Her First Squirting Orgasm

Jenna’s fingers dug into the leather cushion of the couch as Marcus drove into her from behind, each thrust a thick, relentless claim that shoved the air from her lungs in broken moans. Her marketing-executive composure was long gone; at thirty-four she was nothing but open, dripping need, her dark hair sticking to the sweat along her neck while her ass rolled back to meet every brutal stroke. Marcus’s hands—calloused from the gym, twenty-eight and strong—owned her hips, yanking her onto his cock like she weighed nothing. The stretch was obscene. He was so much thicker than Alex had ever been, so much longer, the fat head punching places inside her that made her vision spark.

“Look at your wife,” Marcus growled, not slowing for a second. He reached around and found Jenna’s swollen clit with two rough fingers, rubbing tight circles in time with his hips. “Look how her cunt’s swallowing me. Your pathetic little dick never filled her like this, did it, Alex?”

Alex knelt on the living-room carpet three feet away, naked, cock leaking a steady clear strand onto his thigh. Thirty-six years old and devoted past the point of pride, he watched with glassy eyes, lips parted, every nerve singing with the humiliation he craved. “No, sir,” he whispered. “Never.”

Jenna twisted her head just enough to catch her husband’s gaze. Her voice came out filthy and breathless between the wet slap of skin. “He’s right, baby. God—fuck—Marcus is stretching me open so good. Your little cock barely scrapes the entrance. This is what a real dick feels like. So full I can barely think.” She pushed back harder, greedy, her pussy making obscenely wet sounds around the thick shaft pistoning in and out. Cream coated Marcus’s length, white and slick, catching the lamplight every time he pulled almost free before slamming home again.

Marcus smirked and kept rubbing her clit, faster now. “Tell him how much better it is. Loud. I want him to hear every word while he kneels there leaking like a bitch.”