Hosting the Pool Party – PART 3
…and then…
The lounger’s fucked. Completely soaked through. There’s this big dark wet spot under your ass like someone knocked over a bottle of cream liqueur, and it just keeps spreading. Your thighs are shiny from hip to knee, streaked with everything we’ve left in and on you, thick slow-moving trails that catch the last of the sun and look almost pretty if you ignore how filthy they are. Every time you breathe out a little shiver runs through you and another lazy drop slips out, slides down between your cheeks, adds to the mess on the cushion. Your pussy’s still open, lips fat and dark, clit standing proud and pulsing like it’s got its own heartbeat, and every few seconds the entrance gives this tiny wink and pushes out one more creamy bead that hangs there a second before it falls.
You’re sprawled between us looking like pure sin, skin flushed everywhere, hair a wreck, that lazy dirty little smile on lips that are red and swollen from sucking and kissing. Mr B leans in and kisses the back of your neck real slow, open-mouthed, while I push the sticky strands off your forehead and press my lips there. Your hand’s just drifting back and forth between us, fingers loosely curled around both our cocks, not really jerking, just kind of petting them, keeping us interested, keeping that low throb going.
Then we hear it, laughter from the shallow end, low and dirty, followed by a sharp female gasp and the unmistakable wet smack of skin hitting skin hard and fast. All three of us turn our heads at the same time.
Over by the pool there’s four people tangled up on a mess of pool noodles floating in the shallow water. Two women, two guys, all slick with chlorine and sunscreen, bodies sliding over each other like they’ve got nowhere else to be. The woman in the middle’s up on her knees, head tipped way back, mouth open in this nonstop moan while the guy behind her drives in deep and steady, hands clamped on her hips hard enough you can already see the fingerprints forming. The other woman’s straddling her face, rolling her hips in slow lazy circles, fingers knotted in wet hair, while the second guy’s kneeling right in front feeding his cock into her mouth. They’re not rushing. It’s all deliberate, shameless, every thrust and lick pulling out fresh noises that drift right across the water to us.
You watch them with those heavy eyes, breath still ragged. Your fingers tighten around us. “Look at her,” you say, voice all rough and thick. “Taking everything… fuck, that’s what I want.”
Mr B laughs low right against your ear. “Greedy as hell, aren’t you.”
I slide my hand down your stomach, cover your mound, middle finger dipping just inside where it’s still scorching hot and overflowing. You hiss, hips twitch up. “You’re nowhere near finished,” I mutter. “And neither are we.”
You turn your head, kiss me slow and nasty, tongue sliding against mine, still tasting all of us, then reach back and pull Mr B in tighter. “Then keep going,” you whisper. “I wanna come again while I watch them. And I want both of you to fill me up one more time.”
That’s all it takes.
Mr B moves first, rolls you onto your stomach so your tits press into the cushion, ass tipped up just right. The angle spreads you open perfectly, cheeks parted, pussy still leaking, dark and swollen and begging. He kneels behind you, cock already thickening again as he rubs the head through the mess, getting himself slick. Then he pushes in, slow, deliberate, sinking back into that wet heat with this long, satisfied groan.
You moan straight into the cushion, fingers clawing at the fabric. I shift around to the front, kneel so my cock’s right at your mouth. You don’t even pause, lips part, tongue flicks out to taste what’s left from before, then you take me all the way in one smooth glide. The vibration of your moan shoots right through me.
Mr B starts this slow, heavy rhythm, long pulls out, then deep grinding thrusts that make your ass bounce and force fresh trickles of cum out around his shaft every time he bottoms out. I match him from the front: easy rolls of my hips, letting you suck at whatever speed you want while my hand slips underneath to find your clit, rubbing tight, steady circles that lock in with his thrusts.
Your eyes never leave the pool noodles. The woman over there’s coming now, whole body shaking, cries muffled around the dick in her mouth while the guy behind her slams harder, chasing his finish. Watching it flips a switch in you. Your hips start pushing back to meet Mr B, these desperate little rocks that fill the air with wet, filthy sounds.
“Harder,” you gasp, pulling off my cock just long enough to get the word out before you swallow me again.
He gives it to you, pace picks up, hips snapping forward, balls slapping against you loud enough to hear over the music. The lounger groans under it all. My fingers press harder on your clit, rubbing faster, feeling how fucking sensitive you still are.
You start shaking, full-body tremors, moans muffled around me, walls fluttering like crazy around him. He growls, thrusts getting sloppy. “Fuck, she’s right there again.”
I lean down close to your ear, voice rough. “Come for us, baby. Let them hear you all the way across the pool.”
That’s it.
You break, harder than the last time, body locking up tight, pussy clamping down on Mr B so hard he curses under his breath, milking him like you’re trying to drain him dry. The scream rips out of you, half-muffled by my cock but still loud enough heads turn. Your whole frame jerks, hips bucking wild, another rush of wetness soaking him and running down your thighs.
Mr B loses it, buries himself balls-deep and comes with this low, guttural sound, flooding you again, hot spurts that overflow right away, dripping out thick and white. Feeling him go sets me off, I pull out of your mouth at the last second, stroke fast, and come all over your back and ass in long warm ropes while you’re still shaking through it.
We end up in a sweaty pile, Mr B still half-buried inside you, me half-draped over your back, all of us breathing like we just sprinted a mile.
Over at the pool they’ve slowed down, noticed us, a couple low whistles and murmurs floating over. The woman on the noodles lifts her head, locks eyes with you, gives this slow, dirty smile, then goes right back to what she was doing.
You turn your face toward me, lips grazing my jaw, voice wrecked and soft.
“Water… another margarita… or do we wave them over here for round four?”
Mr B laughs quietly, still inside you. I kiss the corner of your mouth.
Sun’s dropping lower, shadows getting long across the grass.
Party’s just warming up.
😈
