Fantasies with AI

They found a rhythm, a vicious, synchronized fucking that used her body like a toy. In-out. In-out. Glrk-squelch-smack. The sounds were a filthy symphony. Spit and lube dripped from her ass, mixing with the juices leaking from her well-used pussy. The man in her mouth was grunting, his balls slapping her chin. “Gonna paint your fucking face, you whore.”

The man in her cunt was shuddering, his pace frantic. “Fuck, her cunt’s milking me, fucking squeezing my dick! I’m gonna pump this married pussy full!”

The man in her ass was relentless, his thrusts deep and punishing, each one punching a guttural unnngh from her chest. “Take it, you anal slut. Take every fucking inch.”

Elena’s mind shattered. The pain in her ass melted into a searing, deviant pleasure, the constant fullness triggering a helpless, rolling orgasm that ripped through her. Her cunt clenched and fluttered around the cock buried there. Splurt. Her body convulsed, a wild, uncontrolled shaking that had the men groaning in approval.

“She’s cumming! Fuck yeah, the bitch is cumming on my dick!”

The sensation tipped the man in her cunt over the edge. With a roar, he slammed into her and held deep. Pump. Pump. Splotch. I could see his cock pulsing inside her, another load of hot cum flooding her depths. He pulled out, his semen immediately oozing from her stretched, gaping hole.

The man in her mouth was next. He fucked her face twice more, hard and deep, before burying himself to the root. Splurt-gurgle-splurt. Ropes of thick cum shot down her constricted throat. She swallowed frantically, desperately, but it was too much. Gak. Some of it bubbled out of her nose and spilled over her lips, a mess of white on her flushed skin.

Only the man in her ass continued, his pace never faltering, driving into her through the aftershocks of her orgasm and the mess the others had made. He watched the cum drip from her used pussy with a dark hunger. “Your turn’s over. My show now.”

He pulled out of her ass with a wet schlopp, leaving her hole gaping and throbbing. He flipped her onto her back on the couch in one swift motion. Her eyes were glazed, her body limp and glistening with sweat and sex. He shoved her legs up and apart, exposing her completely—her cum-filled pussy, her reddened, wet asshole, her cum-stained face.

He spat on his hand, slicked his cock, which was still shiny from her ass, and aimed it at her cunt. “Gonna fuck this creamy pussy now. Gonna feel all that cum inside you.”

He drove into her, the sound a wet, sloppy splurch as he displaced the pool of seed inside her. He set a brutal, possessive rhythm, his eyes locked on hers. “You love this, don’t you, Elena? You love being our filthy, used up gangbang whore.”

Elena’s head lolled to the side, her eyes finding mine in the shadows. Her lips, swollen and bruised, curved into the faintest, most shattered smile. And she whispered, her voice hoarse and broken, but clear, “Yes.”
 
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The room fell into a sudden, heavy silence, broken only by the ragged sound of Elena’s breathing and the soft drip… drip… of cum onto the leather couch from her thoroughly used holes. She was a masterpiece of debauchery, her pale skin gleaming under the lights, painted white with layer upon layer of their release. It coated her full tits, streaked her stomach, matted her pubic hair, and plastered strands of her hair to her cheeks and forehead. A thick glob oozed from the corner of her slack mouth.

God, look at her.

From my shadowed corner, my own cock was a rigid, aching betrayal in my pants. I couldn’t look away. The man who had finished last, the one who had claimed her cum-filled pussy, patted her thigh with a possessive smack. “Good girl,” he grunted, his voice rough with satisfaction. He stood, his cock, still semi-hard and slick, swinging heavily between his legs as he retreated.

The man from the restaurant, the facilitator, stepped into the center of the room, clapping his hands together softly. “Alright, gentlemen. An excellent performance. You know the drill. Clean-up and then the shoot.” He snapped his fingers, and a young man scurried forward with a towel. He didn’t hand it to Elena. Instead, he began to briskly, impersonally wipe the worst of the mess from her face and torso, clearing the canvas for the next act. The towel came away soaked and white. Elena flinched at the first cold, rough contact, but then lay still, her eyes half-lidded and vacant, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

The cleaner moved down her body, swiping over her swollen nipples, making her gasp, then over the sticky mess on her belly. He paused at the junction of her thighs. With two efficient wipes, he cleared the pooling cum from her mound, but he left her cunt and asshole glistening and wet, a lewd shine highlighting her gaping, well-fucked openings. Fuck, they want that documented.

The facilitator gestured. “Let’s begin. Marcus, you’re first.”

A large man with a thick beard, the one who had first taken her mouth, stepped forward. He was already hard again, his cock jutting out, eager. He didn’t bother with a greeting. He grabbed Elena’s chin, tilting her face up. Her eyes focused on him, a flicker of weary recognition in their depths. “Open,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble.

Elena’s lips, bruised and puffy, parted obediently. He didn’t feed his cock to her slowly. He just shoved the head past her lips, the schlick sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. He held it there, not thrusting, just letting his thickness stretch her mouth for the camera a man now held, its lens a dark, unblinking eye. The flash popped, once, twice, freezing the image of her submissive, cock-stuffed face. Click. Whirr. He pulled out with a wet pop, a string of saliva and pre-cum connecting his tip to her lip.

“Good. Now, get her tits,” the facilitator directed.

Marcus gripped her breasts, squeezing them together around his shaft. Her pale flesh bulged around the ruddy skin of his dick. He pumped slowly, his motion a lazy, possessive slide. Squelsh. Squelsh. The sound of his cock moving between her cum-slicked tits was filthy. Elena’s eyes closed, a soft, pathetic whimper escaping her. The camera flashed, capturing the humiliation, the sheer lewdness of her body being used as a tit-fuck toy. Click. Whirr. He pulled away, leaving a fresh, glistening streak across her chest.

“Next. James, the cunt.”

Another man moved in, the one who had taken her ass. He knelt between her splayed legs, his hands spreading her wider, exposing her pink, swollen lips, puffy and stretched, a trickle of white still seeping from inside her. He rubbed the head of his cock through her wetness, gathering the mixed fluids. Squish. The camera zoomed in, the flash illuminating her most intimate part, violated and on display. He pushed just the tip inside, a shallow, claiming intrusion. Squelch. The camera captured it—the penetration, the wetness, the complete surrender of her body. Click. Whirr.
 
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“Alright. The finale. The ass.”

James repositioned himself, moving lower. He pressed his thumb against her other hole, the one he had brutally conquered. It was still open, a dark, puckered ring, glistening with lube and traces of his own passage. He pressed the head of his cock against it. Elena tensed, a full-body shudder wracking her frame. “No… please…” she whispered, her voice a ragged thread of sound.

It was the first real protest she’d uttered, and it sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my dick.

“Just for the picture, sweetheart,” James cooed, his voice dripping with false sympathy. He didn’t push in. He just held the pose, the broad crown of his dick distending her sensitive rim for the blinding CLICK-CLICK-CLICK of the camera, permanently documenting the shame of her stretched, vulnerable asshole.

The facilitator nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect. That’s a wrap. Everyone, get dressed.”

The men began to disperse, a few patting my shoulder as they passed my post in the shadows, a gesture of crude camaraderie. I didn’t acknowledge them. My eyes were locked on my wife. She slowly pushed herself up on trembling arms, her body a map of their pleasure. She looked… wrecked. And utterly, profoundly beautiful. Her gaze found mine across the room, and in it, I saw no regret, only a deep, dazed exhaustion and a spark of something else, something that looked like triumph.

The facilitator approached me, holding a thick envelope. “As agreed. The video and photo copies will be mailed. Now get your wife and get out.”

I took the envelope, the weight of it meaningless now, and walked toward the couch. The smell of sex and sweat and cum was overwhelming. I reached out a hand to her. She looked at it, then back at my face.

Her hand, when she placed it in mine, was cold and sticky.
 
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The facilitator gives Elena a final, impersonal pat on her slick ass. Schlap. “She’s all yours. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He turns and walks away, leaving us alone in the foyer. The heavy door to the main room clicks shut, sealing away the sound and the stink of the orgy.

Elena stands before me, utterly nude. Her little black dress, her lace bra, her tiny thong—all of it is gone, left behind in that room as trophies for those fucking animals. Her body is a canvas of their debauchery. Dried, pearlescent streaks paint her stomach and thighs. Fresh, glistening pools of cum still ooze from her used-up cunt, a thick trickle making a slow, sticky path down her inner thigh. Plip. It hits the polished concrete floor. Her nipples are hard, pebbled, and smeared with spit. Her eyes are glazed, staring at nothing, but a faint, shattered smile plays on her swollen, bruised lips.

Fuck. Fuck. My cock is a steel rod straining against my zipper. I can’t stop looking at her. I can’t believe she’s mine.

I yank my t-shirt over my head, the cotton stretching. I step close to her, the scent of sex and sweat and a dozen strangers hitting me like a ....... I drape the shirt over her shoulders, a pathetic attempt to cover her. It’s immediately useless. The soft grey fabric soaks through instantly where it touches the sticky mess on her chest and back, turning translucent and clinging to her skin, outlining the curve of her tits, the patches of drying cum. Squick. The sound of the wet fabric against her skin is so fucking lewd.

“Come on, baby,” I murmur, my voice husky. My arm slips around her waist. Her skin is cool and tacky. I guide her toward the exit, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Outside, the humid night air is a shock. A black sedan idles at the curb, exactly as promised. The driver doesn’t even blink as I open the door and help my naked, t-shirt-covered wife into the back seat. He just gives a curt nod, his eyes fixed forward. Professional discretion. I slide in beside her.

The car pulls away from the curb. The interior is silent except for the hum of the engine and the wet, sticky sound of Elena’s thighs unsticking as she shifts on the leather seat. Schluck. The streetlights flash through the window, illuminating her in strobes. Each flash shows me a new detail: the bite mark on her neck, the red imprint of a hand on her hip, the way my damp t-shirt clings to the perfect shape of her full, cum-smeared breasts.

My hand finds her knee. I slide it slowly up her thigh, beneath the hem of the t-shirt. Her skin is so soft. My fingers push higher, through the wetness, through the evidence of all those other men, until my fingertips brush the swollen, slick lips of her pussy. She’s so hot there. A furnace. She gasps, a sharp intake of breath, and her legs fall open for me. Yes.

I lean in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. I can smell the lingering scent of cock on her skin. “You feel that, Elena?” I whisper, my voice a low growl. “That’s all their fucking cum leaking out of you. My wife’s fucking cunt is dripping with a dozen loads.” I push two fingers into her, and the sensation is incredible. Squelsh. She’s so loose, so well-fucked, my fingers slide in with no resistance, buried to the knuckles in her hot, creamy depths. I can feel the thick, liquid warmth of them inside her. I curl my fingers, and a fresh gush of their combined release spills out around my hand. Splurt.

“Oh god,” she moans, her head falling back against the seat, her back arching.

“Did you like it?” I ask, my mouth moving to her neck, licking a salty streak of sweat. “Did you like being their gangbang whore? Taking all those cocks in your pretty little mouth? In your tight ass?”

“Yes,” she breathes, the word a shaky exhalation. “So many… they just kept coming… fuck…”
 
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I work my fingers in and out of her sloppy cunt. Squelch. Glorp. The sounds are filthy, obscene, and I’m so hard it hurts. “Tell me,” I command, my voice rough with need. “Tell me what you liked most.”

“My ass,” she whimpers, her hips starting to grind against my hand. “The one… the one who fucked my ass… it hurt… but then… fuck… I came so hard.”

I growl, twisting my fingers inside her, making her cry out. “You’re my wife,” I snarl, my possessiveness a sharp, burning knot in my chest. “And your ass is mine. But you gave it to a fucking stranger. You let him stretch your shithole open while I watched.” I pull my dripping fingers from her cunt and bring them to her mouth. “Taste it. Taste all of them.”

She opens her mouth without hesitation, her tongue darting out to lick my fingers clean. Slurp. Glllk. Her eyes lock on mine as she sucks the mixture of cum and her own juices from my skin. The depravity of it, the absolute surrender, makes my vision blur.

The car slows to a halt. We’re at the hotel. I throw a wad of cash at the driver—far more than the fare—and half-drag, half-carry Elena out of the car and through the deserted lobby. We get into the elevator. I slam my hand against the button for our floor and then push her against the mirrored wall. The cold glass makes her gasp. I crush my mouth to hers, tasting the lingering bitterness of strangers on her tongue. My hands grab her ass, squeezing the cool, firm flesh, pulling her against my aching cock. I grind against her through my jeans. Fuck, I can’t wait.

I fumble with the keycard, my hands shaking. The door to our room finally swings open and I pull her inside, kicking it shut behind us. The plush, clean room is a stark contrast to the filth we’re covered in.

I don’t make it to the bed. I spin her around, bending her over the foot of the mattress. Her perfect, pale ass is right there, on display. The t-shirt is rucked up around her waist. I can see everything—her puffy, gaping cunt, the dark, used hole of her ass still glistening. I unbuckle my belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a hiss. My zipper goes down. Zzzip. I shove my jeans and boxers down to my thighs. My cock springs free, rock-hard and throbbing.

I spit into my palm, a thick ptoo, and slick my shaft. I don’t aim for her cunt. I press the head of my dick against her other hole, the one she said she liked so much. She tenses for a second. “Please,” she moans into the bedspread, “fuck me there, baby. Claim it. It’s yours.”

That’s all I need. I push. The resistance is minimal, she’s so well-prepped, so stretched open from before. My cockhead pops past the tight ring of muscle. Pop. She cries out, a sharp, beautiful sound. I sink into her ass in one long, relentless thrust, burying myself to the hilt in the incredible, clutching heat of her. Squiiiish.

“FUCK!” I roar, my hands gripping her hips, holding her still as my balls slap against her wet, creamy cunt. “This is my ass, Elena. Mine. You feel me in there? You feel me stretching this filthy, used-up hole?”

“Yes! God, yes! So deep!” Her voice is muffled by the mattress.

I pull back and slam into her again. Smack. Squelch. The sound is unreal. I set a brutal, punishing pace, fucking her ass with everything I have, my own release coiling tight in my gut. Each thrust makes her jolt forward, a fresh trickle of their cum seeping from her pussy onto my thighs. Splotch. I can feel the heat, the aftermath of the gangbang, the sheer nastiness of what we’ve done, and it’s the biggest fucking turn-on of my life.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” I grunt, my rhythm starting to falter, becoming frantic, jerky. “Gonna pump my fucking load right into this dirty ass. Mark you as mine again.”

“Do it,” she screams, her body clenching around me, milking my cock. “Cum in my ass! I want it! I want your fucking cum!”

My orgasm erupts, a violent, blinding wave. I drive into her as deep as I can go and hold there, my hips shuddering. Splurt. Pump. Gush. I empty myself inside her, my cum joining the lingering slickness from the other man, flooding her depths. The pulses seem to go on forever. I collapse over her back, spent, my cock still twitching inside her well-fucked ass.
 
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Outrageous_I said:
The facilitator gives Elena a final, impersonal pat on her slick ass. Schlap. “She’s all yours. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He turns and walks away, leaving us alone in the foyer. The heavy door to the main room clicks shut, sealing away the sound and the stink of the orgy.

Elena stands before me, utterly nude. Her little black dress, her lace bra, her tiny thong—all of it is gone, left behind in that room as trophies for those fucking animals. Her body is a canvas of their debauchery. Dried, pearlescent streaks paint her stomach and thighs. Fresh, glistening pools of cum still ooze from her used-up cunt, a thick trickle making a slow, sticky path down her inner thigh. Plip. It hits the polished concrete floor. Her nipples are hard, pebbled, and smeared with spit. Her eyes are glazed, staring at nothing, but a faint, shattered smile plays on her swollen, bruised lips.

Fuck. Fuck. My cock is a steel rod straining against my zipper. I can’t stop looking at her. I can’t believe she’s mine.

I yank my t-shirt over my head, the cotton stretching. I step close to her, the scent of sex and sweat and a dozen strangers hitting me like a ....... I drape the shirt over her shoulders, a pathetic attempt to cover her. It’s immediately useless. The soft grey fabric soaks through instantly where it touches the sticky mess on her chest and back, turning translucent and clinging to her skin, outlining the curve of her tits, the patches of drying cum. Squick. The sound of the wet fabric against her skin is so fucking lewd.

“Come on, baby,” I murmur, my voice husky. My arm slips around her waist. Her skin is cool and tacky. I guide her toward the exit, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Outside, the humid night air is a shock. A black sedan idles at the curb, exactly as promised. The driver doesn’t even blink as I open the door and help my naked, t-shirt-covered wife into the back seat. He just gives a curt nod, his eyes fixed forward. Professional discretion. I slide in beside her.

The car pulls away from the curb. The interior is silent except for the hum of the engine and the wet, sticky sound of Elena’s thighs unsticking as she shifts on the leather seat. Schluck. The streetlights flash through the window, illuminating her in strobes. Each flash shows me a new detail: the bite mark on her neck, the red imprint of a hand on her hip, the way my damp t-shirt clings to the perfect shape of her full, cum-smeared breasts.

My hand finds her knee. I slide it slowly up her thigh, beneath the hem of the t-shirt. Her skin is so soft. My fingers push higher, through the wetness, through the evidence of all those other men, until my fingertips brush the swollen, slick lips of her pussy. She’s so hot there. A furnace. She gasps, a sharp intake of breath, and her legs fall open for me. Yes.

I lean in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. I can smell the lingering scent of cock on her skin. “You feel that, Elena?” I whisper, my voice a low growl. “That’s all their fucking cum leaking out of you. My wife’s fucking cunt is dripping with a dozen loads.” I push two fingers into her, and the sensation is incredible. Squelsh. She’s so loose, so well-fucked, my fingers slide in with no resistance, buried to the knuckles in her hot, creamy depths. I can feel the thick, liquid warmth of them inside her. I curl my fingers, and a fresh gush of their combined release spills out around my hand. Splurt.

“Oh god,” she moans, her head falling back against the seat, her back arching.

“Did you like it?” I ask, my mouth moving to her neck, licking a salty streak of sweat. “Did you like being their gangbang whore? Taking all those cocks in your pretty little mouth? In your tight ass?”

“Yes,” she breathes, the word a shaky exhalation. “So many… they just kept coming… fuck…”
Click to expand...
a girl can only relate to the feelings if shes ..had it!! I can relate🙂 Crissy
 
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The shower spray hissed, a constant, steaming backdrop to the wet slap of skin on skin. I adjusted the focus on my camera, the lens fogging for a second before clearing. My wife, Elena, was braced against the slick tile wall, her perfect ass arched back toward Marcus, who held her hips in a firm, possessive grip. His cock, thick and veiny, pistoned into her from behind. Each thrust sent a jolt through her body, a visible shock that made her tits sway and her mouth fall open in a silent, blissful gasp.

Squelch. Slap. Squelch.

The sound was obscene, a wet, rhythmic music that made my own dick harder than the tiles. Water streamed down the cleft of her ass, mixing with the slickness his fucking was pulling from her cunt. I could see it, that glistening, pink flesh stretching around his girth with every inward drive. God, the way she takes him. My finger clicked the shutter. Click. Whirr.

“Fuck, Elena,” Marcus grunted, his voice a low rumble under the water’s roar. His hands, big and rough, kneaded the soft flesh of her hips, pulling her onto him harder, deeper. “Your cunt is so goddamn tight around my dick. Feels like you’re trying to milk my fucking nuts dry.”

Elena’s answer was a choked moan, her head rolling back. “Don’t stop… please… fuck me harder. I wanna feel it tomorrow.”

Glrk. Squelch.

He obliged, his pace turning brutal, animalistic. The sound changed, became wetter, messier. I zoomed in, capturing the precise moment his balls slapped against her clit with every powerful thrust. Her fingers, splayed white against the wall, slipped. Marcus hooked an arm around her waist, holding her up, driving into her with a new, devastating intensity.

“You like that, you filthy slut?” he growled into her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “You like your husband watching me ruin your perfect married pussy?”

“Yes!” she cried out, the word breaking into a scream as he hit a spot that made her legs tremble. “He needs to see… needs to see how a real cock fills me up!”

Click. Click. Click. My own hand was a blur, jerking my aching cock in time with Marcus’s thrusts. The pre-cum leaked, mixing with the water dripping from my wrist. The steam, the heat, the smell of her arousal and his sweat—it was suffocating, intoxicating.

Suddenly, Marcus pulled out with a wet, sucking pop. Elena whimpered at the loss, her body trembling with need. He spun her around, water plastering her dark hair to her face and chest. Her nipples were hard, little pebbles begging for attention. He didn’t make her wait. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tilted her head back, guiding his slick, glistening cock toward her mouth.
 

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“Open up, baby. Clean your mess off my dick.”

Her lips parted obediently, and he fed his length into her hungry mouth. Gulp. Slurp. The sounds were even filthier than before. I watched, mesmerized, as her throat worked around him, her cheeks hollowing. She gagged slightly, a choked mmmpfh sound that only seemed to spur him on. Strings of saliva and water dripped from her chin onto her tits.

“That’s it,” he moaned, fucking her face with short, sharp jerks of his hips. “Take it all, you beautiful fucking cocksucker. God, the way your throat grips me…”

I moved closer, the camera forgotten in my hand, now just a spectator. I needed to see this. Needed to see the tears welling in the corners of her eyes, the absolute sub on her face as she took every inch of him. My own strokes became frantic, desperate.

He pulled back, his cock slipping from her lips with a final, wet slrk. He was breathing hard, his eyes black with lust. “Turn around. I want that ass now. I’m gonna fuck that tight little hole while your husband watches me stretch you open.”

A shiver of pure anticipation wracked Elena’s body. She turned, bracing herself again, but this time she reached back with one hand to spread herself open for him. I could see everything—her swollen, well-fucked pussy, and just above it, that tiny, puckered asshole he was about to claim.

He spat into his hand, working the saliva over his cock and her rear entrance. He didn’t ask. He just pressed the fat, dripping head against her.

“Breathe out, Elena,” I heard myself say, my voice rough.

She exhaled, and he pushed.

Hnnngh. Her whole body went rigid. A sharp, pained cry was torn from her throat, but it melted almost instantly into a deep, guttural moan of pleasure. He sank into her ass inch by brutal inch, the stretch undeniable, a breathtaking violation that she was clearly craving.

“Fuuuuck, Marcus,” she sobbed, pushing back against him. “Your cock… it’s so big in my ass… it burns…”

“You love it,” he grunted, bottoming out inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He held there, letting her adjust, letting me see the incredible sight of my wife’s ass stretched around another man’s dick. Water cascaded over their joined bodies, highlighting the tension in his back, the complete surrender in her posture.

Then he began to move. It was a slower, more intense rhythm. A claiming. Each thrust was a statement. Splortch. Thump.

“Look at him, Elena,” Marcus commanded, his eyes locking with mine over her shoulder. “Look at your husband while I fuck this ass. See how hard he is for you? See how much he loves watching you get used?”

Elena’s glassy, pleasure-...... eyes found mine. Her mouth was slack, her expression one of utter euphoria. She was gone, lost in a world of sensation, and I was the privileged witness.

“Come for me, you fucking goddamn whore,” Marcus snarled, his pace becoming punishing, erratic. “Come all over my cock.”

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train. Her back arched violently, a raw, screaming wail ripped from her throat that echoed off the tiles, louder than the shower. Her inner muscles clenched around him, milking his dick deep inside her ass. The sight, the sound, the sheer carnality of it was too much.

With a ragged groan, my own orgasm erupted. Thick streams of cum shot from my dick, splurt splurt splurt, mixing with the shower water at my feet, my entire body shuddering with the forse of it.

Marcus wasn’t far behind. With a final, ground-out groan, he buried himself to the hilt in her ass and emptied himself. I could see the pulses of his release along the length of his shaft, filling her up. He collapsed against her back, both of them breathing in ragged, spent gulps of steam-filled air.

The water continued to beat down. He slowly, carefully pulled out of her well-used asshole with a soft, wet, gush of sound. Elena slumped against the wall, completely spent, a satisfied smile on her face.

Marcus turned his head, looking right at me, a challenge and an invitation in his eyes. “Get in here. Your turn.”
 

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