Frustrated

Chapter 4 - Frustrated

Reed’s mouth stayed locked on Linsey’s breast, tongue dragging rough circles around the stiffened nipple while his free hand shoved her jeans and panties down her thighs in one impatient pull. She lifted her hips to help him, the movement urgent now, the earlier protest gone. He dragged the denim the rest of the way off and let it fall to the kitchen floor. Her bare ass settled on the cool counter. He stepped between her open knees, freed his cock with a quick yank of the zipper, and rubbed the thick, leaking head along her slit.

She was already wet.

The earlier hunger he had forced on her had done that. He pushed in with one long thrust, burying himself to the root. Linsey’s head tipped back against the cupboard doors. A sharp, broken sound left her throat. Reed gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks and started fucking her in deep, steady strokes that made the counter creak.

Every drive forward dragged her soft inner walls along his shaft. He watched the place where they joined—her pussy stretched wide around him, shiny with her own slick, the soft outer lips clinging to him on every withdrawal.

He leaned in and took the other nipple between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make her cry out. Her hands flew to his hair, not to push him away but to hold him there. Her legs locked around his waist. The wet slap of skin filled the kitchen. Reed’s thrusts grew harder, the head of his cock battering the deepest part of her.

Linsey’s breath turned into short, high gasps. Her walls fluttered, then clamped down tight. She came with a choked moan, body arching, nails scraping his scalp. The rhythmic squeeze of her orgasm pulled him over the edge a second later. He buried himself and emptied in thick pulses, hips jerking, the heat of his release flooding her while she trembled through the last waves.

They stayed locked together for a long moment, both breathing hard.

Reed kissed her—slow, open-mouthed, tasting the salt on her lips. Linsey answered the kiss with the same soft afterglow she always gave him once she had come. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck. For a few seconds it felt almost like the old days, before the quiet distance had settled between them.

Then his cock, still buried inside her, began to thicken again. The residual heat from Coco’s ass under his palm, the memory of the video, the way the frock had clung between those heavy cheeks—all of it kept the hunger alive. He guided Linsey’s hand down and wrapped her fingers around the half-hard length as it slipped free of her. She felt the fresh pulse of blood filling it and gently pulled her hand away.

“I’m good,” she said, voice soft but final. “That was enough for me.”

She slid off the counter, gathered her clothes, and walked toward the bathroom without looking back.

The shower started a minute later. Water drummed against tile. Reed stood alone in the kitchen, naked from the waist down, cock standing thick and insistent against his stomach, still glistening with both of them. The need had not left. It never did after only one round.

He pulled his trousers up without fastening them and climbed the stairs to the small room on the roof—the one he kept locked, the one Linsey never asked about.

The sex doll that usually waited there was gone. He had torn the last one open two weeks ago, the silicone body splitting under the same relentless use he could never fully spend on his wife. The replacement had never arrived. The empty room stared back at him. Frustration sat heavy in his chest.

He stepped back onto the open roof, lit a cigarette, and drew the smoke deep. Across the narrow gap between houses, Coco’s roof was visible in the fading light.

A single pink thong hung on the clothesline, swaying in the mild evening breeze. The thin, delicate fabric looked almost translucent. Reed’s cock jerked inside his open trousers at the thought of that scrap of cloth sliding up between Coco’s legs, settling against the soft folds he had only seen in the video, the same place Pete had stretched open and filled.

He turned away, forcing his eyes toward the opposite skyline. When he glanced back, Coco was standing on her own roof, barefoot, still in the same loose t-shirt and long frock. Their eyes met. She did not look away. Instead she lifted her phone and dialed.

Reed’s pocket vibrated. Unknown number. He answered while turning his back to her, voice flat.

“Hello?”

A soft, almost desperate breath came through the speaker. “C-come home.”

“Wrong number.”

“Reed. It’s me. Coco.”

He turned slowly. She was still watching him. The moment their eyes locked again she looked sideways, color rising in her cheeks.

“How did you get my number?”

“Society group chat.” Her voice was tighter now. “Are you coming or not?”

“Why are you calling me to your house?”

Coco’s patience snapped. “You dummy. Come or don’t. Your choice.” The line went dead. She turned and disappeared through the roof door of her house, the frock swirling once around her legs before the door shut.

Reed stood with the dead phone still pressed to his ear. The pink thong swayed on the line. The memory of her bare ass under his palm, the wet heat of Linsey still on his cock, the empty room behind him—all of it pushed him into motion. He went downstairs, changed into clean clothes, and found Linsey in the kitchen again, already cooking.

The smell of oil and spices filled the air.

“I’m going out for a bit,” he said.

She nodded without looking up from the pan. He left before she could ask where.

Coco’s front door opened on the second ring. She stood in the doorway wearing only a short apron, the ties knotted at the small of her back. The front covered her from chest to mid-thigh, but the sides and the back were completely bare. Soft white skin, the full curve of her hips, the heavy undersides of her breasts visible when she breathed. Reed’s eyes stayed on her face. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Yeah? What?”

Coco blinked, clearly surprised that he had not immediately reacted to the apron. She recovered with a small smile and pointed toward the living-room sofa.

“Sit.”

Reed walked over and dropped onto the cushions. Coco stepped into the open space in front of him, still smiling, and slowly turned around.

The apron covered nothing from behind.

Her bare ass—the same soft, heavy cheeks he had spanked a hour earlier—faced him completely. The faint red imprint of his palm still marked the right globe. Between them the smooth, bare cleft of her pussy was visible, the soft outer lips slightly parted. No thong. No anything. Just smooth skin and the quiet promise of heat.

Reed’s pupils blew wide. His mouth opened. One hand rose instinctively to cover it. The single word that escaped was rough and broken.

“C-Coco…”