the clever one

The fat guy was last. The door slammed shut behind the second one. In front of the window, the only light fell on Silke’s exposed, dripping crotch. The man with the wedding ring stood between her tightly strapped thighs, his short, thick, uncircumcised cock clenched in his fist. His belly was already resting on her lower back—warm, heavy, smelling of exertion.

“My old lady won’t let me touch her anymore,” he said, as if that were an apology to Mira and an insult to Silke. “At home, it’s just brushing my teeth and saying good night. And here, such a hot piece of meat.”

He slapped Silke’s butt cheek once. The fur on the bunny tail twitched.

“Soft. Open. Just right for sliding in.” He rubbed the head of his cock through her wet slit, through the white of the other girl’s, and nearly spat with satisfaction. “Such a little slut. Lets herself get fucked right by the window, and his wife doesn’t notice a thing.”

Mira didn’t say anything against it. She filmed.

He fucked her fast.

The thick shaft spread her already swollen lips, pushing itself bony and wide into her wet cunt, his belly slapping against her with every thrust. Silke gasped into the ring. The forbidden spot flared up immediately. Three orgasms on the cop. Two loads inside her. No right to a fourth.

“Listen to how she’s slurping.” He laughed breathlessly. “Horny, dirty cunt. My old lady’s bony. With you, there’s something to hold onto.”

His fingers kneaded the soft flesh on her hip and tit, roughly, insultingly friendly. Silke was on the verge of coming. Her thighs trembled. A sound rose from her, high, dangerous.

“Pull out.” Mira doesn’t “cut off the orgasm”; she cuts off the last half-beat. Pull out when Silke’s cunt clamps down tightly for the first time. No touching the clit. Wait until her stomach stops fluttering. Only then the next one. That way, Silke is left with a hole that fills up and stays empty—exactly the humiliation you wrote for her.

He pulled out. But he finished jerking off.

His fist around the shiny, thick shaft, his stomach in the way, two thrusts across her back, and he came. Warm. A lot. On the corset, on her bare skin, a surge all the way to his balls. Cum ran down into his jockstrap. Mira looked at him, puzzled. Silke didn’t come again.

“You said we could do it again afterward.” Mira laughed out loud. “That’s right. Stand up front.”

He walked around the block, his cock wet, the ring on his hand visible.

“Can I spread the cum around first? I want to do what you did with the bowl.”

Silke felt sick. Mira said, “Yeah, sure.” Mira had an idea. She fetched the bowl and placed it under Silke’s open pussy. The underwear was lying in it. Mira also wiped the drops off the floor with the panties. He made use of the time. He spread his cum on her nipples, on her areolas, and on her face. Her nipples glistened. So did the corners of her mouth.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be,” he muttered. “Rubbing it into hot flesh. My old lady would scream. You’re still swallowing, aren’t you?”

Silke liked that. That was exactly what she hated. Then she had to suck again.

The thick, uncircumcised cock slid between her lips—the foreskin, the taste of her and of him. “Make it nice and hard. You’re good at this. Better than the ones back home.” She sucked, drooled, sucked her cheeks hollow until he was hard again. Then fuck again. Pause. Fuck. Pause. Three rounds. Three denied orgasms.

The first time, he took her deep and fast, his stomach slamming against her, her pussy smacking. “Pull out.” The second time, slower, insultingly precise. “What a hole. And you’re not even allowed to come. Sad.” “Pull out.” The third time, Mira filmed the angle toward the window while he thrust into her and gasped, “Take it, you dirty slut. The old lady’ll never get that.”

“Now.” He came inside her. Wide, pulsing spurts, warm, against the front wall. Silke almost screamed but held back because Mira turned the platform and moved the light away from her clit.

“Thanks,” he said. He wiped his cock on her thigh. “Hot body. Really.”

Then he left. Pants. Wedding ring. Door. Mira had sent the photos to all three of them.