Dirty Little Couples–Chet & Beatrice

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Beatrice leaned over the sink in the guest bathroom.  An over-the-top dinner party churned in the large dinning and living rooms just across the hall.  She’d walked up behind her husband as he spoke with his boss and whispered in his ear. “Bathroom, ten minutes.”  Her hand swiped down and grabbed a handful of his ass before she’d slipped away.

Now, she waited. He had less than a minute to meet the deadline, and she’d dismissed three party guests from entering already.  She touched up her lip-gloss in the mirror as a knock reverberated softly through the oversized bathroom.

“Pineapple,” she called—their code word.

The door clicked open and closed again before she saw Chet’s dark blue suit in the mirror, his hands as they appeared on her hips over her simple black dress.  His icy blue eyes looked at her reflection as he kissed the side of her neck.

A smile filled out her features as warmth bloomed down her belly.  Her dress gathered in his hands as the hem inched its way up her thighs.  Beatrice smoothed her gloss and put her applicator back in her clutch on the counter, gasping as her husband shoved his trouser-covered-erection against her bare ass cheeks.

“Let’s just get these out of the way, darling.”  Her panties dropped down her thighs to a tiny puddle of cloth around her feet before Chet bent, gathered them in his large hand, and hid them away in his jacket pocket.

Moisture gathered between her thighs as his hands found her bare legs, just above her knees, where he lifted her onto the edge of the counter.  The cold of the marble burned her knees and rose up into that triangle between them.

Heat combated the cold as her husband bent and drew his tongue over her folds. Her hands found the mirror, and she arched her back, lifting her hips and butt, and Chet rewarded her with another slow, wide swipe from his tongue.  Beatrice’s nipples hardened against the loose fabric of her dress as the tip of his tongue broke the seal of her folds completely.

“Spread them wider for me, give me access.”  His warm hands found her waist and pushed her lower, spreading her legs so that barely an inch separated her sex form the marble counter.

Tightness gathered in her limbs, and she couldn’t be sure how long she could keep this way.  But her compliance rewarded her with the fat head of his cock and his soft groan as he worked his way inside of her.

Beatrice tried to relax for him, but his sharp thrusts made her body ripple.  He filled her so completely and then some.  She could barely breathe through the pleasure, her body shaking until the moment he’d buried himself completely inside of her.  A low moan ripped form her as her body convulsed around him, drenching them both in the wetness of her first orgasm.

Chet’s hand appeared on the mirror beside hers, his other gripping her, holding her steady as rammed his hips against hers, hitting the very end of her with each stroke. The bouncing of their movements warmed the muscles in her thighs and hips so that she could roll herself with him, over him, sharpening the angles of her penetration.

His hips slowed as hers gained momentum, and she watched him lean back to watch her ass bounce.  When his gaze met hers in the mirror, the wanton heat behind the ice in his eyes made her crazy, sent her hips in circles.  And his gaze fell, back to watching her move.

“Yes, sweetheart, ride me.”

Chet’s cock jerked inside her to show her his approval.  His hand smoothed up her body under her dress, fingertips across her stomach, over her ribs, cupping the underside of her breast. Rolling his thumb over her nipple sent a shudder through her and renewed her attentions to the way cock opened and filled her, stretching with each rotation.  Beatrice’s orgasm built again, making her hungry for his.

A large hand cupped her throat, not squeezing, but controlling and stabilizing her.  Chet drew her back from the mirror, sharpening the curve of her back.  His mouth appeared at her ear as he thrust into with renewed.  “Come on me, make me come with you.”

A jangle of the doorknob vibrated a low moan from her chest. She gulped, twice, before she hoarsely called, “Occupied.”

Beatrice couldn’t keep her moans in any longer with her husband pounding his hips against her ass as he was, his head scraping and striking at her womb.  The intense pleasure shook her, but she held on as long as she could, squeezing and squeezing.

“Take me with you,” Chet ground out in her ear again.

And she obeyed. With a great convulsion, she clamped down around her husband, milking him as his rush of pleasure filled her.

She collapsed against the mirror; Chet’s hands roamed her body once more, moving downwards as he ground himself against her.  His smile spread across her shoulder before he laid down a kiss and eased her aching legs down and her feet to the floor.  Her dress lowered around their joining.  Still filled with him, she gasped, the tendrils of her orgasms latched onto her.

Husky and deep, her husband’s voice caressed her along with the ghost of their pleasure.  “Brilliant as always, sweetheart.”

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