum flooding her, the heat and wetness making April shudder and clench even tighter around him.
Mark’s cock jerked again and again, and rope after rope spewed deep inside her, so fucking much that she felt it leaking out around his shaft almost immediately, slick and sticky and obscene. April moaned, her pussy milking every last drop, her thighs shaking as the aftershocks of her orgasm ripped through her body. Fuck. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop.
She collapsed against his chest, breathless, her hair wild, sweat-slick skin sticking to his. Mark held her, still buried deep inside, still throbbing, his cock twitching in the aftershocks of their orgasm. April gasped, her cheek mashed against his shoulder, the lewd heat between her legs refusing to subside. God… she could feel the slick mess oozing out around him, sticky and obscene, dripping onto the sheets beneath them. Shame, lust, and wild satisfaction crashed through her in dizzying, shuddering pulses. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted it. How much she still wanted it.
Mark stroked her back, his lips brushed her shoulder. “April… Jesus… I’ve never seen you like that,” he whispered, his voice raw and shaky.
April stared at him, her face flushed and wild, her chest heaving, nipples still hard and glistening with sweat.
“You like that?” she rasped, her voice hoarse, almost unrecognizable. “You like when I fuck you like that, Mark?”
She couldn’t stop the tremble in her thighs, the way her pussy clenched greedily around his softening cock, still so full, so messy inside her. God, she could feel it leaking out, sticky and obscene. She couldn’t believe how much cum there was, how soaked she was, how much she WANTED it.
Mark just nodded, his eyes wide, still reeling, his hands gripping her hips as if he were afraid she would disappear. “God, yes. I love it. I love how you fuck me like that, April. I want it… I want you.”
She let out a shaky laugh, half-crazy, her whole body trembling. “You want me, huh? Even after what you did with my sister in the pool earlier?”
Mark’s face crumpled. He looked away, shame flooding his cheeks, his hands still gripping April’s hips like she might float away if he let go.
He tried to speak. “April… I’m so sorry. I don’t know—”
“Shh,” she whispered, pressing her finger to his lips. Her body still held him captive, pulsing around him with aftershocks. The heat between them hadn’t cooled—she could feel him stirring again, hardening inside her where they remained joined. “It wasn’t all your fault.”
He stared at her, his brow furrowed in utter confusion. The apology he’d been rehearsing died on his lips, rendered useless by her unexpected absolution. His cock, still nestled deep within her warm, slick heat, gave a tentative throb, as if questioning this new reality. “What?” he finally managed, his voice a ragged whisper.
April shifted against him, a subtle, torturous roll of her hips that made him suck in a sharp breath. The movement sent a fresh trickle of their combined release sliding down his shaft.
“You heard me,” she murmured, her lips brushing the skin of his neck. Her breath was hot, her voice low and hypnotic. “It wasn’t all your fault. Vicky… she knows what buttons to push. She sees the parts of people they try to hide.”
Her finger trailed from his lips, down his chin, over the pulse hammering in his throat. She was studying him, her expressive eyes dark and unreadable. The wild, feral woman from moments ago was gone, replaced by something more calculating, more dangerous.
“She saw you,” April continued, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that vibrated through his very bones. “She saw how you looked at her. How your body react to her? She knew you wanted it.”
Mark’s shame was a cold knot in his stomach, but it was being steadily, inexorably warmed by the heat of her body surrounding him, by the cadence of her voice. He was beginning to harden again inside her, a slow, definite thickening that made her breath catch.
“Are you—” He began, but she cut him off by pressing her hips down, taking more of him, making him groan.
“Am I what, Mark?” she purred, her voice thick with a sultry tease, a wicked glint flashing in her eyes—and it was nothing like what he was used to.
That look. Oh god, that is Vicky’s look.
But now it was on his wife. The realization hit him like a jolt; it was Vicky’s look, but alive in the woman he’d married. The thought lit him up, hot and wild.
“Am I angry, Mark? Oh, I’m more than angry, I’m furious,” she punctuated the word with another slow, grinding rotation of her hips, a deliberate massage of his sensitive flesh that had his eyes rolling back in his head.
Fuck. He was fully hard again, trapped in her velvety vise.
“But,” she whispered, leaning in so her lips were a hair’s breadth from his ear, “she also saw me. She saw me watching and what it was doing to me.”
Her confession hung in the air, thick and charged.
Mark’s mind reeled. My God… was she really aroused by seeing me with Vicky? The guilt twisted and mutated, becoming something else entirely—a dark, shared secret.
“I felt so guilty,” she breathed, her voice trembling with a raw honesty that shattered him. “But I was so wet. So hot. I couldn’t look away. And when you… when you came for her…” She shuddered against him, a full-body tremble, and he felt her inner muscles flutter around him in a tiny, involuntary spasm at the memory. “It was so fucking hot!”
A guttural sound escaped Mark’s throat. All resistance crumbled. His hands, which had been resting limply on the sheets, came to life. He gripped her hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh, holding her firmly in place as he finally, desperately, thrust up into her.
April cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her head fell back, exposing the long, graceful line of her throat. “Yes,” she hissed. “Yes. Like that.”
This time, there were no ghosts between them. No fantasies of strangers. There was only this: the searing, explosive truth of their mutual transgression. He was fucking his wife, but he was fucking the woman who had been secretly turned on by his betrayal.
The cognitive dissonance was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever known. He drove into her, his pace steadier now, deeper, more purposeful than their frantic earlier coupling. Each thrust was a claiming, an apology, a question.
She met him stroke for stroke, her nails scraping down his chest, her moans music to his ears.
April’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, a low moan escaping her. “Yes,” she hissed. “That’s it. You like that, don’t you? You like knowing your wife got off on watching another woman jerk your cock.”
He couldn’t speak. He could only thrust his hips upward, a shallow, instinctive movement, burying himself deeper inside her. The sheets beneath them were a soaked, ruined mess, the air thick with the scent of sex and confession.
“She thinks she’s won,” April murmured, her voice taking on a new, calculating edge. She began to move faster on him again, adding a sinuous roll of her hips that had him seeing stars.
“She thinks she’s exposed some secret, some dirty part of you that I can’t satisfy.” Her rhythm became more insistent, more demanding. “But she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know what I want.”
Her pace quickened, her nails raking down his chest. The pleasure was blinding, all-consuming. He was fully hard again, pounding into her wet, welcoming heat, each thrust met with an eager clench of her inner muscles.
“She showed me something,” April gasped, her breath coming in ragged pants. “And maybe… maybe I liked it.”
Mark’s world narrowed to the sensation of her body and the shocking, arousing turn of her words. He was teetering on the edge of another devastating orgasm, his balls drawn up tight, his entire being focused on the exquisite friction.
“What?” he managed to grunt, his hands gripping her ass, helping her ride him faster, harder. “What did you like, April?”
She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear, her voice a hot, promising whisper. “I liked watching you lose control.”
His hips bucked off the mattress at her whispered confession, a sharp, involuntary thrust that buried his cock to the hilt inside her. A ragged groan was torn from his throat.
She liked watching me lose control. The words echoed in his mind, mingling with the wet, slick sounds of their joining, and something dark and possessive uncoiled within him.
April felt it—the shift in him. The shame that made him pliant was burning away, replaced by a raw, answering hunger. His hands on her ass tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he began to meet her movements with a new, driving force.
“Is that what you want to see?” he growled, his voice thick with a lust she hadn’t heard from him in years. “You want to see me lose control for you?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. In one powerful motion, he flipped them over, pressing her into the soaked sheets. The sudden dominance, the sheer physicality of it, stole the breath from her lungs. He hovered above her, his muscular frame blocking out the light, his eyes blazing with a dark fire.
“Tell me, April,” he demanded, his voice low and gritty. He entered her again in one deep, claiming stroke that made her cry out. “Tell me what you saw.”
He set a brutal, punishing pace, each thrust jarring through her, stealing coherent thought. She could only moan, her head thrashing on the pillow.
“The way you… You jerked for her,” she gasped, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. Her nails scraped down his back. “The way your… your whole body seized up. The sound you made.”
He drove into her harder, his rhythm becoming erratic, fueled by her filthy recounting. “Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead dropping to hers.
“And your cock,” She breathed, her eyes locked on his, daring him, taunting him. “Pumping into the water. I saw every pulse. I saw how much you… gave to her.”
A guttural sound ripped from his chest. He was close, so close, teetering on the edge. But she wasn’t done with him.
Her hands came up, framing his face, forcing him to look at her. Her voice dropped to a husky, commanding whisper, laced with a wicked promise. “But you’re going to give me more.”
She tightened her legs around his waist, locking her ankles, pulling him deeper than he thought possible. Her inner muscles clenched around his shaft in a deliberate, rhythmic pulse, a milking pressure that dragged a broken sob from him.
“Look at me, Mark,” she ordered, her voice steady despite the pleasure threatening to shatter her. “Look at me when you lose control.”
His control snapped. His thrusts became wild, frantic, a desperate chase for his release. His eyes, glazed with pleasure, stayed locked on hers, just as she’d commanded. She could see the exact moment he shattered—the dilation of his pupils, the sharp intake of breath, the way his jaw went slack.
“April!” It was less a name and more a raw, primal scream of surrender.
She felt it, the first hot, violent jet of his climax deep inside her, and that was all it took—it set her off, right then. Her back arched up off the bed, stiff, her mouth open and silent, as the orgasm hit, raw and blinding, everything else just gone. All she knew was the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her, the heat of his release flooding her, and the way their eyes stayed locked, urgent and close, like nothing else in the world mattered.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, each one synced with a pulse of his own. She clenched around him, milking him dry, her body trembling violently beneath his. A high, keening whine escaped her lips as the sensations overwhelmed her, her vision spotting at the edges.
He collapsed on top of her, his full weight pressing her into the mattress, his body spent and shaking. Their sweat-slick skin fused together. The only sounds in the room were their harsh, gasping breaths and the frantic beating of their hearts.
For a long time, they simply lay there, tangled together in the wreckage of the sheets, drowning in the aftermath.
Slowly, sensation by sensation, the world filtered back in. The cool air on her overheated skin. The dampness between her legs. The heavy, satisfied weight of him on her. She could feel his cock, still semi-hard and twitching occasionally within her, a faint echo of the storm that had just passed.
He shifted his weight to his elbows, looking down at her. His expression was a complex tapestry of awe, exhaustion, and a dawning, profound understanding. He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips.
“Shhh,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Don’t.”
She didn’t want words. Words would try to define this, box it in, make it into something it wasn’t—or something it was. She just wanted to feel it—the strange, powerful stillness. The terrifying new landscape of their marriage, forever altered by a shared, secret sin that had somehow become their salvation.
He seemed to understand. He nodded slowly, then gently rolled off her, pulling her with him so she lay nestled against his side, her head on his chest. His arm came around her, holding her close. His heart beat a steady, comforting rhythm under her ear.
The exertions of the day—the pool, the confrontation, the two shattering orgasms—pulled at them both with heavy hands. Her eyelids grew leaden. His breathing evened out into the deep, slow pattern of sleep.
However, just before sleep claimed her, curled against Mark’s warm body, April’s mind blazed with one last secret: at the peak of her orgasm, it wasn’t her husband she imagined pounding into her, but the tall blonde stranger—his massive cock spearing her open, stretching her cunt until it burned, his balls slapping against her ass with each brutal thrust, his teeth breaking the skin at her throat as he growled filthy demands in her ear, ordering her to come all over his thick shaft while he flooded her womb with hot spurts of his seed.
Vicky’s filthy words had ignited something primal in her, something that made her want to be taken, used, filled until she broke apart and dripped with another man’s cum.
This was a secret she would never reveal. Not to Mark. Not to anyone. Maybe not even to herself.
I’m not like my sister, she thought defiantly, I’m not.
