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The kitchen counter was a mess. Layla's back was printed in cum and sweat where she'd been lying on it, and Kylie's stool had a puddle underneath it that dripped onto the tile with a steady plip-plip

The kitchen counter was covered in flour. Kylie had been trying to bake—her pregnant cravings apparently now included bread at midnight—but the moment I walked in with Bobby and Rick, the flour became

I’m on my back on that soaked fucking couch, the cushions squelching under us from the last three rounds, and you, Layla, are already on your knees between my legs, your mouth full of Bobby’s uncut di

"That," she says, breathless, "is the most disgusting, incredible thing I've ever felt." She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to. Her cunt is still clenching around me, squeezing out the

The afternoon light caught the edge of the coffee table, a stack of magazines, a half-empty glass of water. Layla knelt on the shag rug, the fibers pressing into her knees, her mouth already stretched

The air in the room is thick with the smell of salt and skin, a humid blanket that clings to everything. I’m on my back on that old shag rug, the one from last time, its fibers tickling my shoulders a

I’m lying on my back on this ridiculous shag rug that Bobby dragged home from a flea market, the orange fibers tickling my shoulder blades, and all I can think about is how fucking full everything is.

The afternoon sun blasted through the grimy windows of the abandoned pool house, turning the air thick and humid. Someone had dragged a bunch of old mattresses into a rough circle on the cracked concr

The sliding glass door to the back patio was already fogged over with steam from the hot tub, and I could hear the water churning before I even stepped outside. Bobby was already in, his dark shoulder

The sliding glass door to the backyard was fogged with condensation, a hazy filter for the late afternoon sun that caught the droplets and turned them into tiny prisms. Inside, the air was thick and w

The school parking lot was nearly empty by the time I pulled in, three-fifteen on a Tuesday and the rain just starting to spit against my windshield. I cut the engine and checked my phone again. Nothi

I pull up to the school in my usual spot, engine idling, scanning the crowd of kids for my daughter’s face. But she’s not there. Instead, I see you, Layla, walking toward my car with this look on your

The school pickup lane was a circus of minivans and frazzled parents, but Peter’s old sedan sat idling near the back, its engine humming a low, impatient note. He checked his phone again. No text from

Peter’s cock is a filthy, throbbing monument, a thick uncut slab I’d choke on forever. It’s hot as a brand, veins bulging like twisted ropes, and that foreskin—fuck, it’s a slick, greedy sleeve I can’

The old clawfoot tub in the upstairs bathroom of the farmhouse had seen some things, but nothing quite like this afternoon. The window was propped open with a worn paperback, and the smell of cut gras

You’ve got me pinned on my back on the living room floor, my stubby legs kicked wide, my pregnant belly a tight, pale globe between us. I’m so tiny and soaked beneath you, Peter, and your huge body sw

The ambulance siren isn’t even on. We’re parked in the underground bay of St. Mercy’s, the concrete walls sweating from the summer humidity, and I’m on the stretcher with my paramedic shirt unbuttoned

The Greyhound’s engine droned like a giant, sleepy bee, vibrating through the worn upholstery of the back row. Outside, the scrubby landscape of some midwestern nowhere scrolled past, a blur of dry gr

The Greyhound’s engine hummed a low, rattling tune as it ate up the dark highway. Outside the windows, the world was nothing but black smudges of trees and the occasional flare of a passing headlight.

The overnight bus from Montreal swayed gently through the dark highway, most passengers lost to sleep or their phones. Carole had curled up against the window almost immediately after boarding, her sm

The bus from Montreal was supposed to be a straight shot, six hours of nothing but highway and bad coffee from the rest stops. I'd been awake for maybe the first forty minutes, watching the city light

The first thing I noticed when you walked through the door was how hard your dick was. I could see it through your jeans, that thick outline pressing against the denim like it was trying to escape. I

The apartment smelled like sweat and cheap cologne, the kind that clings to your skin after a long night of popping pills and jacking off in front of webcams for tips. I was sprawled on the couch, leg

The bus hummed along the highway, its tires a steady rhythm against the pavement. Outside, the world was dark, the kind of dark that made the glow of the overhead lights inside feel too bright, too ex

Carole waddled into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the linoleum, her pregnant belly leading the way like a swollen beacon of lust. She'd just gotten out of the shower, her blonde hair sti

The air in the room was thick with the scent of sweat and something sweeter—milk, musk, the sharp tang of cum. My belly pressed against the mattress as I knelt on all fours, my swollen tits swaying be

The air in the room was thick with the musk of sweat and sex, the kind of scent that clung to skin and made every breath feel like a slow, deliberate tease. Bobby’s fingers were already wrapped around

The sheets were tangled around their legs, damp with sweat and the sticky proof of what they’d been doing for the last hour. Bobby’s fingers curled around Peter’s thick, uncut cock, his palm slick wit