The boyfriend had recovered somewhat, and he leaned over to kiss her. She took his hand and put it between her legs, guiding it. Her thighs squeezed him in tighter. She came again and again, each time adding to the pool of fluid on the floor beneath her. Her legs jerked, and she squirmed in the puddle of her own juices. The boyfriend went down on her again, and her next orgasm left her limp and shaking, spread-eagle on the floor, so covered it sweat and fluids that it looked like she had just come out of the shower. The boyfriend wasn’t much better off; he’d been exerting himself even more than she had, and he was dripping with perspiration. A string of thick cum still hung from the tip of his penis, refusing to fall.
Even after everything, seeing her like that, glistening and quivering, he couldn’t help himself. It must have hurt, but he was getting hard again. He climbed on top of her and pushed in. She didn’t have the strength to clutch him the way she liked to, she could only lie there, but her moans of pleasure told the whole story. Her noises of encouragement spurred him on, and he kept thrusting. She couldn’t move, and he couldn’t do anything more than what he was, so they just stared at each other until he came inside, and collapsed on her chest.
They lay there in a sweaty pile for nearly half an hour. They probably dozed off, and so did I, because I awoke when they left the storage room. They had thoughtfully cleaned up the mess. So their relationship had gotten to this point after only a week and a half? The boy’s stamina impressed me even more than the redhead’s ridiculous appetite. I wondered what they’d be up to next week.
Naptime was over. I had an impromptu pool party to be at.
Next: The impromptu pool party