Across The Yard

The brutal murder of one of Appleton County's most recognized residents sent shockwaves through the affluent community, shaking it to its core. What appeared at first to be a tragic accident soon unraveled into a dark and twisted tale as old as time: forbidden love, betrayal, and bloodshed.

At the center of this sordid story stood Madison, or Madi, like her five-foot-two-inch stature, for short. What she lacked in height she made up in thickness, a front porch big enough for the pope himself to post up and pontificate from-- and the way men bowed to her every whim it's no wonder his holiness didn't.

Whether greeted as a goddess or with an oh my goodness, Madi's supple breasts weren't her only points of attraction. Her eyes were engaging, her smile inviting, and her overall personality nothing less than magnetic. Despite drawing people in, her marital vows stood watch on the guard tower, effortlessly shooting down any passes made by armies of men. Her loyalty to her husband Mathew was ironclad and steel coated. But even steel is subject to rust if neglected and left to the elements, and lately, her husband's month-long absences and anticlimactic returns were creating chinks in the armor.

It all started on a sticky summer evening in late July, the departing day casting long shadows of darkness and doubt on Madi & Mathew's relationship.

Madi was draped over the kitchen sink, her hands mindlessly cleaning dishes, her mind awash with dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies. After nearly forty days and forty nights, her husband's physical form was home, but his mind was somewhere else.

To Madi, a healthy marriage was rooted in a healthy sex life, and Mathew's many business trips provided the perfect environment for their relationships to feed and flourish. While neither looked forward to the time apart, the homecomings fostered sexual nourishment and routine rejuvenation. It was like pressing the refresh button, with each raunchy reunion reigniting their intimacy, punctuated with passionate exploration, a kinky playground to pursue carnal pleasures while pushing each other past previous boundaries.

The ritual began before Mathew even landed--flirtatious texts exchanged mid-flight, each message building on the last. Tension mounted in the car ride from the airport, and by the time he crossed the threshold, the space between them was on fire.

Not this time.

The married couple were out of sync in the weeks leading up to Mathew's trip, and the time apart had pushed them further off track. Mathew had been home for over an hour and instead of working her body over had so far seemed content working on his own body's imprint on the corner sectional.

Madi's mind was doing mental gymnastics, flipping between empathy and apathy. Maybe he's actually jet-lagged like he claims and just needs to relax a bit. But... wait a minute... Relax? What about me? I work, cook, clean... yet still managed to lose 6lbs this past month and endured the pain of a Brazilian this morning... all for him! Ahhh fuck this, if he doesn't want it, neither do I."

Madi slipped from the mental monkey bars as Mathew's voice boomed from the adjoining room,

"Oh C'mon! Where did you put the damn remote for the TV?"

Still wearing yoga attire from the morning's session, Madi removed the compression shorts and top, leaving only a matching set of turquoise Tanga briefs and a racer-back bra. She strutted into the living room like it was a runway, purposefully positioning herself between Mathew and the TV. She stopped, locked her knees, and slowly bent at the waist, her framed bottom broadcasting in high definition.

Stealing a glance, she was unsurprised to see Mathew's gaze still fixated on the flat screen featuring two muscle-bound men wrestling in Speedos. Though Madi was growing accustomed to being ignored the past few months, this felt deliberate, almost personal. She straightened up before tossing the controller to the seat beside him.

"I'll be upstairs if you're looking for-- " her voice trailed off, swallowed by the sudden increase in the TV's volume.

This episode was a microcosm of their marriage; Madi doing all she could to rekindle the flame while Mathew selfishly pissed on the kindling. Lately, the man was forever preoccupied with something, with anything, other than his wife. He'd rather watch grown men play pretend than pay her any attention, or pick up any slack, her mood, or lately, even her skirt.

A romance once full of passion and spontaneity had long since settled like sugar in a glass of tea, the sweetness of yesterday replaced with a flavorless routine of repetitive todays.

*****

Feeling insulted and flat-out pissed, Madi marched upstairs and burst through the bedroom door, the fiery frustration reaching a boiling point. She sighed, fed up and frustrated with her husband's sudden asexuality and no touching policy. At 34 years old, Madi felt trapped on an island between dejection and despair, her hormones and middle-aged mind unleashing a daily deluge of desire. Her sexual appetite had become insatiable, and what she craved was ostensibly no longer on the marital menu. The dead bedroom had left her starving, her unmet sexual needs becoming cannibalistic, consuming all her thoughts and eating her alive.

With a sharp tug, she sent the cream-colored roller blinds racing upward, revealing the sprawling bay window that framed the day's fading light. She exhaled sharply, irritation flickering in her eyes as the sun--no longer golden, but painted a pale yellow--clung stubbornly to the horizon, resisting its inevitable descent into darkness. Soon, it'll be invisible just like me, Madi thought as a sudden sadness swept over her.

Like a shot of espresso, her mood instantly perked up when she spotted her new neighbor on his back patio. The 23-year old was holding both a guitar and - like most other evenings - the undivided attention of a female companion. The college beauty queen sat starry-eyed and bemused, like a teenager in the presence of her celebrity crush.

Unbeknownst to her husband, Madi and the neighbor had struck up a friendship over the past few weeks. Technically, it was more like they were reacquainted, having previously known each other in an altogether different capacity--

Madi's mind reeled back a few weeks to that humid, airless afternoon-- the day her husband and marriage departed as a motorcade of moving trucks arrived, a collision of everything she thought she wanted with something she never knew she needed.

*****

Five Weeks Prior

"Call me when you touch down in Dallas."

After wishing him a safe flight, Madi realized she had misspoke - Dallas was the previous trip - this time he was headed to Vegas. She waited, hoping he would chime in and correct her, but was not surprised when he said nothing at all.

Whatta you know? He's not even paying attention. Big surprise.

Madi had learned to pick her battles, choosing this time to let it go, lest she be bombarded with a barrage of defensive excuses-- I was in a rush... or... I didn't hear you... or... You're just hormonal...-- before he'd inevitably start grilling and gas-lighting her into submission.

Mathew continued to scramble, yanking the keys from the hook and nearly bowling her over as he bounced out the door. Madi stood like a bellhop, motionless, her arms folded across her chest. In an exaggerated show of mockery, Mathew stopped short, shaking his head in disgust. He feebly feigned interest by leaning back and planting an obligatory, cold kiss on her forehead.

There was no hug, no eye contact, no I love you. Just a terse, compulsory and muted gesture.

"Don't blow me up... I'll call you if I get a chance."

An afterthought. Madi was becoming an afterthought.

Back in motion, he pressed the key fob, flung open the drivers-side door, and launched his carry-on into the passenger seat. The black Benz roared to life and began reversing the length of the concrete driveway, the barely-audible base bumping from the Burmester speakers within.

Madi saw it before he did, and like an airplane marshal on a tarmac, began frantically waving her hands, shouting, and flying toward her husband. Responding to the rear sensors, the brakes of the C-Class locked as the vehicle lurched and came to a screeching stop. Another few feet and Mathew's sexy little sports car would have been gang-banged by the armada of trucks making their way through the neighborhood.

Madi stopped advancing as Mathew slammed his hands on the steering wheel. She watched as he angrily adjusted the mirror, then set his eyes on her, almost accusingly. As soon as the last Penske pick-up puttered past, Mathew mashed the gas and launched the tail end of the car into the street. He spun the tires like a teenager and took off in the direction of the airport, anxious to leave both Madi and his marriage in the rear view for a bit.

*****

What the fuck was that all about?

As Madi stepped back through the front door, the cooler, typically refreshing air felt anything but-- it actually felt frigid, too still, too expectant. The quietness that usually gave a sense of peace now carried the weight of things unsaid. Over the past few months, Madi and Mathew had seemingly hit - what her friends referred to as - a rough patch.

If only they knew.

The truth is they had been in a fiery wreck, a head-on collision with a brick wall.

In almost a decade, their marriage had seemed impervious to the typical ups and downs of a normal relationship. Sure, they had small disagreements and arguments from time to time, but they both subscribed to the belief of never going to bed angry. This simple practice worked miracles-- not only did it foster honest and open communication, but it laid the foundation for the healthiest sex life imaginable.

But something had shifted a few months ago, and it had only gotten worse. They weren't just having less sex-- the small gestures of affection, those that had always come so naturally, had all but vanished as well. And now that Madi thought about it, they hadn't really even spoken much over the last few days-- the few interactions had felt labored, like two actors reading lines they no longer believed, with one of them no longer wanting to be in the scene at all.

As for today, it was as if Mathew had escalated with her on purpose, like he wanted their last minutes together to be strained and uncomfortable.

She hesitated by the staircase, half-expecting Mathew to call out from the kitchen. But the echo she'd grown accustomed to, the sound of two lives colliding in small, domestic rituals, had been replaced by the absence of expectation. Even the ticking of the hallway clock sounded accusatory, reminding her of seconds spent trying to hold something together that may have already fallen apart.

Never one to shy from confrontation, Madi unpocketed her cell and dialed his number, his voicemail like a shield, repelling yet stoking her infuriation. Next, she opened a chat window and began an all-out assault on her digital keyboard, pelting him with profanities. As tears welled up in her eyes, she suddenly stopped typing. Her breathing slowed and she regained composure. In the flick of a finger, she highlighted everything she had just written, and deleted it.

I'm not doing this today. It's too beautiful outside to be cooped up in my own head.

Madi powered down her phone and for the first time she could remember, allowed herself to smile.

Madi snatched an over-sized beach towel, a bottle of bronzer, and her aviators, then filled her pink Stanley with a mango-flavored White Claw before stepping onto the back patio. The heat hit her like a blast furnace--easily thirty degrees hotter outside than in her air-conditioned abode. Between the smothering humidity and lingering distraction over Mathew's awkward exit, she barely registered the Penske trucks playing a precision game of Tetris in the neighbor's yard.

Not wanting to look like the nosy type, Madi sank into the chaise lounge and fastened her shades to her face, choosing a look of subtle indifference over intrusive curiosity. The world sharpened and softened all at once, like adding a filter to her perspective and enhancing the clarity of her surroundings. Her sights set on a shirtless man who may have climbed from the pages of a men's fitness magazine. His toned body and chiseled physique seemed out of place amongst the other movers.

"I'd be ripped up like Rambo too if I carried refrigerators on my back for a living," Mathew quipped in a condescending tone. Having come home to apologize for his behavior, Madi spun her head quickly before realizing her husband's voice was merely a manifestation of guilt brought on by fantasizing about the Adonis next door.

Like a menacing mosquito, Madi swatted the thought of Mathew from her mind and focused back on her afternoon delight.

He's probably the boss.

He seemed too young to be the homeowner, especially considering the selling price of the massive Victorian with its steep, gable roof. She sipped her Stanley, watching as he worked, never shying away from the heavy furniture, and rarely fraternizing or slacking off like the rest of the crew. Even the slightest exertion caused his muscles to bulge and Madi's heart to race.

The heat, the alcohol, and the weeks of acrimonious abstinence had Madi's mind and hormones in overdrive.

Madi lost track of time. She must have been watching the crew for hours. The stranger became blurry, as if heat waves were rising from his skin. She thought she was seeing things as he began to traverse the yard and approach the back deck where she lay sunbathing.

Maybe this is a mirage, its definitely hot enough, she thought to herself, wondering if the alcohol and heat had her hallucinating. When she looked up, the stranger was standing on her porch, his tall frame shading her face from the sun.

The fact he walked onto her property, that he came up right beside her uninvited like they were old friends was both unnerving and exciting.

"Can I help you with something?" Madi asked, her voice feigning genuine confusion.

"Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing, considering you've been watching me like a prison guard since I got here this morning."

Madi was mummified with mortification. She couldn't move, nor could she speak. His tone, his cadence, his directness in calling her out. Rarely was she at a loss for words, but the man's presence left her paralyzed and speechless.

"Good thing I'm a mind reader and know what you need."

The man lowered himself into an opposing chair until they were face to face, his strong hand coming to rest on her bare thigh a few inches above her knee. His mouth moved, the words indiscernible, his penetrative stare eye-fucking every inch of her. Her thighs spread ever so slightly as his fingers crept upward, softly like a whisper, ready to tell her bikini-clad box a secret. Shhhhhh...

This was happening fast.

Madi had never cheated on Mathew, never even come close. Yet here she was, with a perfect stranger, on the patio of her marital home, her eyes willing him to molest her. She considered screaming. After all, it was still daylight. There were movers and neighbors within earshot. But she felt that she had brought this on herself. She was a big girl and if anyone would be coming to her rescue, it was the man beside her.

As his fingers got closer to her hot sex, he suddenly stopped, a taunting smirk playing across his lips. She couldn't believe how much she wanted him to continue. Madi's mind manufactured a pool, a shimmering reflection of Mathew, suddenly shattered as the stranger's touch splashed through the water's surface.

Her logic and sense of self quickly dissolving into a puddle of passion, hunger, and lust. The spontaneity, the foreignness, the fact she didn't even know his name, none of it made sense, but all of it increased the desire.

She closed her eyes and felt the soft lips of the younger man make contact with her own, his fingers slipping under her bikini bottoms. Her intruder forced his tongue between her lips, into her mouth, melding with hers. His fingers began to explore. When he found her clit, she felt it in her lower back, and her eyes shot open. Her body temperature spiked as she shivered in the summer heat. It was as if it was happening to someone else, like she was floating above herself watching the experience.

He stopped kissing her mouth, leaned back slowly, and stared directly into her soul. He rose from the seat so he was again standing upright. Like a fish following the bait, Madi tried swimming upward to meet his mouth again. The stranger decided otherwise, placing both hands atop her shoulders and applying just enough pressure to keep her seated.

The pause was painful, like stopping a meal mid-starvation, her pussy salivating. Her body was reacting to the hunger involuntarily, contracting and relaxing her pelvic muscles, flexing and puckering her tight asshole. She wanted him wanted him to witness what she was doing, to stare at her private parts, to watch what he was not suppose to see. Every sensual spot, every intimate inch of her body was being stimulated by nothing more than eager anticipation.

Finally, the waiting was over. The man unfastened his belt and let his cock spill out, a massive member that began to get hard before her very eyes. He was moving it as if attached to a string, dancing it in front of her, teasing and tempting her.

His short, manicured pubic hair was stark in contrast to her husband's wild, unkempt bush. His muscular frame came into full view as she reached forward with one hand and finally touched the man's cock. She ran her hand along the underside and felt his solid, cum-filled balls. Time stood still but everything moved in Madi.

It felt different than her husband's. Bigger. Better. Meaner. She gripped and squeezed, pulling it forward as it seemed to elongate in her hand. A large bead of pre-cum appeared that she rubbed with her thumb and spread over the tip. Refusing to release it, she began tenderly stroking it, treating it like it was fragile, knowing full well it was anything but, and that it had the power to break her.

He wrapped his meaty hand around it, like an artisan holding the tool of his trade.

"Open your eyes," the single command activating all the nerve endings in her body, from her nipples to the nape of her neck.

Methodically, the man tapped his tool across Madi's face, her forehead, her cheeks, her eyebrows, then against her lips. Instinctively, Madi's mouth fell open, preparing to take it. He pulled it away.

"Close your mouth, SLUT." Confused, Madi did as she was told.

"When I want your mouth, I will take your mouth."

He finished his sentence and pushed his cock slowly past her eager lips, Madi maintained eye contact, her face fixed with a submissive expression that asked, Like this?

The stranger sheathed himself inside, poking the inside of her cheeks, his thumbs holding her jaw open to prevent her from closing her lips around it, denying her simply because he could. Madi knew he was teasing her, it was all she could do to not start sucking his dick like an icicle in an arid desert. His taste, like an erotic elixir, tantalized her, leaving her dazed and dizzy.

Instinctively, she hunched her head forward again, taking more of his manhood inside her mouth. Finally, she wrapped her lips around the entire head, consuming him. He seemed to relinquish control so she didn't stop there. The man groaned, a guttural sound in tune with Madi's own lust.

Her lips and mouth moved slowly down his shaft until her nose was planted firmly in his pubic hair, his cock impaling her throat. Mathew no longer occupied any space in her mind whatsoever, as she rapidly rolled her mouth up and down on the rigid shaft. She could feel the thick vein on the underside of his cock against her tongue as she devoured him.

Her pussy was pulsating, a steady throb, her entire area a soaked mess. The man placed his hands on the back of Madi's head and began thrusting violently in and out. Madi realized what was happening and tried to pull away, but it was too late. He thrust his iron rod one last time and held her face against his stomach as he spurted load after load down the back of her throat and into her belly. Madi gripped his ass, her eyes spilling tears as she fought the impulse to gag. She could feel his thick vein pulsing in her mouth, her throat being assaulted as this young stud continued to force feed and fuck her face like she belong to him.

The man drew in a deep breath, his chest rising as a wry smile tugged at his lips. Then, with a measured pause, he opened his mouth and said--

"Excuse me.. Ma'am?"

The sudden tap on her shoulder nearly scared her to death. `

"I'm sorry ma'am. You sounded like you were gagging and I was worried you might be having a heat stroke..."

Madi let out a gasp as if she had been holding her breath, instinctively grabbing the towel and covering her body as she sat in the hulking shadow of the unexpected visitor.

"Oh, no, no, no... that's ok. I'm ok. I guess I did pass out for a few. Can I help you with something?"

Deja Vue.

Madi scanned her surroundings for her sunglasses, figuring they must have fallen off while she slept.

"Is this little guy yours?"

Giving up the search, she turned to the man, her face merely a foot from the zipper of his cargo shorts. Suddenly embarrassed, she tilted her neck upward and raised a hand to block the late afternoon rays.

In his outstretched arms, the man was holding a small, Yorkshire Terrier.

"Ohhh no, no... She's not mine. That's Fionna. She belongs to the Clarkes down the street. She's an escape artist, aren't you... you good little girl you..."

The dog wriggled in his hands, clearly excited as Madi softened her voice and spoke directly to the little creature. The man placed the dog on the deck and smiled as she scurried and scampered away.

"Well, sorry to have startled you. I'm just moving in next door. My friends call me CJ."

Still distracted from her daydream, she replied, "How rude of me. I'm Madison. Madison McV--"

"Mrs. McVey!? As in Mrs. McVey from Appleton High? It's me... CJ... you know, Charlie. Charlie Caruso."

Instantly, Madi shot up from the chair, her glistening, bikini-clad breasts sliding against his chiseled, six-pack abs.

"Charlie? Oh my God, CHARLIE! Look at you! Gimme a hug honey!"

"Ok but I'm sweating-- "

Madi ignored the weak protest and thrust her arms around her former student, their near naked bodies mashing together as one. As CJ embraced her shorter frame, Madi's face fell inside the pit of his arm, the scent of his endorphins intoxicating.

They chatted for a few minutes, the sexual energy rising like mercury by the second.

While Madi never showed an interest in sports, she'd have to be living under a rock to not know the name CJ Caruso, even if she wasn't his teacher. During his senior season, each game was a whirlwind of TV cameras and media personnel, from ESPN to Barstool Sports, as people came from far and wide to catch a glimpse of the top ranked high school quarterback in the nation.

Madi was always impressed with the poise he carried himself considering his massive stardom at such a tender age. Somehow the teen remained grounded, the rare breed of student / athlete that was approachable, friendly with the faculty, the protector of the bullied, and beloved by all.

Eventually, Charlie excused himself to get back to the business of moving in. As he started off the back patio, he turned back and said,

"Almost forgot. I was the one driving the truck this morning," motioning with his head to the driveway, a reference to the near collision earlier. "It was my fault... I wasn't paying attention... Can you apologize to your father for me?"

"My father? That wasn't my father. That was--"

Madi stopped mid-sentence, acutely aware her former pupil was not only being facetious, but clearly flirting with her. Madi was used to weak attempts by bold men to woo her-- as a gorgeous woman, it came with the territory. While they ranged from mildly humorous to flat-out threatening, most of the time she found the feeble attempts pathetic and annoying.

But Charlie, he was different.

The simple compliment, in such contrast to the stale, selfish interactions with her husband, caught her like a left hook, unsteadying her guard. Her balance was rocked, blurring the line between the dreamscape she had just imagined and the reality she suddenly yearned to experience. All the pressure of preserving a meaningless marriage, of being the perfect partner, popped something in her soul. She felt lighter, more self-aware, her walls weakened, vulnerable and in need. And in that instance, the dam broke.

Back to Present Day

Peering down at the beautiful blond bombshell, a familiar twinge of jealousy began to take hold of Madi's loins. It wasn't envy of the woman's beauty-- Madi knew she could hold her own in any pageant. Nor was it about her youth; while getting older had its challenges, Madi considered her mid-thirties to be the prime of her life.

So what was it making her feel this way? The answer was simple-- Madi knew what was in store for this little lady, this lucky little bitch. And while she'd love to tell herself it was because she was a clairvoyant or possessed a sixth sense when it came to sex, the actual reason was a bit shameful for her to admit-- it was because since Charlie had moved in last month, Madi had managed to earn a midnight Master's degree in voyeurism.

Madi watched nightly as CJ feasted on a smorgasbord of females, rarely bringing back the same more than once. There were blonds and brunettes, tall girls and short ones; some skinny, but most thick; a few with basketball boobies, others merely mosquito bites.

There were black girls, white girls, Puerto Rican women and Asians. CJ was equal opportunity employer, putting in work and dealing dick indiscriminately, with Madi receiving free admission to his private school in the art of fucking. The irony of who was conducting the class was not lost on her. The student had become the teacher.

Scowling at Blondie, Madi struggled with what was more severe: Charlie's addiction to sex, or her addiction to watching him?

Madi watched the barely-legal, bleach-blond floozy cock her head to the side as CJ's thick fingers strummed the guitar. It took all of about 10 seconds before Blondie stood up, her form-fitting, pastel-peach sun dress hugging her hips. She outstretched her hand, then pulled CJ to his feet and led him to the patio's screen door.

CJ slid the guitar strap over his shoulder and stood aside, an unspoken gesture of 'ladies first.' Blondie smiled, no doubt thinking she had hit the jackpot-- tall, rich, handsome, and a gentleman to boot. But Madi had seen this a dozen times already over the last two weeks.

It won't be long now.

Almost on queue with her thought, CJ did something that caught his little sidepiece off-guard-- as Blondie stood in the threshold of the door, he raised his hand to the heavens then brought it cutting through the air, his open palm landing square on his date's cute, shapely rear-end. The five-foot-nothing slut arched inward and listed forward, immediately covering her backside, her eyes shooting to his in mock terror and confusion.

Madi thought back to the first time she watched Charlie use one of these girls as a personal fuck slave. At first, she convinced herself that she HAD to watch. Whether she was turned on or not was irrelevant. She needed to make sure these women were okay, that Charlie didn't take his perversions too far. But with each new girl, with each mouth he fucked, each hole he gaped, each nipple he pinched, ass he spanked, neck he choked, Madi found herself craving more.

More depravity. More fetish. More taboo. More Charlie.

The anticipation of it over the previous few minutes was like opening a valve in her panties. The momentary concern for the girl was quickly washed away by a flood of lust, her own cunt catching fire as her heart started racing. She slowly backed away from the window toward her bed, butterflies in her belly, so horny it hurt.

Night unfurled as swiftly as what she just witnessed, swallowing the last remnants of daylight in its unyielding embrace. Just as Madi turned toward her bed, a sudden flash of light cut through the darkness-- it was CJ's upstairs bedroom, glowing like a beacon, insistent and unignorable-- beckoning for Maddi to look this way, the show's about to start.

Madi froze, eyes locked on the window's stark illumination, the contrast inviting. It reminded her of a police lineup-- the way suspects stood, exposed under glaring lights, while unseen observers lingered in the shadows, their anonymity intact.

Madi poured herself into bed, grateful for its placement and the direct line of sight into CJ sex dungeon. She reached into the nightstand, the top drawer recently opened and closed more times than a fast food cash register. Despite fucking herself becoming routine, getting off to another couple while Mathew sat downstairs would be a first. It excited her. It didn't take long to fish out her friend, a toy she and a few of her trusted gal pals affectionately referred to as the 'Hold Me Over.'

Madi propped a pillow behind her, allowing her to lean against the headboard comfortably, the large bay window functioning as a movie screen. Quickly, she slid down her turquoise panties, stopping when they were just above her knee. She relished the feeling of restraint the elastic provided when she tried to spread her legs further. Like pressing play on a movie, the scene in CJ's bedroom materialized in front of her.

The little slut appeared first, the confidence she exuded earlier replaced with a panicked posture as streaks of dark eyeliner were now running down her cheeks.

Madi watched wantonly in silence as a shirtless CJ entered, his upper body seemingly carved from wood. Madi's pussy was gushing as she began running her hand down her toned physique, first caressing her neck, slowing as she topped her tits to tug on her already distended nipples. At the same time, CJ reached out and caressed the slut's face, stepping forward so their bodies were nearly flush.

A full foot taller, CJ leaned down and kissed her mouth roughly, his hand fastening around her throat. He held her in place, his head now bobbing back and forth as he simulated fucking her mouth with his tongue. He released her neck and slapped her face, not hard enough to leave a mark but mean enough to signal that he was the boss, that he was in control.

Forcefully, he spun her around and pulled her by the waist against his body. He slid off the shoulder straps of her dress allowing gravity to do the rest. Madi fixated on the girl's firm tits, confident enough in her own sexuality to fantasize about her for a minute.

This lucky little whore.

From behind, CJ traced the sides of her body with his hands a few times before grabbing her hair close to the scalp and pulling her head backwards. She opened her mouth, as CJ roughly plunged two fingers past her teeth.

Letting go of her hair, his hand now found her chest, his fingers gently tracing her areola before violently pinching it. He ripped and released, ripped and released, ripped and released. When he let go a final time, Madi watched in jealousy as her nipple retreated in resignation while remaining stiff and swollen. The sudden pain caused Blondie to blindly grab behind her, digging her nails into CJ's muscular thighs.

CJ began focusing both hands on her tits, alternating between gentle taps and moan-inducing slaps. As she tried rotating her body to face him, CJ stopped her, instead bending her at the waist so her upper body was flat on his mattress, her feet firmly planted on the floor, her ass high in the air and exposed.

Thatta boy Charlie... punish that slut.

As if hearing her thoughts, CJ spanked her ass several times, treating her perfect rump anything but gently. He tickled and teased the back of her thighs, occasionally running a single finger lightly between her cheeks. Madi watched as Blondie's knees nearly buckled. CJ fell to one knee, his face on plane with her delectable derriere, clearly worshiping her perfect figure. He played with it like it belonged to him, opening and closing her cheeks.

Madi mimicked the motion on her own ass, spreading her hole while trying to flex it closed to no avail. Blondie looked back in protest, inciting CJ as he reached forward and grabbed her by the wrists. He pulled her arms back and placed her hands on both of her cheeks.

Clearly following his demands, Blondie bowed her head in embarrassment while slowly spreading her rosebud for CJ. Anger welled up inside of Madi, furious she couldn't see what Charlie did, frustrated this undeserving slut was experiencing what she so badly craved.

Springing upward, he pulled Blondie to her feet by her hair before saying something in her ear. Madi couldn't hear what was said, but it didn't take long to figure it out as the slut dropped to her knees in front of him. CJ placed his leg on a small wooden chest at the base of the bed and plunged his rock hard cock to the back of her throat.

Following suit, Madi brought the rubber to her mouth, bumping it against her closed lips, her other hand trailing down her belly, over the tiny tuft of hair a half inch above her freshly-waxed pussy, and coming to rest between her legs. She wasted no time spreading the slick lips of her labia with two digits, teasing and tapping her tight opening with her ring finger while mimicking the motion against her mouth with the toy.

She pushed the toy and parted her lips, driving it to the back of her throat, her eyes filling with tears as she fought the urge to gag. At the same time, she penetrated her soaking snatch with a single digit, exploring her hot sex before sliding it out and resting it on her clit. She brought the toy to join her other hand, running it vertically between her folds, her wetness now coating the soft purple rubber with a shiny sheen that made it appear a vibrant pink.

When she looked back toward the window, her personal porn participants were no longer visible. This angered her greatly, with all the ire focused on that dumb little slut. A fleeting fantasy flashed in Madi's mind, of marching over there and confronting the woman, of what her and Charlie would do to that little fuck-doll... or, even better, what that little slut and Charlie would do to her.

CJ appeared again, this time on the phone. Why would he answer the phone at a time like this? Before she could ponder it further, Madi's bedroom door swung open and in came her husband. With no time to even cover up, Mathew was on the side of the bed, opening the closet, not yet acknowledging his half-naked wife in the bed beside him.

TO BE CONTINUED