Surrender to Marco's mouth — let him eat you out and don't think about what comes after.

2 Breedmore Lane living room, Maplewood Suburbs, at 9:43 PM on Friday October 31, 2024

I stop thinking. I let my head fall back against the cushions and open my thighs wider, and Marco's mouth descends on me like a prayer.

His tongue is broad and flat at first — a slow, deliberate drag from my dripping entrance to the swollen nub of my clit, parting my folds with unhurried precision. I can feel him tasting the mixture there: my fresh arousal layered over Derek's cum, still thick and salty inside me. He doesn't flinch. His tongue pushes into me, curling against my walls, scooping the remnants of another man's load from my pussy, and the sound he makes is a low, rumbling groan of satisfaction.

"Mmm," he breathes against my cunt, his lips sealing around my opening. "I can taste him in you. That's so fucking hot, Luna."

His beard scrapes my inner thighs as he works — coarse hair against oil-slicked skin — and the contrast makes me shudder. His tongue plunges deeper, lapping at my walls with broad, hungry strokes, cleaning Derek's cum from inside me while simultaneously igniting every nerve ending I possess. My hips buck against his face and his hands grip them, pinning me flat.

"Stay still," he murmurs between licks. "Let me take my time."

He moves to my clit — wrapping his lips around the swollen bud and sucking with gentle, rhythmic pressure while his tongue flicks across the tip. Two thick fingers slide inside me, curling upward, finding that devastating spot along my front wall that Derek discovered earlier. My walls clench around them — still tender, still stretched from being fucked for the first time — and the dual sensation of his mouth and his fingers sends electricity crackling through my pelvis.

"That's it," Marco growls, his fingers pumping slowly, deliberately, pressing against my G-spot with each stroke. "Your pussy's still so tight. Still swollen from taking that big cock next door. You're dripping, Luna — soaking my beard."

He's right. I'm gushing — fresh arousal flooding from me in hot pulses, my body responding to his mouth with desperate, involuntary enthusiasm. The orgasm builds like a tide — slower than with Derek, deeper, a rolling pressure that gathers in my core and radiates outward through my thighs, my belly, my trembling fingers.

When it hits, it's a full-body convulsion. My back arches off the couch, my thighs clamp around Marco's head, and I cum with a broken cry — my pussy spasming around his thrusting fingers, clenching and releasing in rhythmic waves as pleasure crashes through me. He doesn't stop — his tongue stays sealed over my clit, sucking me through it, extending the orgasm until I'm sobbing and twitching and pushing weakly at his shoulders.

He rises between my legs, his beard glistening with my juices, his brown eyes dark with hunger. His boxer briefs are tented obscenely — that thick outline straining against the fabric. He pulls them down and his cock springs free: seven inches, thick as my wrist, curving upward, the head flushed dark and leaking a bead of precum that catches the firelight.

"Luna," he says, his voice rough. He settles over me, the hot length of his shaft pressing against my slick, swollen pussy without entering. He grinds forward — the underside of his cock sliding between my folds, coating itself in my wetness. "I need to be inside you. I need it bad."

His hips roll again, his cock gliding through the mess of my cunt, the head bumping my clit with each pass. My body arches toward him involuntarily.

"I know you've only got a couple condoms in that purse," he says, his forehead touching mine, those warm brown eyes inches away. "And I know you've got a long night ahead of you. But baby..." His cock shifts, the blunt tip nestling against my entrance. "Derek already came inside you. You're already carrying his load. So tell me honestly —" He presses forward just slightly, the head parting my folds. "Would a second creampie really be the worst thing?"