Afterglow

Emily didn’t register much after the third orgasm. Her body gave out, trembling and leaking and stretched beyond thought. Her moans had dissolved into soft, open-mouthed gasps, the last few spasms of her cunt and ass coaxing out every drop the boys had to give. Her legs were jelly. Her arms wouldn’t lift. Her head lolled on her shoulder, eyes barely open.

The boys held her up as her body slumped, still twitching with aftershocks.

“Shit, she’s done,” the one in front muttered, brushing damp hair from her forehead.

“Yeah, no kidding. C’mon—let’s get her upstairs.”

They didn’t wait for her to answer. She couldn’t have if she tried.

With practiced ease, the boy behind slipped out of her, his cock glistening with slick and cum as it slid free. A fresh spill of white dripped down her thighs. The one in front followed, grunting softly as he pulled out of her soaked pussy with a wet pop. Her folds parted wide, twitching, stretched and leaking.

Together, they lifted her—one under her shoulders, one under her knees. Her head lolled against the chest of the front boy, her tits still bare and sticky with milk, nipples dark and sensitive, belly and thighs glistening with the evidence of everything they’d done.

The crowd parted as they carried her up the stairs.

A few people clapped. Someone whistled. Phones stayed aimed. Emily didn’t see any of it. Her eyes were shut, her lips parted, hair plastered to her cheeks, completely out.

“Which room?” the taller one asked.

“Left at the end,” the other said. “He's out of town.”

They nudged the door open with a foot and stepped into a dim, messy bedroom—laundry on the floor, old posters, a cracked open window letting in cool air.

The taller boy started to lower Emily toward the bed, but the other slapped his chest. “Dude! Towel, towel, she’s still—”

“Oh shit—yeah.”

They grabbed a towel from the floor—half-folded, probably not clean, but cleaner than the blanket—and spread it quickly across the comforter. Only then did they lay her down gently, arms at her sides, legs still parted slightly. She didn’t stir, just gave a soft moan as her weight settled.

“Fuck…” one of them murmured, standing over her with wide eyes, his cock still half-hard.

“Yeah.”

They stood there a moment, taking her in. Her bare chest rising and falling, milk still beading at her nipples. Her thighs streaked with cum, her lips parted in a soft exhale.

Then they slipped out, leaving the door cracked.

Minutes passed. The party thudded on downstairs and Emily drifted off.

-0-

The door swung open fast and hit the wall making a loud bang.

Emily stirred groggily, her eyes fluttering open. Her mouth was dry, her body sore in that deeply satisfied, almost numb way. She blinked blearily toward the door.

“What the—Aunt Emily?!”

Mickey stood frozen in the threshold, hoodie half-zipped, mouth open in complete shock.

Her tanktop was still pushed up under her arms, tits fully out, the towel under her damp and stained. One leg was bent lazily, the other stretched toward the edge of the bed, her pussy still visibly leaking the evidence of everything the crowd downstairs had watched.

“Mickey,” she mumbled, voice low and slurred with sleep, eyes barely focused. “You need to call your mom.”