Her ass

“In my ass,” Lana says, voice wrecked and sure. “Finish in my ass. I want it there. I want to feel it.”

Adam is already on the edge. He pulls out of her cunt with a wet sound, lines the head up against her stretched rim, and pushes into her ass one last time. Deep. All the way.

The tightness drags a groan out of him. He fucks her through the final strokes, short and hard, grip bruising on her hips, and cums with a loud, broken groan, buried to the root, pulsing, flooding her ass with thick heat. She feels every kick. She moans into the sheet, pushing back to take all of it, ass clenching around him while he empties.

He stays a second. Breathing. Twitching. Then he takes his cock out, still partially hard, and rams it into her gaping cunt.

Lana squeals. The sudden switch. The familiar stretch after the tighter one. He fucks her for a couple of hard, wet strokes, using the mess, balls slapping, then pulls out for good. He drops onto the bed beside her, chest heaving, arm thrown over his eyes for a moment.

She turns onto her side. Snuggles into him. Cum leaks from her asshole, slow, warm, trailing down to her thigh and onto the sheet. Her cunt drips too, used and open. She does not move to clean it. His arm comes around her shoulders. He pulls her in.

They talk a little. How it felt. How full she was. How she liked the switch, the surprise of her cunt after she had braced for her ass. How he loved watching her take both, loved the squirt, loved the way she looked over her shoulder.

She tells him she is sore in the best way. He tells her she was perfect. The words get smaller. What hangs in the air, heavier than the praise, is the other fact.

Their last night. The flight already in the sky or about to be. Mia is coming home.

“Last night,” she says, quiet, against his chest.

“Yeah,” he says. “Last one.”

He kisses her hair. She presses closer, leaking, spent, one leg over his. Neither of them makes it into anything else. They drift off like that, the end of it in the room with them, sleep taking what is left of the night and the needs they fed while they could.

She wakes early. Gray light. Sore in both places. His arm still on her, heavy. She lies there and feels the ache, the quiet. He wakes soon after, as if he felt her eyes on him. They look at each other. No kiss yet. The morning is different from the others.

Airport morning. Real-wife morning.

Lana’s voice is soft. Clear.

“I have something to talk to you.”