The Neighbors Pool

Mark adjusted the last box on the shelf and let out a satisfied grunt.

"That's it," he said, brushing his hands off on his jeans. "Officially moved in."

Emily poked her head around the kitchen door, smiling as she tucked a strand of her dark auburn hair behind her ear. "About time," she teased. "I was starting to think we'd be living out of boxes until Christmas."

Mark admired the flush on her cheeks, the way her T-shirt clung to her soft curves, the bounce in her step when she moved. At 28, Emily was still effortlessly sexy, even if she rarely saw herself that way. Full-figured, with 38D breasts and wide hips, she sometimes fussed over her body in front of the mirror, calling herself "curvy" in a slightly self-deprecating tone. But Mark loved every inch of her.

Their new home was a quiet suburban house with a large backyard, complete with a small patio. But it was the house next door that had drawn Emily's eye earlier that morning.

"Did you see the neighbor?" she'd asked over coffee, peeking through the kitchen window like a teenager spying on the cool kids next door.

Mark had looked over her shoulder. Their neighbor's house was sleek and modern, with a neatly trimmed hedge, a gleaming white patio, and a shimmering blue pool. Next to it stood Chris -- tall, tanned, maybe early forties -- shirtless, with a towel slung over one shoulder, pulling leaves out of the water with a net.

Emily had bit her lip thoughtfully, making Mark raise an eyebrow.

"Already spying on the neighbors, huh?" he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

"Just curious," she'd murmured, her voice light, but her eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary.

The next afternoon, while Mark was unpacking tools in the garage, Emily wandered into the backyard in a sundress and sandals, humming to herself. She had always been the social one, more outgoing than Mark, and eager to meet new people. Mark heard voices over the fence, light laughter, and Chris's deep, confident voice rolling through the summer air.

When Emily returned, cheeks slightly flushed, she set two grocery bags on the counter.

"Met Chris," she said casually, pouring herself a glass of water. "Seems nice. Single, works in finance, big into fitness... you know, the usual small talk." She took a sip, glancing at Mark with a half-smile. "He invited us over to use the pool sometime."

Mark arched an eyebrow. "The pool, huh?"

Emily shrugged, a little flicker of something playful in her eyes. "Well, it's hot, and we don't have one."

That weekend, Emily pulled on her one-piece navy swimsuit, one she hadn't worn since their last vacation. She checked herself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric over her hips, frowning at the generous swell of her breasts.

"Does this still fit okay?" she asked, stepping into the bedroom.

Mark looked up and nearly choked on his water. "Uh... yeah. Definitely."

Emily rolled her eyes but smiled, a faint blush creeping over her cheeks.

They walked next door together, carrying a bottle of wine and two towels. Chris greeted them with a wide grin, his eyes flicking over Emily appreciatively in a way that made Mark's stomach tighten -- not entirely unpleasantly.

The afternoon passed easily -- drinks on the patio, lazy laps in the pool, and laughter as Emily, surprisingly tipsy, challenged both men to a water fight. Mark watched, fascinated, as Emily glowed under the attention. She was always confident, but here, under the warm sun and Chris's amused gaze, something inside her seemed to spark. Her laughter was lighter, her movements freer, and when she adjusted her swimsuit straps or smoothed her wet hair back, Mark felt a twinge of something unfamiliar in his chest.

Jealousy? Maybe.

Or was it... excitement?

The next day, Mark had errands to run. Emily lingered over breakfast, scrolling absently on her phone, then glanced out the window. Chris was in the backyard again, doing laps. Mark kissed her goodbye, and Emily assured him she'd keep unpacking.

An hour later, she stood at the fence, sipping iced tea, watching Chris with a slightly guilty curiosity. He noticed her, grinned, and waved her over.

It became the start of a quiet little ritual. While Mark was busy with work or errands, Emily found excuses to wander next door. At first, it was polite -- borrowing a cup of sugar, chatting about neighborhood things. But soon, Chris was inviting her to stay for coffee, or to dip her feet in the pool.

Mark noticed the changes slowly. Emily began buying new swimsuits, brighter colors, a bikini she hadn't dared wear in years. She brushed her hair more carefully before going next door, wore perfume even on casual afternoons. And in the evenings, she'd come home, cheeks flushed, laughing as she recounted Chris's jokes, or his clumsy attempts to show her a yoga pose on the patio.

At first, Mark told himself it was harmless. Emily was having fun, making friends. But when they were in bed, and Emily mentioned how Chris had teased her about "modeling" her new bikini, Mark felt a pulse of arousal that shocked him.

He wondered if Emily saw the heat in his eyes when she told him these stories, when his hands tightened on her hips as they made love, when he whispered in her ear, "Did he look at you like this?"

The first time he asked, she laughed, shaking her head. But later, when he asked again, Emily hesitated, a flicker of something in her eyes.

"Maybe," she said softly, "just a little."

Chris, for his part, was patient. He wasn't the type to push -- yet. But he knew the game, and he knew how to play it. He noticed the way Emily's laughter softened around him, how her eyes lingered just a little too long on his chest when he pulled himself out of the pool.

He saw the way she adjusted her bikini straps, the way she blushed when their hands brushed, the way she bit her lip when she caught herself looking at him. He knew she was shy -- and that made it all the more delicious.

He also noticed Mark. The way Mark watched Emily when she told her little stories, the way his jaw tightened but his eyes softened, the way his arm slipped around her waist with just a hint of possessiveness. Chris sensed the simmering tension, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. And he knew exactly how to turn that tension into something more.

But slowly. Always slowly.

One night, Mark lay beside Emily, her hair fanned across his chest, their skin still damp from sex. She traced lazy circles on his chest with her fingers.

"Chris asked if I wanted to swim tomorrow afternoon," she murmured, voice soft.

Mark tensed slightly. "Did he?"

"Mmhmm." She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest, her eyes searching his. "You don't mind, do you?"

Mark hesitated, feeling something coil low in his stomach. "No," he said, surprised at the rasp in his voice. "I don't mind."

Emily's eyes glimmered with curiosity, maybe something more. She pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone. "Good," she whispered, "because I think he likes watching me swim."

Mark's breath caught -- and in that moment, something shifted between them, something neither of them quite understood yet

The next afternoon, Mark came home early, humming to himself, only to find the house quiet. He checked the clock: 4 p. m. Emily's note was on the counter.

"Over at Chris's for a swim. Come join us when you're home! xoxo"

He glanced toward the backyard window. Through the hedge, he caught flashes of movement, bright colors, and the sound of splashing water.

When Emily came home an hour later, her cheeks were flushed, her damp hair tied up in a loose bun, droplets still clinging to her skin. She wore a pale blue bikini top with thin straps and a pair of denim shorts, her skin golden from the sun.

"Hey, babe," she called lightly, setting her tote bag down. "Sorry I missed you."

Mark leaned against the counter, watching her as she pulled open the fridge and bent slightly to grab a bottle of water. His eyes drifted down -- the curve of her ass, the way her bikini straps peeked from under her loose tank top, the faint shimmer of sunscreen on her shoulders.

"How was the swim?" he asked casually, though his throat felt dry.

Emily turned, smiling, twisting open the cap. "Fun." She took a long sip, eyes twinkling over the rim of the bottle. "Chris is... persistent. He keeps trying to get me to do laps. Says it's a good workout."

Mark chuckled, feeling a twinge of something tight in his chest. "I bet he does."

Emily crossed the room slowly, straddling his lap as he sat on one of the barstools. Her arms slipped around his neck, cool and damp from the water, her skin smelling faintly of coconut sunscreen.

"You're not jealous, are you?" she murmured, nuzzling his ear.

Mark swallowed hard, hands finding her waist, the soft curve just above her shorts. "No," he murmured, his voice rougher than he intended.

Emily smiled, pressing a teasing kiss to his neck. Her hand slid down between them, slipping under the waistband of his jeans, fingers curling around him, already semi-hard beneath the denim.

"You're sure?" she whispered, stroking him slowly, her lips grazing his jaw. "Because you're awfully quiet..."

Mark groaned, hips lifting involuntarily. His fingers dug into her hips as her hand worked him with a slow, practiced rhythm.

"He was watching me, you know," she murmured, her voice soft, almost confessional. "While I was swimming... when I got out of the pool... I could feel his eyes on me."

Mark's head fell back, breath catching. His rational mind told him to pause, to think this through, to tell her to slow down -- but her hand was warm and sure, her body pressed against his, her scent filling his senses.

"And you liked that, didn't you?" Mark rasped, his hips jerking slightly into her fist.

Emily laughed softly, nipping his ear. "Mmm... maybe."

Mark came hard in her hand, biting back a groan, his fingers clutching her thighs. Emily held him through it, her lips pressed to his neck, her breath warm on his skin.

When he finally sagged back against the stool, gasping, she smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek.

"See? Nothing to worry about," she murmured, slipping off his lap and sauntering toward the shower, the sway of her hips exaggerated just slightly.

Mark sat there, dazed, his heart hammering. And in the back of his mind, a quiet little voice whispered, You didn't tell her to stop.

The next week unfolded like a slow drip of tension.

Emily's pool visits became regular -- "just a quick swim," she'd say, slipping into a peach-colored bikini that barely covered her ass, tying a sheer sarong around her waist. Or a white one-piece with a plunging neckline that made Mark's mouth go dry.

At first, Mark told himself it was harmless. Emily was just enjoying the summer, stretching her social wings. But every night, when they were in bed, her stories came out -- light, teasing confessions that she murmured into his ear as her hand slid under the covers.

"Chris says I have a swimmer's body," she whispered one night, stroking him lazily as Mark bit back a moan. "Can you believe that?"

Mark tried to laugh it off, but his cock twitched in her hand, and Emily felt it -- smiling against his skin as she kissed her way down his chest.

Another night, she straddled him in bed, grinding slowly against his hard length as she told him, "He keeps offering to give me swimming lessons... says I need to work on my form..."

Mark's hands gripped her thighs, his head spinning, his heart pounding. He told himself he should be worried, should tell her to stop -- but Emily's hips rolled, her lips parted, her breasts spilling over the edge of her lace nightgown, and Mark lost himself in the heat of her body, the sweet rush of her whispered stories.

Chris, meanwhile, played his part masterfully.

He never pushed, never crossed the line too soon. He flirted lightly, complimented Emily's laugh, her smile, the graceful way she moved in the water. He let his eyes linger just a second longer than polite when she adjusted her bikini strap or bent over to dry her legs. He offered sunscreen with an easy grin, his fingers brushing her shoulders just a little too slowly.

He knew she was curious.

He knew Mark was watching from the sidelines, even if Mark didn't fully admit it to himself yet.

And he was patient. Always patient.

A few days later, Emily returned from the pool with a funny, nervous little smile playing on her lips. Mark was in the living room, laptop open on his knees, half-watching a game and half-checking emails.

"Hey, babe," Emily called lightly, slipping off her sandals and padding inside.

Mark glanced up -- and immediately lost his train of thought.

Emily wore a pale yellow sundress, the thin straps barely clinging to her shoulders, the fabric fluttering over her hips. Her skin still glistened faintly from the sun, and damp tendrils of hair clung to her neck. Mark's gaze swept downward, catching the faint outline of her bikini underneath.

"You have a good time?" he asked, closing the laptop.

Emily gave him a sly little smile. "Yeah... actually, I have something to tell you."

Mark raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Oh?"

Emily crossed the room, settling on his lap without invitation, her thighs warm against his. Her fingers toyed with the collar of his T-shirt as she kissed his jaw.

"So... Chris has this work event on Friday. Sort of a couples thing. Dinner, drinks, networking. He didn't have a date, and well..." She kissed the corner of Mark's mouth, her voice light and teasing. "I may have agreed to go."

Mark tensed slightly beneath her. "You did, huh?"

Emily gave an exaggerated pout. "He's been so nice, letting me use the pool and all. I didn't want to seem rude. And it's just dinner." She wriggled slightly, pressing her hips down, her warm core shifting against his growing hardness.

Mark's hands slid automatically to her thighs, thumbs brushing over the soft skin just below the hem of her dress. "Emily..."

She laughed softly, nipping his earlobe. "Mmm... you're not mad, are you?"

Before he could answer, Emily's hand slipped down, nimble fingers undoing the button of his jeans, sliding inside.

Mark's breath hitched. "Emily--"

Her fingers curled around him, stroking with slow, feather-light touches. Her lips brushed his ear, voice soft and teasing.

"It's just one night," she murmured. "One dinner. And you trust me, don't you?"

Mark groaned, his head falling back, hips arching helplessly into her hand. Rational thought fled in a rush of heat. Emily's mouth found his throat, her strokes growing firmer, her thumb circling his tip.

"You trust me, baby," she whispered, licking softly at his pulse point. "Say yes."

Mark's fingers dug into her thighs, his breath ragged. "Y-Yeah... yes..."

Emily smiled against his skin, her hand tightening as she coaxed him over the edge, leaving him gasping and trembling beneath her.

When he finally opened his eyes, she was already slipping off his lap, her dress swaying as she disappeared into the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, "Oh, and Chris said it's formal -- so I'll need a new dress."

Mark collapsed back against the couch, heart pounding, and realized -- once again -- that Emily had never really waited for his answer.

Friday came far too quickly.

Emily stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands over the curve-hugging black dress she'd bought -- thin straps, a plunging neckline, the hem hitting mid-thigh. She turned slightly, eyeing the way the fabric clung to her ass, then glanced at Mark in the doorway.

"Too much?" she asked innocently, adjusting the delicate gold chain at her throat.

Mark swallowed hard. "Jesus, Em."

She smiled, eyes glimmering with satisfaction. "So... not too much?"

Mark crossed the room, sliding his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. "You're gonna kill him in that dress," he murmured.

Emily met his gaze in the mirror, lips curving. "Mmm. Maybe that's the idea."

Chris arrived right on time, dressed in a sharp navy suit, his usually casual charm polished into something more dangerous. His eyes swept over Emily with an appreciative flicker, his lips curving into a slow smile.

"Wow," he murmured, offering his arm. "I'm going to have to fight them off tonight."

Emily laughed, slipping her hand into his elbow. She turned, pressing a quick, playful kiss to Mark's cheek.

"Don't wait up," she teased lightly.

Mark watched them walk to the car, his gut a twist of jealousy and heat. And deep down, a small, sharp voice whispered: You agreed to this.

The venue was a sleek downtown hotel, the kind with glittering chandeliers and a rooftop terrace. Emily felt eyes on her the moment they walked in -- men glancing over their drinks, women watching her with speculative smiles. Chris kept her close, a hand resting lightly at the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd with effortless confidence.

"Emily," he murmured in her ear as they approached a group, "just follow my lead."

Introductions blurred in a haze of champagne and laughter. Emily smiled, shook hands, murmured polite greetings. But it was the moment Chris wrapped an arm around her waist and smoothly introduced her as "my girlfriend, Emily" that made her pulse skip.

Her lips parted slightly -- a flicker of surprise, of uncertainty. She shot Chris a quick glance, but he just smiled down at her, warm and possessive.

Somewhere, deep inside, Emily felt something thrilling uncurl -- a rush of daring, of possibility. She let herself lean into his side just a little more, smiling up at him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Mark sat on the couch, a whiskey glass in hand, phone buzzing silently next to him. Emily had sent a few photos -- a cheeky bathroom mirror shot, her lips slightly parted, the curve of her cleavage framed by delicate gold jewelry. A blurry selfie of Chris beside her, his arm slung casually over her shoulder.

"Having fun -- don't wait up ❤️"

Mark scrolled through the messages, heart hammering. His cock stirred, half-hard already just from the images, from the mental movie reel playing in his head.

When Emily came home that night, it was past midnight. She slipped into the bedroom, barefoot, hair tousled, cheeks flushed with wine and laughter.

Mark stirred, half-asleep, blinking against the lamp's soft glow.

"Hey," Emily whispered, smiling as she kicked off her heels. She crossed the room, crawling onto the bed, straddling him with a slow, sensual roll of her hips. Her dress slid up her thighs, cool satin against his skin.

"Miss me?" she teased, fingers slipping under the hem of his T-shirt.

Mark groaned, hands finding her waist. "Mmm. Maybe."

Emily laughed softly, bending to kiss his throat. "He was very well-behaved," she murmured, nipping his ear, "but he couldn't keep his eyes off me."

Her hips rocked slowly, the heat of her body seeping through the thin fabric of her panties, her hands already tugging at the waistband of Mark's boxers.

"And when he introduced me as his girlfriend..." she whispered, pressing her lips to his ear, "I let him. Isn't that wicked?"

Mark's breath hitched, his cock thickening in her hand. Emily smiled, kissing him deeply as she guided him inside her, sinking down with a soft, shuddering sigh.

"Such a good husband," she murmured, rolling her hips slowly. "Letting me have a little fun..."

Mark's hands gripped her thighs, his head falling back as Emily rode him with slow, grinding movements, her breath hot against his skin, her whispered confessions driving him wild.

Emily slipped into the bedroom like a shadow, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Mark stirred under the sheets, blinking against the dim light of the bedside lamp. And then he saw her -- bare-foot, hair tousled, cheeks flushed with wine and something darker, lips slightly parted, still wearing that wicked black dress that clung to every curve of her body.

"Hey," Emily murmured, her voice low, a little breathless.

Mark sat up, heart thudding. His eyes swept over her -- the dress rumpled high on her thighs, the faint outline of her big tits pushing against the thin fabric, nipples hard and obvious under the satin. Her skin gleamed in the soft light, her thighs pale and smooth as she crossed the room.

Without a word, she crawled onto the bed, straddling him, pushing the sheets down to his waist.

"Did you have fun?" Mark rasped, his voice rough with sleep and something darker.

Emily smiled faintly, brushing her lips over his jaw. "Mmm," she hummed, rocking her hips against him, feeling the way his cock twitched under the thin fabric of his boxers. "I missed you."

Mark's hands slid up her thighs, under the edge of her dress, fingers grazing the soft skin just below her ass. She wasn't wearing panties. His breath hitched.

"No panties, Em?" he murmured, kissing her throat, his voice rougher now. "You wore this tiny fucking dress with no panties?"

Emily laughed softly, nipping his ear. "Shhh," she breathed, grinding her bare pussy over the hard shape of his cock.

Mark groaned, his hands tightening on her hips. But in the back of his mind, the questions stirred.

What did Chris see tonight? How close did they dance? How many times did his eyes drop to her tits, her ass, her long bare legs? Did he touch her when they walked out together? Did he brush his fingers along her lower back, maybe even graze the curve of her ass? Did they share a moment in the taxi? A kiss?

Mark's chest clenched, cock throbbing as Emily kissed down his throat, her hands slipping under his shirt, nails raking lightly over his stomach. His mind was racing, but his body was hers.

Emily pushed his shirt up and off, her mouth finding his nipples, her teeth grazing lightly before she kissed lower, dragging her tongue down his chest.

"You're so fucking hard," she whispered, fingers curling around his cock through the thin fabric. She tugged his boxers down, freeing him, wrapping her hand around him with a slow, practiced stroke.

Mark hissed between his teeth, hips jerking. His hands tangled in her hair, tugging her head up. "Get on top of me," he growled, his voice thick.

Emily smiled, straddling him again, the head of his cock nudging against her wet, swollen pussy. She was soaked -- he could feel it, could hear it as she rubbed herself against him, her clit dragging along the length of his shaft.

And all Mark could think about was Chris.

Did Chris notice the way her tits bounced when she laughed? Did he catch a glimpse up her dress when she crossed her legs? Did he press against her in the taxi, his hand on her thigh, his mouth on her neck, kissing her in the dark?

Mark gritted his teeth, his cock throbbing painfully hard as Emily sank down onto him with a low moan, her tight, wet pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

"Fuck, Mark," Emily gasped, bracing her hands on his chest as she rode him slowly, rolling her hips in a deep, steady rhythm. "God, you feel so good..."

Mark's hands slid up to her waist, then higher, palming her tits, feeling the weight of them in his hands. Her nipples were hard, tight against his palms as he squeezed, watching her mouth fall open in a soft, desperate gasp.

His brain was a storm -- jealousy, lust, questions he didn't want answered. Did she kiss Chris goodnight? Did she let his hand slip up her thigh in the taxi, maybe under her dress? Did she let him feel how wet she was? Did she get turned on knowing she'd come home and fuck her husband with another man's touch still on her skin?

Emily leaned forward, her tits brushing against Mark's chest as she kissed him hard, moaning into his mouth, her pussy clenching tight around his cock.

"Fuck, Mark," she whispered, riding him faster now, slapping her ass down against his thighs with each thrust. "God, I'm so fucking wet."

He groaned, his hands moving to her hips, guiding her movements, feeling the slick, tight heat of her wrapped around him.

"You like this, don't you," Mark growled, his lips at her ear, voice rough with need. "You like coming home from a night with him and fucking me."

Emily shuddered, her breath hitching. She kissed him again, desperate, wet, her tongue sliding into his mouth.

And still Mark's mind spun. Did Chris pull her close at the bar? Did she press against him, feel his hard cock against her hip? Did they laugh about her husband, sitting at home, clueless? Did she picture fucking me while his hands were on her under the table?

Mark's cock throbbed inside her, his hips bucking up as Emily cried out softly, riding him harder, faster, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"Tell me," Mark gasped, his mouth at her ear, his voice raw. "Did he touch you tonight?"

Emily froze for half a heartbeat -- then smiled, her lips curving wickedly against his throat.

"Maybe," she whispered, rocking her hips in a slow, grinding circle. "Maybe his hand slipped up my thigh in the taxi. Maybe he kissed me goodnight."

Mark groaned, hips jerking up, fucking into her deep and hard. Emily cried out, her hands clutching at his hair, her pussy clenching around him, tight and slick and shuddering.

"God, Mark, yes, fuck me," she gasped, grinding down on him, her clit dragging over his pubic bone with every thrust. "God, fuck me, I want your cock so deep."

Mark lost himself in her -- the sound of her wet pussy sucking him in, the slap of her ass against his thighs, the way her tits bounced with every thrust. His mind raced with filthy, jealous, fucked-up thoughts, and his cock pulsed harder, thicker inside her.

Emily came first -- her body tightening, shuddering, a strangled cry leaving her throat as she clenched around him, grinding down, riding out every wave of her orgasm. Mark was right behind her, slamming up into her with a raw groan, his cock throbbing, spilling deep inside her as he clutched her hips, pulling her tight against him.

They collapsed together, breathing hard, sweaty and tangled, Emily's hair a damp curtain over his chest.

For a long moment, they lay there, hearts racing, bodies spent.

Then Emily lifted her head, eyes glittering in the dim light, lips curved in a slow, satisfied smile.

"You're so good to me," she whispered, kissing his throat.

Mark tightened his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

And in the back of his mind, the same dark, thrilling question twisted like a knife.

What aren't you telling me, Em?

Mark woke late the next morning, blinking against the soft light streaming through the curtains. His body was heavy, pleasantly sore, the covers tangled around his legs.

Emily stood at the window in just one of his old T-shirts, the hem barely brushing her thighs, sunlight glowing through the thin fabric. She scrolled on her phone, biting her lip, her long legs bare, one hip cocked slightly to the side.

Mark's cock stirred lazily under the covers.

He stretched, watching her, the memory of last night vivid in his mind -- her riding him hard, gasping his name, whispering just enough about Chris to make his head spin and his body break apart under her.

Emily glanced back, catching his eyes, a slow, playful smile curving her lips.

"Morning," she murmured, padding barefoot back to the bed.

Mark reached for her, pulling her down beside him, nuzzling her neck, his hands sliding under the hem of the shirt to cup her warm, bare ass.

"You're insatiable," Emily teased, laughing softly as she kissed his mouth.

"I wonder why," Mark murmured against her skin, his cock already hardening between them.

Emily shifted, straddling his hips, grinding slowly against him, the thin cotton of her shirt brushing his chest.

"Want to know something?" she whispered, voice low, lips brushing his ear.

Mark groaned, hands tightening on her thighs. "What?"

Emily's hips rocked in slow, teasing circles. "Chris texted me this morning."

Mark stiffened slightly beneath her, breath catching.

Emily smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes. "He said last night was fun. Said I looked... incredible."

Mark's cock twitched, thick and hot against her pussy. Emily ground down a little harder, feeling it pulse under her.

"He said he can't wait to see me at the pool again," she murmured, kissing along Mark's jaw. "Said he's never met anyone quite like me."

Mark groaned, hips jerking up, his brain a storm of jealousy and lust. Emily's pussy was already slick against him, heat radiating through the thin barrier of his boxers.

"Emily," he rasped, mouth at her ear, "what else happened last night?"

Emily smiled sweetly, rolling her hips again. "Mmm... what do you want to know?"

Mark's breath came fast, his hands sliding up under her shirt, fingers brushing the soft swell of her tits, teasing her hard nipples.

"Did you kiss him?" he growled, biting lightly at her neck.

Emily gave a soft laugh, her head tipping back as she rocked against him.

"Maybe," she whispered, grinding down harder. "In the taxi. Just a little."

Mark groaned, flipping her onto her back, pushing the shirt up and off, baring her body completely. Her big tits bounced softly as she laughed, legs spreading eagerly as Mark settled between them.

"Tell me," Mark growled, sliding his cock against her dripping pussy, teasing her slit. "Did you let him touch you?"

Emily wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down, her mouth at his ear. "Maybe," she breathed. "Maybe his hand was on my thigh the whole drive. Maybe he slipped it under my dress."

Mark slammed into her hard, burying himself deep in one stroke. Emily gasped, nails digging into his back as he fucked her rough and fast, teeth gritted, mind reeling.

Did Chris touch her pussy? Did his fingers slide under her dress, brush her panties, feel how wet she was? Did she squeeze his hand, lean into him, moan softly in the dark?

Mark drove into her harder, his cock pounding into her tight, wet heat, sweat slicking their bodies as Emily writhed beneath him, gasping his name.

"Fuck, Emily," Mark groaned, mouth at her throat, hands fisting in her hair. "You're driving me fucking insane."

Emily arched under him, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her pussy clenching tight.

"I know," she whispered, voice wicked and soft. "I love it."

Later, as they lay tangled and sweaty, catching their breath, Emily stretched lazily, grabbing her phone again.

Mark watched her, heart still hammering, his cock softening slowly between his thighs.

"Is he still texting you?" Mark asked roughly, a little edge creeping into his voice.

Emily smiled faintly, not looking up. "Mmhmm. He's funny."

Mark exhaled hard, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Emily set the phone aside, rolling over to straddle him again, her bare pussy pressing against his stomach, her tits swaying softly as she leaned down to kiss him.

"Relax," she murmured, lips brushing his. "It's just flirting."

Mark's hands slid up her sides, fingers grazing the curve of her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples.

"Flirting, huh," he murmured, voice dark.

Emily grinned, rocking against him. "Flirting. And maybe..." She kissed him again, slow and deep. "... a little dangerous."

Mark groaned, pulling her down on top of him, his mouth devouring hers, his hands sliding over her ass.

That afternoon, as Mark showered and tried to clear his head, Emily sat on the patio in her tiny red bikini, phone in hand, legs stretched out, sunglasses pushed up on her head.

Chris's message blinked on the screen.

Chris: You looked incredible last night. Couldn't keep my eyes off you.

Chris: *Pool later? Just us. ;) *

Emily bit her lip, heart racing, heat pooling low in her belly. She glanced toward the bathroom, where Mark's shadow moved behind the glass door.

A wicked little smile curved her lips as she typed.

Emily: Maybe ;)

The sun was high and hot, the air thick with summer heat when Emily slipped out the back door in her tiny black bikini, a towel draped over one arm.

Mark had left for the afternoon, muttering something about errands, giving Emily the perfect window. Chris had texted that morning -- "Pool's all yours. Come over if you're feeling brave ;)" -- and Emily, heart thudding, had texted back, "Be there soon."

Now, as she walked next door, Emily felt a thrill pulse through her -- a mix of nerves, daring, and anticipation. The bikini clung tight to her big tits, barely covering the heavy swell of her breasts, the tiny bottoms flashing the curve of her ass with every step. She knew exactly how she looked. And she knew Chris would notice.

He was waiting by the pool, drink in hand, sunglasses pushed onto his head. His eyes swept over her with a slow, appreciative smile.

"Damn, Emily," he murmured, handing her a cold drink. "You're trying to kill me."

Emily laughed lightly, slipping off her sandals, stretching her long legs out on the lounge chair. "I thought you invited me over to swim," she teased.

Chris's grin deepened. "Oh, we'll get to that."

The afternoon unfolded in a lazy, charged haze. They floated in the water, sunbathed side by side, drinks refilling without anyone really counting how many. Emily felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, the fizz of champagne in her blood, and the slow, creeping sense that she was teetering on the edge of something reckless.

Chris was masterful. His hands brushed her lower back when she climbed out of the pool, lingered a second too long when he handed her a towel. When Emily reached across him for her drink, his palm pressed lightly, deliberately, to the back of her thigh.

And when they both ended up on the pool lounger, side by side, the tension snapped.

Chris leaned over, his lips grazing her shoulder, his breath warm against her damp skin.

"You're fucking gorgeous, Emily," he murmured, his hand sliding over her thigh, fingers trailing higher.

Emily shivered, biting her lip -- and didn't stop him.

Chris's mouth found her neck, teeth grazing lightly, hand slipping under the edge of her bikini bottom. Emily's breath hitched, heart hammering as his fingers brushed her pussy, stroking over the slick folds, teasing her clit. She gasped, arching into him, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Somewhere, a voice in her head whispered this is too far -- but her body didn't care.

Emily's hand moved almost on its own, sliding into Chris's lap, finding the hard, thick length pressing against his shorts. His cock pulsed under her fingers as she wrapped her hand around it, stroking slowly, feeling him grunt softly against her neck.

Chris's hand worked between her thighs, fingers circling her clit, dipping into her wet, needy pussy as she pumped him harder, faster, her own breath coming in desperate little gasps.

It was wild, messy, and over too fast -- Chris stiffened with a low groan, his cock twitching in her hand as he came, spilling over her fingers. Emily shuddered against him, biting back a soft, shaky moan as his fingers pressed deep inside her, coaxing her over the edge.

Afterward, they lay tangled on the lounger, catching their breath, the heavy silence broken only by the sound of the pool lapping softly against the tiles.

That night, Mark sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck, heart pounding as Emily walked out of the bathroom in a thin lace robe that barely reached her thighs. Her hair was damp from the shower, her skin glowing, and the sly, satisfied smile on her lips sent a bolt of heat straight to Mark's cock.

"You have a good afternoon?" Mark asked, trying for casual.

Emily crawled onto the bed, straddling his lap, her fingers sliding into his hair, her big tits spilling forward as the robe slipped open.

"Mmm. Very," she purred, grinding her hips against the hard bulge in his boxers. "Chris says hi."

Mark's breath hitched. "Yeah?"

Emily laughed softly, nipping his ear. "He's... very attentive." She kissed down his throat, her hand sliding under his waistband, fingers curling around his cock. "You don't mind, do you?"

Mark groaned, hips lifting into her fist, his hands sliding up her thighs. "Fuck, Emily..."

She kissed him deeply, her tongue slipping into his mouth, her hand stroking him slow and sure.

"Want to know a secret?" Emily whispered, brushing her lips over his jaw.

Mark's head fell back, his cock throbbing in her hand. "Jesus, yes."

Emily smiled, biting his earlobe gently. "He has a beautiful cock." Her voice was soft, wicked, laced with laughter. "And I was a very, very bad girl today."

Mark made a strangled sound, his hands gripping her hips, his mind reeling.

Emily kissed him again, rougher this time, her body grinding down against his, her hand working him faster, pulling him closer to the edge.

"Do you want to know what I let him do?" she whispered, her voice dark and teasing.

Mark's hips bucked, his cock pulsing in her fist. "Emily..."

She leaned in, lips at his ear.

"Maybe next time I'll show you."

Mark came hard, gasping against her mouth, his cock jerking in her hand as she milked every last pulse from him, her smile wicked and knowing.

Later, as they lay tangled in the sheets, Emily stroked his chest absently, her head resting on his shoulder.

Mark stared at the ceiling, heart pounding, brain spinning with jealousy, arousal, and something darker he couldn't quite name.

He wondered how far she'd really gone.

And he wondered if he wanted to know.

Emily stood at the mirror, adjusting the pale blue bikini top that barely restrained the heavy swell of her 38D tits. Her nipples were already hard, pushing insistently against the thin fabric. She twisted side to side, eyeing her reflection, biting her lip as a little thrill ran through her.

What am I doing? a small voice asked in her head.

But her body already knew.

Chris's text from that morning blinked on her phone.

Chris: You know you drive me crazy. Come over. No excuses today.

She hesitated just long enough to hear Mark in the garage, fumbling with tools -- then slipped out the door, a thin cover-up draped over her shoulders, the knot of her bikini bottom brushing high on her hips.

Chris was waiting poolside, shirtless, his toned chest gleaming in the sun. His eyes swept over her slowly, hungrily.

"Holy fuck, Emily," he murmured, rising to greet her. "I think you're trying to kill me."

Emily gave a breathless laugh, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. "Behave," she teased, slipping off her sandals.

"Oh, sweetheart," Chris murmured, stepping closer, fingers brushing her waist, "I've been behaving for weeks."

His mouth found hers before she could answer, hot and sure, his hands sliding over the bare skin of her lower back, pulling her flush against him. Emily whimpered softly, her arms slipping around his neck, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her stomach through his shorts.

"You're fucking gorgeous," Chris murmured, kissing down her throat, "and you've been teasing me in that tiny bikini for too long."

Emily shivered as his hands slid up, tugging at the ties behind her neck. The top slipped away, her big tits spilling free into his eager palms. Chris groaned low in his throat, cupping the heavy weight of them, thumbing her nipples until they hardened into tight little peaks.

"God, these tits," he growled, bending to suck one into his mouth, his tongue flicking hard over the sensitive bud. Emily gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, her hips rocking involuntarily against his thigh.

"Chris--"

"I want you," he rasped, sliding his hands down to tug at the ties of her bikini bottom. "I want all of you."

Emily's breath hitched as the scrap of fabric fell away, leaving her bare and flushed under the sun, her pussy already wet and aching. Chris kissed her hard, his hands sliding over every inch of her, his mouth devouring hers as they stumbled toward the lounger.

His shorts were gone in seconds, his cock springing free -- thick, long, hard. Emily's eyes widened slightly as her hand curled around him, feeling the weight, the heat, the sheer size.

"God," she breathed, stroking him slowly. "You're... big."

Chris groaned, gripping her waist, lifting her onto the lounger as he knelt between her spread thighs.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured, eyes dark.

Emily shuddered, breathless, her nipples tight, her pussy soaking wet.

"I want it," she whispered. "I want you."

The first push of his cock stretched her wide, stealing her breath.

"Fuck, Emily," Chris groaned, sinking deeper, his hands gripping her hips hard. "You're so tight."

Emily whimpered, arching up, her nails raking down his back as he filled her, inch by inch, his cock stretching her in a way that made her gasp and tremble. He began to move, slow at first, then faster, his hips slapping against hers, the thick head of his cock hitting places that made her cry out softly.

"Jesus, you feel so fucking good," Chris rasped, bending to take a nipple between his teeth, biting gently, sucking hard until Emily moaned and writhed beneath him.

Her tits bounced with every thrust, her pussy clenching tight around him, wet sounds filling the air as Chris fucked her harder, deeper, grinding against her clit until she was shaking, gasping his name.

"Chris--oh fuck, Chris--"

He slammed into her, hard and fast, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot, his hands squeezing her tits roughly as she cried out, shuddering, her orgasm tearing through her with a raw, desperate cry.

Chris groaned, his hips jerking, his cock pulsing deep inside her as he came, grinding against her, kissing her hard and messy, his hands still on her tits, fingers digging in.

Emily walked home on shaky legs, her hair tousled, her skin glowing, her bikini stuffed hastily into her bag.

Mark was waiting on the couch when she walked in, his eyes dark, tense, raking over her as she set her things down.

"Hey, baby," Emily murmured, sauntering over in just the thin cover-up, sliding into his lap. "Miss me?"

Mark's hands closed hard on her hips, his jaw tight. "Where the fuck have you been?"

Emily smiled, brushing her lips over his. "Chris's."

Mark's cock twitched, thick and aching against her thigh.

"Did you fuck him?" Mark rasped, his voice shaking.

Emily bit her lip, grinding down slowly, feeling him grow harder.

"Mmmhmm," she whispered. "I did."

Mark groaned, his head falling back as Emily's hands slipped into his shorts, curling around his cock.

"He was so good," Emily murmured, kissing down his neck, her voice wicked and soft. "Big cock, so thick... stretched me open, filled me so deep..."

Mark gasped, his hips bucking into her fist.

"Tell me," he groaned. "Fuck, Em, tell me everything."

Emily laughed softly, kissing his throat, stroking him harder.

"He sucked my nipples," she whispered. "Hard. Left marks. You want to see?"

Mark growled, pushing her robe off her shoulders, his mouth fastening on one nipple, biting, sucking, making Emily gasp and arch against him.

"He fucked me," she breathed, rocking on his lap. "Fucked me so hard, baby... made me come so hard..."

Mark's cock pulsed in her hand, thick and leaking, his breath ragged.

"But you know what?" Emily whispered, kissing his ear. "I love you best."

Mark groaned, his hips jerking helplessly as he came, his cock twitching in her tight grip, spilling hot and messy over her fingers.

Emily kissed him slow and deep, her smile wicked, her body soft and warm against his.

"Always you, baby," she murmured, licking her fingers clean. "But God, Chris fucks so good."

Later, as they lay tangled in the sheets, Emily curled into Mark's chest, fingers brushing lightly over his skin.

"You're not mad, are you?" she murmured.

Mark exhaled shakily, wrapping his arms around her.

"I don't even know what the fuck I am right now," he muttered.

Emily smiled against his skin, kissing his chest.

"That's okay," she whispered. "We'll figure it out."

And as Mark drifted toward sleep, his cock already stirring again against her hip, he realized -- they would.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn't want her to stop.