Darkness wraps the guest bedroom in Alain and Yolande’s house. My eyes snap open. Heart thuds hard. Moans seep through the wall. Low groans. Bed creaks rhythmically. Alain and Yolande. Fucking like animals in the dead of night. Heat floods my core. Pussy clenches. Nipples harden against the thin nightie. I strain to listen. Flesh slapping. Yolande’s gasps rise. My skin prickles. Pulse races. Thighs squeeze together. Wetness builds. Can’t stay still. Slip from sheets. Bare feet silent on floor. Door cracks open. Glowing slit under theirs. No doubt now. They’re pounding away.
Another sound. Crack from the hall. Heart hammers. Is it Michel? Drunk, wandering? Creep closer. Shadow kneels at their door. Peering through keyhole. Hand on shoulder. Firm muscle. He jolts upright. Silent pull into my room. Door shuts soft.
The Fever
‘Michel, what the fuck? Spying on friends?’
‘Not Michel. Clément.’
Shock hits. The kid. On his knees, cock probably hard, watching mom and dad screw. Rage mixes with twisted thrill. My hand lingers on his arm. Heat radiates. Young skin. Eyes wide in dark. ‘Please, Agnès. Don’t wake them. Thought dad was sick. Then… sounds got me.’ Lie. Bullshit. He’s hard. I smell it. Pheromones thick. ‘You’re perving on your parents. Sick.’ Voice low, husky. Body betrays me. Clit throbs. His breath quickens. Inches closer. ‘Never been with a girl. You here… drives me crazy. Just sleep beside you? Won’t touch. Promise.’
The Blaze
Temptation surges. Firm chest. Youthful hunger. Heart slams. Skin burns. Imagine his hands. Rough. Urgent. But no. Michel’s face flashes. ‘Get out. Now. Before I scream.’ He hesitates. Eyes devour my nightie. Nipples poke through. ‘You’re hot. Promise not to tell?’ ‘Swear you stop this shit.’ Deal struck. He bolts. Door clicks.
Fumble lock. Key blocks peephole. Safe. But fire rages. Moans next door louder. Yolande whimpers. Alain grunts. My pussy aches. Dripping. Thighs slick. Can’t fight. Back to bed. Nightie hikes up. Fingers dive. Wet folds part. Clit swollen. Circle hard. Fast. Breath hitches. Imagine Michel. His cock. Thick. From mountain house. Pounding me. But Clément’s plea echoes. Young cock straining. No. Focus. Two fingers plunge in. Tight. Soak sheets. Thumb grinds clit. Hips buck. Heat coils. Tighter. Moans escape. Bite lip. Their rhythm matches mine. Sloppy thrusts. My walls clench fingers. Sweat beads. Heart explodes. Build. Build. Edge.
Blaze erupts. Orgasm rips. Body arches. Pussy spasms. Juices flood hand. Gasp choked. Waves crash. Toes curl. Tremble. Peak holds. Endless. Collapse. Chest heaves. Skin fever-hot. Glows.
Sounds fade next door. Yolande cries out final. Silence. My hand wet. Pussy twitches aftershocks. Relief floods. But ache lingers. For Michel. Real cock. Danger. Tomorrow? Uncertainty. Eyes heavy. Drift off. Skin still burns. Marked by night. Unique. Raw. Mine.