July heat suffocates. Car’s AC dead. I park in front of Paul and Beatrice’s house. Sweat soaks my shirt, pants cling like skin. Door swings open. Beatrice glows in a short, light dress. Curves scream temptation. Paul’s jealousy makes sense now.
Banal chat. She offers terrace shade, iced white wine. Eyes my drenched clothes. ‘Shower?’ Hell yes. No change? ‘Paul’s size matches yours.’
The Fever
Water cascades cool. Bliss after the oven. Soap slicks my palm. Hand wraps cock. Hard instantly. Fantasize her. Naked. Sucking Paul. Tongue swirls glans. Lips milk shaft. Balls cupped. He erupts on her face. She laps clean. Stroke faster. Cum jets. Shame hits. Rinse quick. Towel off. Robe on.
Her bedroom. Linen pants, white shirt. No underwear. Drawer yields string. Snug. Peek next drawer. Lace paradise. White silk bustier, cut-out cups for nipples. Pastels tempt. Door knock. ‘Found it?’ ‘Yes.’ Troubled voice.
Terrace. She sits. Wine pours. Leg shifts—white lace flashes. Bends forward. Breasts swing free, nipples peek. Cock twitches. Heart races. Talk jealousy. Paul snaps at waiters. I kneel. Hands on thighs. Skin hot silk. Lips brush. Perfume intoxicates. Fingers under dress. Panties lace. Breathe musk.
The Blaze
Tongue teases fabric. She spreads. String slides down. Kisses trail legs. Trembles. Pussy shaved smooth. Nectar beads. Lips seal. Tongue dives. Clit swells. Gyrates. Finger in. Wet heat grips. Second joins. Stroke walls. Suck hard. Floods my mouth. Fingers piston. ‘Yes! Fuck me!’
Pants drop. String off. I sit. She straddles. Impales savage. Hips slam. Nails rake. Sweat mingles. Pulse thunders. Breasts bounce. Thrusts brutal. She shudders. Clenches. Orgasms rip. Mine explodes. Fills her. Collapse. Gasps sync. Skin fever-hot.
She flees inside. Shame burns. Dress hasty. Scribble: Sorry. Thanks. Drive off. Heart pounds guilt.
Next day. Note: Warehouse, 6pm. B. Rush there. Her car. Dark inside. ‘Eric, run! Paul’s mad.’ Gun glints. Paul: ‘Don’t move.’ She’s at his feet, sobbing. ‘Thought you were abroad.’ ‘Caught your note. Her confession.’ ‘Sorry, man.’ ‘Run. Die playing.’ I turn. Walk into doom. Pulse wild. Heat lingers on skin.