Rem's Fun

Chapter 103 - Rem's Fun

Later that night, Rem slipped out of her room on bare, careful feet.

The hallway was dark and quiet, the kind of thick silence that made every soft pad of her soles against the cool wood floor sound too loud. She could feel the slight chill of the air on her bare legs, the thin cotton of her nightshirt brushing her thighs with every step. Her pulse was already climbing, a steady thud under her ribs.

She padded to May’s door first and eased it open a crack. Empty. The bed was undisturbed, sheets still smooth and cold in the moonlight leaking through the half-drawn curtains. The faint scent of May’s perfume hung in the air—something soft and floral—but no body heat, no breathing.

Her pulse quickened.

She turned and moved toward Mike’s room instead. With every soft step, the sounds grew clearer—May’s low, breathy moans rising and falling in a steady rhythm of pure, shameless pleasure. Wet, rhythmic. The unmistakable slap of skin on skin. Rem’s mouth went dry. She dropped to her knees in front of the door, the hard floor biting into her kneecaps, and pressed one eye to the keyhole.

The scene inside hit her like a fist.

May was face-down on the bed, blue-black hair spilled wildly across her bare, sweat-damp back. The long strands stuck to the curve of her spine in dark, wet ribbons. Her fingers were locked tight in the sheets, knuckles white, dragging the fabric into tight fists with every forward rock of her body.

Her whole body moved in short, horizontal strokes—hips pushed back to meet him, then driven forward again by the force of his thrusts. Mike knelt behind her, both hands clamped hard on the soft naked curve of her waist, fingers digging deep enough to leave red marks. His hips slammed forward in a relentless pace, the thick root of his cock vanishing between her spread thighs again and again. Every thrust drove him deep; every impact of his hips against the thick, jiggling meat of her ass produced a sharp, wet slap that echoed through the room like a filthy metronome. The sound of her soaked pussy taking him was even wetter—obscene, squelching, greedy.

Rem’s hand rose to her own small chest. She squeezed and rolled her tits through the thin fabric of her nightshirt while she watched, eyes never leaving the keyhole. Her nipples hardened into tight, aching peaks under her fingers. The friction of the cotton against them made her bite her lip.

Inside, Mike dropped forward, chest pressed flat against May’s sweat-slick back, still buried to the hilt. The new angle let him dig even deeper in the tight prone-bone position. His weight pinned her. His hips kept pistoning, short and brutal now, the head of his cock punching into places that made May’s moans crack higher—broken, desperate, almost animal. Her thick ass bounced and rippled with every impact. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier; Rem could practically smell the sex from the hallway—hot cunt, sweat, skin.

Rem tugged the neckline of her nightshirt down with shaky fingers, freeing both small, cute breasts to the cool air. The sudden chill made her nipples tighten even harder. One hand stayed on them, pinching and tugging the stiff peaks until they burned. The other slid between her bare thighs and found her already slick clit. She was soaked—her folds slippery, her entrance pulsing. She rubbed in tight, urgent circles while she watched her stepbrother fuck their mother into the mattress. Her own breath came short and quiet. The soft, wet sound of her fingers working her clit mixed with the louder, wetter soundtrack from the other side of the door.

“Harder—harder—harder—” May begged, voice muffled by the sheets, raw and broken.

Outside the door, Rem’s own soft moans slipped out under her breath.

“Yes… more… slam her pussy more, Mike… yes…”

Her fingers worked faster. Two of them dipped lower, sliding into her own tight heat just enough to feel how ready she was, then back up to her clit. The wet sounds from inside the room mixed with the wet sounds of her own hand. Heat coiled tight and sudden low in her belly. Rem’s thighs locked. A sharp, silent orgasm ripped through her; she bit her lip hard enough to taste copper to keep from crying out as she came on her own fingers right there in the hallway. Her cunt clenched around nothing, juices dripping down onto her wrist, her small tits heaving under the cool air.

Inside, May’s body seized at almost the same moment. Her back arched hard under Mike’s weight, pussy clenching in visible, rhythmic spasms around the thick cock still pounding her. A long, shattered moan tore out of her as she climaxed, the sound half-swallowed by the sheets. Mike didn’t stop. He kept driving into her soaked, fluttering cunt, the wet slap of skin and the filthy, continuous sound of her juices being fucked out of her filling the room. Her ass jiggled and shook with every thrust; her fingers stayed locked in the sheets like she was holding on for dear life.

Rem stayed on her knees a few more seconds, breathing hard, the aftershocks still fluttering through her. She watched them stay locked together like two animals that refused to separate—Mike’s hips still moving, May’s body still taking it, both of them slick with sweat and sex.

Then she slowly stood, the cool air kissing the wetness on her thighs, adjusted her nightshirt over her still-hard nipples, and padded silently back to her own room, leaving them to finish whatever they were going to finish.

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