Sarah´s adventures - Breakfast

The morning light filtered through the kitchen blinds, casting striped shadows across the table where Sarah sat in her silk robe, the fabric doing little to hide the swell of her breasts or the fact that she wore nothing underneath. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she could feel the pleasant ache between her thighs—a reminder of the night before that made her shift in her chair. Her pussy had been serviced well, feeling a bit raw. And she was horny again. She felt horny for the big cock of her husband’s friend Jake, who had stayed the night.

Her husband Mark sat across from her in his pyjamas, nursing a cup of coffee with dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept much, she knew. Every time she'd stirred in the night, she'd felt him awake besides her, restless, his hand occasionally drifting to his own penis as he remembered the sounds coming from the guest room down the hall—Jake's low groans, the rhythmic creak of bedsprings—as his best friend fucked his wife a second time. He had heard her cries of lust, and he had imagined how Jake's big cock was fucking her senseless, ramming her unprotected cunt with his hard meat.

He woke up again from the wet slapping sounds of flesh meeting flesh as Jake had taken his wife again at 3 AM, bending her over the bathroom sink while Mark pretended to sleep. His wife Sarah had screamed Jake's name three times, and Mark knew she only did that when she was cumming. Three times, before he heard his best friend grunt loudly and spew his hot cum deep against the tiny opening of her thirsty cervix.

But that was last night.

The guest room door opened, and Jake emerged shirtless, his hair tousled, his pyjama pants riding low. He moved to the coffee maker with the effortless confidence of someone who belonged there, who had claimed territory in this house and in this marriage. Her cunt was his now.

"Morning," he said, his voice rough with sleep. He poured himself a cup and leant against the counter, his eyes roaming over Sarah's body with undisguised hunger. "You look well-fucked."

Sarah felt her cheeks flush, but she didn't look away. "I am."

Her husband cleared his throat, his knuckles white around his mug. "Did you... did you sleep at all?"

Jake smirked, taking a long sip of coffee. "Some. Your wife's insatiable, Mark. I had to give her what she needed. Two times, actually."

“No, Jake,” Sarah spoke softly, before anyone could say anything, “You fucked me three times.”

“Did I?” Jake asked, looking surprised.

“Oh yes, you did, Jake.” Sarah replied in a sultry way, “Three beautiful, long fucks.”

Jake grinned, looking at her.

Before he could say anything witty, Sarah spoke again, “My pussy is still raw from your magnificent cock, Jake.“

Sarah watched her husband's face—the flush that crept up his neck, the way his eyes dropped to the little tent forming in his pyjama pants. He was hard already, just hearing about it.

"Sarah," Jake said quietly, not looking at her. "Show him."

She knew what he meant. Without hesitation, she stood and let the robe fall open, then let it slip from her shoulders entirely. She was naked beneath it, her body on display for both men—the marks from Jake's fingers still faint bruises on her hips, her nipples already tightening under Jake's appreciative gaze.

"Beautiful," Jake murmured, setting down his coffee. He crossed the kitchen in three strides and pulled her against him, his mouth descending on hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His hands roamed her body, cupping her ass, sliding between her legs to find her already wet.

"Still dripping from last night," he observed, his fingers sliding through her folds with casual possession. "My breakfast is getting cold, but I'm hungry for something else."

He turned her around and bent her over the kitchen table, her cheek pressed against the cool wood, her breasts flattened against the surface. Mark sat a mere two feet away, facing her, his breath coming in short gasps, as Jake freed himself from his pyjama pants.

"Ask me," Jake commanded, positioning himself at her entrance.

"Please," Sarah whimpered, looking directly at her husband. "Please fuck me, Jake. Fill me up again."

The first thrust made her cry out, loud and sharp in the morning quiet. Jake didn't start slow—he took her hard and fast, the table rocking with the force of it, her coffee spilling across the surface. Her husband watched, his hand moving beneath the table, stroking himself with two fingers as his best friend claimed his wife not three feet away.

"Tell him how it feels," Jake ordered, his grip tight on her waist.

"So big," Sarah gasped, her fingers clawing at the wood. "So much bigger than you, Mark. You never fill me like this. You never make me feel like this."

Mark groaned as he watched his wife being filled with meat, his hips bucking up against his hand. The humiliation and arousal warred on his face, but his two fingers didn't stop moving.

"That's it," Jake grunted, pounding into her with a rhythm that made her toes curl. "Take it all. Take every inch. I'm going to breed you right here while he watches. Fill that womb up so full there's no question who owns it now."

The words sent Sarah over the edge, her orgasm crashing through her as Jake kept fucking her through it, relentless, until he was burying himself deep with a guttural groan, pulsing inside her, flooding her with his seed for the fourth time in twelve hours.

When he pulled out, he didn't tuck himself away. He stood there, still half-hard, glistening, and looked at Sarah. "Your turn," he said, gesturing to his used, dripping cock. "Clean me up. With your tongue."

Sarah didn’t hesitate before sliding from her chair and dropping to her knees. She quickly took his flaccid cock in her married mouth and softly sucked on it, making sure his remaining cum would be hers.

"Keep doing it," he whispered. "Clean me, Sarah. Get me ready for round five."

Jake watched Sarah from above as she was making his cock twitch again while sipping on his coffee, already growing fully hard once more. "This is how breakfast works from now on," he simply said. "Every morning. Understood?"

Mark nodded; his eyes glassy with a newfound cuckold submission. "Yes," he whispered. "Every morning."

To be continued.