The lads

Linda hung half in, half out of the dog door, arms wedged tight on the inside, the rest of her helplessly displayed. Her dress was still bunched around her waist, her bare ass and cunt hanging in the open air, sticky with arousal from Tilda’s unexpected finger. Her cheeks burned, her chest pressed against the rough wood of the door, but the throbbing in her pussy told the truth, she was enjoying this more than she dared admit.

The sound of laughter broke her trance. Male laughter.

Her stomach flipped.

“Bloody hell,” one voice said, low and incredulous. “That’s Mrs. J.”

“Christ, look at her,” another whispered.

Gravel crunched. Trainers scuffed. Her son’s mates. She recognized their voices instantly, though she couldn’t twist her head to see them.

Her blood roared in her ears. Her son would be furious, but the thrill surged sharp and hot through her veins. She was trapped, bent over, cunt wet and shining, and now they were here. Watching.

On the other side she heard a click of a phone camera.

Linda gasped. “Oh, you mustn’t—” But her words sounded weak, breathless.

Another click. Then another.

“Fucking unbelievable,” one of them murmured, almost reverent.

Their voices were thick with excitement, their phones snapping shot after shot of her ass, her cunt, her helplessness. Linda squirmed against the frame, her tits crushed into her chest, her pussy dripping with shameful heat.

Then a hand tugged at her dress. She felt the fabric slide higher, baring her back fully. Another tug and the straps slipped down, the cotton pulled taut around her shoulders until it gave way.

Her breasts spilled free, heavy and swinging under her as she wriggled in the frame. The warm air kissed her nipples, hard and aching.

“Oh my fucking God,” one of them breathed.

Another laugh. A bold hand cupped her swinging breast, squeezed it, thumb flicking her nipple. She groaned, shame and arousal tangling into one helpless sound.

The cameras clicked. They took everything, her tits dangling under her, her ass spread by the dog door’s frame, her slit glistening as if begging for attention.

Linda’s pussy clenched, juices running down her thighs. She was exposed, humiliated, captured forever in their phones and it thrilled her beyond words.

The boys whispered to each other, laughing, their voices tight with disbelief and hunger. One gave her nipple a final squeeze, another tugged her dress down further so that it hung uselessly around her elbows, and then, just as quickly as they’d arrived they were gone.

Trainers scuffed away down the garden path. Their laughter drifted into the distance, along with the faint buzz of their phones sending pictures.

Linda sagged against the door frame, heart hammering, breasts swaying, pussy throbbing.

She should have been horrified. She should have been screaming. Instead, she was dripping wet, her body alight with the delicious shame of being caught, displayed, and used for their fun.

She wished they had went further.