Rielle has an idea for me

We walk out of Leigh’s (boyfriend’s) apartment shaking our heads. It takes me a moment to register that I can’t see Rielle’s car anywhere. “Where did you park?” I ask her.

“I didn’t,” she says with a sly grin. “I wasn’t driving.” At my puzzled look, she says with a little giggle, “When you started streaming your session, I was riding with Martina.”

My jaw drops. After a moment, I collect myself enough to ask, “You used earphones, right?”

Rielle giggles again. “Nope. I let Martina listen, too.”

“Let?” I ask. “Surely she didn’t want—”

“Not at first, no,” Rielle responds slyly. “By the time that extraordinary little cockwhore had her first orgasm, though, Martina was breathing pretty hard. Thank you for telling me where you were going; it didn’t take any persuasion to get Martina to abandon our errands and drop me off. It’s a good thing her boyfriend is home this time of day; I just hope she didn’t pass any cops on her way there, because the only thought in her mind was to rip his clothes off and fuck his brains out.”

“So I get your company for a while longer? Cool.”

“You’re so sweet,” Rielle purrs, giving me a long kiss.

Once we’re in the car and moving, she asks, “Do you have time to take the scenic route, baby?”

“Sure,” I tell her, wondering what she has in mind.

“Good,” Rielle replies. From her tone, she’s clearly up to something. “Turn here.”

I follow her directions, and soon we’re on our way out of town. She reaches over and lightly strokes my half-erect prick through my pants, then purrs, “I have no interest in another threesome, especially with that little cockwhore; I want you for myself, and I don’t want anyone else getting any ideas. But are you up for something else a little naughty?”

Rielle gives my cock a little tweak as she asks her question, sending a bolt of electricity through me. “Sure!” I say.

“Good,” she purrs. She points out a mailbox on the right side of the road not far ahead and has me turn off there. It’s a long driveway overhung with trees; Rielle has me stop before we are in sight of the house or out of sight of the road.

“Where are we?” I ask as I turn the car off. I’m a little nervous because the driveway is marked with a sign reading Private Property—No Trespassing.

“This house belongs to my great-aunt and –uncle. They’re out of town right now, so no one else will be using the driveway. Now . . .”