Chapter 6: The Knock

I looked at the time. It was not yet time for Ethan to be back from the office.
 “Who could it be?” I whispered. My fingers were still inside me. The screen still showed my younger self taking a thick c**k deep. My nightgown was pushed up around my waist. My thighs were wet and sticky. The knock came again, louder this time. I pulled my hand free, wiped it on the robe I had left on the couch, and stood up fast. My legs felt shaky. I grabbed the towel from the chair, wrapped it loosely around my body, and walked down the hall. Each step made my thighs slide against each other. I could feel my own mess drying on my skin. The ache had not gone away. If anything, watching those old scenes had made it worse. I opened the front door. A young man stood there holding a package. Handsome. Maybe mid-twenties. Dark hair, strong arms under his short-sleeve shirt, and a polite smile that faded a little when he saw me in just the towel. “Package for the house,” he said, holding it out and reading the address name. “Oh, thanks. I almost forgot.” I took it. Our fingers touched for a second. That small contact sent a fresh wave of heat straight between my legs. The urge rose fast and sharp. I looked at him longer than I should have. My p***y clenched around nothing. I was still dripping from the fingers and the tapes. “Thanks,” I said. My voice came out lower than usual. “Hey… can you help me with something inside real quick? There’s this thing in the back room that needs moving and I can’t do it alone.” He hesitated. “I’m not really supposed to—” “It’ll only take a minute,” I cut in. “Please.” He nodded and stepped inside. I closed the door behind him and led the way down the hall. My towel slipped a little lower with every step. I did not fix it. The cool air touched my wet skin. We reached the bedroom. The sheets were still messed up from earlier. He stopped near the door and looked around. I turned to face him, then let the towel fall to the floor. His eyes dropped straight to my body. Naked. Wet thighs. Hard pointed n*****s. I watched his throat move as he swallowed. “f**k,” he said under his breath. I walked over, dropped to my knees right in front of him, and reached for his belt. He did not stop me. My fingers worked the buckle open, then the button and zipper. I pulled his pants and boxers down together. His c**k sprang out already half hard. Thick. Longer than my husband’s. I wrapped my hand around it and stroked once, feeling it grow stiffer in my grip. “You sure about this?” he asked, voice rough. “Yes,” I said. “Don’t talk. Just let me.” I leaned in and took him into my mouth. Warm. Salty. I sucked the head first, then pushed deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat. My tongue worked the underside while my hand stroked what I could not fit. He groaned and put a hand in my hair. I kept going for a few minutes, bobbing my head, making it wet and messy, spit running down to his balls. The taste and the weight of him on my tongue made my p***y throb harder. I pulled off with a soft pop and looked up at him. “Don’t hold back,” I said. “I need it hard.” I stood, turned around, and bent over the side of the bed. Hands flat on the mattress. Ass out. I reached back and spread myself open for him so he could see how wet I still was. “No mercy,” I told him over my shoulder. “f**k me faster than a moving train at high speed.” He stepped up behind me. The thick head of his c**k pressed against my entrance. One strong push and he sank all the way in. I gasped. The stretch burned in the best way. He filled me completely, deeper than anything I had felt in months. My walls clenched around him right away. This was what the toys could never give me. Real heat. Real weight. Real force. He started thrusting. Hard and fast. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. Each stroke drove me forward on the bed. I pushed back to meet him, wanting every inch. My t**s swayed under me. The wetness from earlier mixed with new arousal and dripped down my thighs. “Harder,” I moaned. “Don’t stop. You’re not as fast as I told you to be.” He grabbed my hips and slammed into me with more force and speed. The bed creaked. My moans got louder. I could feel another orgasm building already, stronger than the one from my fingers. He kept that same brutal pace, like he really would die if he slowed down. Sweat started on my back. His hands dug into my skin. I was lost in it, eyes half closed, mouth open, taking every deep stroke. For the first time in months my body felt full the way it used to on set. Then the door opened. I turned my head just in time to see my husband standing there. Frozen. Staring straight at me pinned against the edge of the bed with the delivery man’s c**k still buried deep inside me, still moving.