The Evening To Ourselves

Part One: Warm Skin and Quiet Signals

The bedroom was warm and quiet; lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the flickering shadows of a candle I'd moved-deliberately-from the bathroom. Her favourite one, lavender and jasmine. I'd changed the sheets, smoothed them down, even folded a towel at the foot of the bed. It wasn't elaborate, but it felt... intentional.

I heard the bathwater drain from down the hallway. Then the slow, ever so slightly creaky bathroom door. And then her - Lucie - moving gently down the hall.

She came into the room wrapped in her cosy dressing gown, skin flushed from the bath, hair still slightly damp. She looked comfortable. Quiet. Beautiful. Not in that polished, posed way the world pushes, but in the real, relaxed way she rarely lets herself settle into.

"You lit the good candle," she said, smiling as she closed the door behind her.

"Well, you're the good guest tonight." I reached out a hand. "Come lie down?"

She hesitated, only briefly. "No undressing yet?" she teased, pulling the dressing gown tighter, maybe out of habit. But I saw the way her eyes swept across the bed. I heard the softness in her voice.

"Only if you want to," I said gently. "You're in charge tonight."

That made her smile again - smaller, more to herself - and she crossed to the bed, climbing on carefully, stretching out on her front with the dressing gown loosely belted around her waist. The hem slid slightly as she settled, revealing the curve of her thigh.

"God, this feels nice already," she murmured, voice muffled by the pillow.

Part Two: The Drawer, and the Drift

She shifted slightly as I worked the oil onto her lower back, the robe parting just enough for me to see the top of her bum. I didn't make a show of noticing. I just let my hands slow, pressing deeper, moving in small, patient circles as if I could ease away every inch of tension that had built up between work, family, and everything in between.

She let out a quiet sigh, the kind that comes not from sleepiness but from release. Not the erotic kind. The emotional kind. The *it's safe to let go* kind.

"We don't get this enough, do we?" I murmured, my fingers tracing a soft line down either side of her spine.

"Time together?" she replied without opening her eyes. "God, no. Between the boys, and work, and always feeling like there's something I should be doing..."

Her voice drifted off, but I felt the weight of it settle between us.

I leaned in, kissed her shoulder gently. "There's nothing you need to do right now. You're here. With me."

A pause. Then a soft smile. "That sounds dangerously relaxing."

I let my hands slide lower, over the curve of her hips now. Her dressing gown was parted, and though the belt still hung loosely at her waist, the folds had slipped open. I could see the softline of her thighs, the curve of her bum, still flushed from the bath.

I wanted to tell her how good she looked - how much I loved the way her body moved under my hands, how she didn't need to *change* a thing to be desired - but I also knew that words, sometimes, could break the spell. So, I let my hands do the talking. Slower now. More certain. Letting my touch linger where she was warmest.

I shifted back for a second, reaching for more oil, and as I did, my eyes flicked - just for a moment - to the drawer by the bed.

It wasn't deliberate. Just instinct.

But she caught it.

"What are you looking at?" Her voice was a mix of mischief and suspicion.

I smiled. "Just... thinking."

She rolled onto her side slightly, propped herself up on one elbow. The robe slipped, revealing one breast - full, soft, the nipple already slightly peaked from the shift in temperature or mood, or maybe both. She didn't cover it.

"About what?"

I hesitated, then shrugged, keeping my tone casual. "About what's in there."

She raised a brow, lips curling. "Planning ahead, are we?"

"Maybe."

A beat. Then, softer: "What were you thinking of?"

I met her eyes. "The glass one. The one you like best."

Her breath caught - subtly, but it did. And then her gaze dropped for a second to the drawer, and back to me. She didn't say yes. But she didn't say no either.

Instead, she lay back slowly, her robe falling open further now, and looked at me with that same half-smile.

"Well," she said, her voice low and steady. "Better make sure I'm properly relaxed first."

Part Three: Hands and Hums

Her robe was half-open now, the pink-and-white stripes slipping against the curve of her waist. I could see the swell of her breast more clearly - the weight of it shifting as she lay back down, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other resting by her side, fingers grazing the edge of the towel.

I moved beside her again, kneeling on the bed this time, my thighs brushing the outside of hers. Ididn't rush to touch her. I just sat there for a second, watching the way the candlelight caught the glint of oil on her skin. The way her chest rose and fell. The faint flush on her neck.

She turned her head to look at me. "You're staring."

"Can you blame me?"

Her lips twitched into that familiar half-smile, the one I loved - amused, self-conscious, secretly pleased. "Feels like you're getting more out of this massage than I am."

"I haven't even started the good part yet."

At that, she let out a quiet laugh. "Go on, then. Impress me."

I leaned in and kissed her - not rushed, not demanding. Just the soft press of lips against hers. I felt her hand come up to rest against my cheek, her fingers warm and slow, as if she were rediscovering the shape of my face.

We kissed again. Deeper this time. I shifted closer, one hand on her waist, the other brushing the edge of her robe. She made no move to stop me, just lifted her hips slightly so I could ease the fabric away.

She was warm under my hands. Soft. Real. Her skin still damp from the bath, and her scent a mix of candle and lavender and something I'd always known as her. The curve of her belly, the softness of her thighs - I didn't rush past them. I let myself *see* her. All of her.

She noticed. I could feel it.

"Still okay?" I murmured, my hand drifting up to cup her breast.

"More than okay," she whispered. "But... I want to touch you too."

There was something in her voice - not just arousal, but *intent*. A shift in energy. Not me taking care of her. *Us*, together, again.

I lay back slightly, letting her sit up. Her robe slipped fully off now, pooling behind her as she reached for me. Her fingers brushed the hem of my t-shirt, lifting it slowly, eyes on mine as she revealed my chest.

"You're always warm," she said, almost absently, her palms smoothing over me. "I love that."

I tilted my head, smiling. "Should I lie back?"

"Not yet."

Her hands wandered lower. She wasn't hurrying, but she was *deciding* now - not waiting for me to guide her. One palm grazed the front of my shorts. She looked up at me, eyes glinting.

"Hard already?"

"Thinking about you'll do that."

She gave a soft, amused hum and leaned forward, kissing just below my collarbone, then lower - not rushing, just teasing. As she did, I felt my own hand drift behind her, resting lightly at the base of her back.

We stayed like that for a while. Just kissing. Just touching. Letting the temperature rise in slow, gentle degrees.

But I couldn't help it - my gaze flicked toward the drawer again. Not obviously. Just a glance. A memory of what was inside.

Lucie noticed. Again.

She didn't say anything, but her smile told me she'd seen it.

And maybe - just maybe - she was starting to think about what came next too.

Part Four: Unwrapping Her

I moved in closer, the bed dipping slightly beneath my knees as I straddled beside her, one leg either side of her thighs. I wasn't pressing down - not yet - just resting there, comfortably above, the weight of me a quiet suggestion.

"Let's start again," I said softly.

She raised an eyebrow without opening her eyes. "Start what?"

"The proper massage."

My fingers reached for the belt of her robe and began to slowly untie it. No rush. Just the slow, satisfying slide of the knot loosening under my touch. The ends of the tie fell apart, and I gently ran my hands down along the inside edge, parting the robe open along her back, exposing her fully to the warm air and my waiting hands.

She didn't flinch or cover up. She just sighed - a long, sinking breath - and let her head rest deeper into the pillow.

I leaned forward and kissed her shoulder blade. Then lower. Then just above the curve of her spine. My lips didn't make a sound, but I felt her shiver. My hands followed, stroking up her sides and back down to the dip of her waist, then lower, over the soft swell of her hips and bum.

She was beautiful like this. Open. Relaxed. Completely hers.

I shifted back a little and began again - this time with firmer pressure, kneading gently along the tops of her thighs. My thumbs swept long lines along her skin, slow and rhythmic, easing into the meat of her muscles.

"You're tense here," I murmured.

"Probably clenching my whole life in that one spot," she replied, her voice muffled by the pillow but still playful.

I smiled. "Let's fix that."

I worked my way higher, letting my hands smooth over the roundness of her bum, thumbs pressing into the dip at the top of her thighs. She arched, just slightly, into my touch. Not a performance. Just a subtle, natural reaction - the kind you'd only notice when you've known someone long enough to feel it.

Then I leaned down and kissed her again - just above the base of her spine. Soft. Lingering.

"I love kissing you here," I whispered.

"I know," she murmured. "I like it."

I let my tongue flick out gently, tasting her skin. Her breathing changed - still steady, but deeper now. I let my mouth drift lower, then slid my hands up under her torso to cup her breasts. The weight of them in my palms, familiar and still enough to make my cock twitch with anticipation. I brushed my thumbs lightly over her nipples, already beginning to harden.

She moaned softly. "Tease."

"Always."

I pressed my chest lightly against her back now, warm skin on warm skin, my cock resting against the curve of her bum - not grinding, not demanding - just there. Hard, and undeniable. I kissed the side of her neck, slowly.

"You feel incredible," I whispered. "You always do."

She rolled her head slightly toward me, her eyes still half-lidded from the massage, her body humming with quiet arousal. "You're not doing a very good job of keeping things relaxing."

I smiled against her skin. "Depends on your definition."

Part Five: Deeper

Her skin was soft under my mouth - warm from the bath, flushed now from more than heat. I kissed a slow line down her spine, dragging my lips from the base of her neck to the small of her back, then lower, letting my breath fan across the top of her bum. I paused there, pressing my mouth to one cheek, then the other. I felt her hips shift in response - small movements, almost imperceptible, but I knew her well enough to notice them.

My fingers trailed between her thighs, lightly at first - not pushing, just teasing, brushing the insides until I felt her legs part a little more.

I leaned in and let my tongue flick over her skin, tracing the outer edge of her ass, slow and deliberate. Her breath hitched.

"You always do that," she murmured.

"What?" I said softly, still tasting her.

"Work your way around until I can't think straight."

I smiled against her skin. "It's a gift."

I let my tongue dip lower, flicking gently around her entrance, just enough to make her exhale sharply. One of her hands curled into the sheets. I took my time, just circling, licking, teasing, and then let one finger trail slowly toward her pussy.

She was wet already.

I felt it before I saw it - the heat of her, the slickness. I let my finger glide along her folds, not entering yet. Just exploring. Getting reacquainted.

Then I eased a single finger inside.

She moaned low, into the pillow, and pressed her hips back just slightly. I added another finger, then a third, slowly, watching her body take me in, the soft grip of her around my hand.

She loved this. Being filled. Being stretched. Not quickly. Not all at once. Just deep and full and slow.

"Fuck," she whispered, voice half-muffled. "More."

I curled my fingers gently, feeling her walls clench around me. My other hand reached up to her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers, then giving it a soft pinch that made her gasp - a sharp, surprised sound that turned quickly into a moan.

"You like that?" I asked.

She nodded, barely, and pushed her hips back again.

"Say it."

"I love it," she whispered. "Don't stop."

I didn't. I added a fourth finger, slowly, carefully, watching the way her body took it. She was so open, so wet, and still she wanted more.

I moved behind her, settling between her legs now, my mouth lowering to her pussy. My tongue found her clit easily - she was swollen and sensitive, every flick making her twitch beneath me.

I let my fingers stay buried deep, curling slowly, while my tongue worked in steady, rhythmic strokes. I could feel her rising - her breath sharper, her thighs trembling - and I held her firmly, not letting her pull away.

"Fuck," she gasped again. "God, I'm close."

I didn't stop. Not with my tongue. Not with my hand. I let her ride it out, chasing the edge, and when she finally came - hard, shaking - I kept going, softer now, letting her body slowly come down.

She collapsed forward onto the bed, breathing hard, her legs still spread, slick and open and beautiful.

For a long moment, we didn't say anything.

Then she turned her head slightly, glancing at me over her shoulder.

"You're still dressed."

I smiled. "I was busy."

She looked at me - really looked - then at the drawer beside the bed. Her voice was still breathless but teasing.

"You're thinking about what's in there again, aren't you?"

I didn't answer.

I didn't have to.

Part Six: Her Turn

She stayed like that for a while - facedown, breathing slowly, legs still parted, hips slightly raised. My fingers had slipped from her, but her body still held the echo of them. The way she twitched, the faint tremble in her thighs, the glow in her skin - it was all still there.

Then she turned.

Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just a shift of weight and purpose, the robe slipped fully from her shoulders as she rolled onto her back. Her body stretched out beneath me - soft, flushed, and open, the candlelight catching on the damp skin between her thighs.

"You look very pleased with yourself," she said, voice husky.

"I'm trying to look composed," I replied, sitting back on my heels. "You're making it difficult."

She glanced down at the obvious bulge in my shorts, then back up at me, her smile widening.

"I haven't even touched you yet."

"Not directly," I said. "But you've got me halfway to the edge already."

She sat up slightly, letting her hand trail over her own thigh, then between her legs, fingers lightly grazing herself. I watched as she touched her clit - slow, careful circles - and felt my cock throb hard against the inside of my shorts.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

"You want to help?" she asked, her voice deliberately casual.

"I'd love to."

She shook her head. "Not yet. Just... watch."

And so, I did.

Her legs spread a little wider, and she slipped her fingers lower, parting her folds, letting two fingers ease inside. She moaned softly, her head falling back for a moment. I could see everything - the wetness, the way her muscles gripped her fingers, the slick stretch of her pussy welcoming them in.

Watching her like that - confident, flushed, *herself* - did something to me. I felt the hunger sharpen behind my ribs. This wasn't about dominance or performance. It was about being *invited* in. Allowed to witness her pleasure. And that was hotter than anything else I could imagine.

Then she looked at me again - eyes bright, cheeks pink.

"Drawer," she said softly. "Go on."

I swallowed. Nodded.

I reached behind me, pulled the drawer open slowly, the quiet slide of it almost loud in the stillness. I didn't rush. Just glanced inside, fingers brushing past the lace and satin, the soft silicone, the smooth coolness of glass.

"You choose," she said. "But make it a good one."

My hand hesitated - then closed around the ribbed glass dildo. I turned it in my palm for a moment, feeling the weight of it, then met her gaze.

"This one?"

She nodded, her fingers still inside herself, her other hand now sliding slowly over her breast, toying with her nipple.

"I want to feel full," she murmured. "You know how I like it."

I brought the lube over, warmed a drop between my fingers, then knelt between her legs. She let her hand fall away, giving me space, but not control. This was still hers.

I kissed her inner thigh, then the other, then leaned in close, my mouth hovering just over her entrance.

"You're soaked," I whispered.

"I'm ready."

I slid the tip of the dildo through her folds, slow and steady, letting her feel the shape of it before I pressed in. Her breath caught as it entered her - just the first inch - and then again as I pushed further, her body stretching to take it.

"Oh god," she breathed. "Yes..."

Part Seven: Look at Me

I eased the glass dildo deeper, rotating it slowly as her body took it in - inch by inch - until she was filled, the soft ridges pushing gently against her walls. Her breath caught again, but this time it wasn't from the stretch - it was from the pressure, the fullness, the *knowing*.

Her fingers went back to her clit - slow, circular movements, light and careful, exactly the way she liked it. She'd told me once that she didn't need much there - just enough to feel the spark.

I sat back a little, giving her space, watching her hips begin to roll. The sight of her like that -flushed, slick, open, her body reacting with such easy, unfiltered pleasure - made my cock ache beneath the fabric of my shorts.

She caught me watching.

"Take them off," she said softly. "I want to see you."

I didn't speak. Just stood, slowly, sliding the shorts down and stepping out of them. My cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing. A glisten of precum on the tip. I sat back down on the edge of the bed, legs slightly apart, hand curling instinctively around the base.

She watched me for a moment - her eyes flicking down, her lips parting - and then tilted her hips, letting the dildo press deeper.

"Touch yourself," she whispered.

I started slow, just stroking the length of my shaft as I watched her move the toy in and out, her fingers working her clit in those small, practiced circles. Her eyes never left mine.

"This is what I think about," she murmured, voice low and breathy. "You watching me. Wanting me. But not allowed to touch."

I groaned, the sound catching in my throat. The rhythm in my hand matched hers. Every time she pushed the toy in, I stroked. Every time she whimpered, I squeezed.

She was moaning now, softly, rhythmically, her back arched just enough to lift her breasts higher, nipples hard and begging to be touched. But she didn't ask for that yet. This was about focus. About the visual. The *performance*.

"Tell me what you see," she said, breath catching as she rolled her hips up to meet the toy.

I swallowed hard. "I see you wet, and full, and fucking gorgeous."

"More."

"I see your fingers on your clit," I said, stroking faster now. "I see that toy, that cock, stretching you open. I see your thighs shaking. I see how badly you want it."

She moaned - a deeper sound this time - and pressed the dildo harder, faster, breath coming in sharp little gasps.

"God, I can feel you watching me," she whispered. "It makes it better. Hotter."

I nodded, unable to speak for a second, caught between the pleasure in my hand and the image in front of me - Lucie, completely open, playing herself like she knew every string to pluck, and letting me see every second of it.

Then she shifted - her hand still working the toy, but her gaze fixed on my cock.

"Come here," she said. "Let me taste you."

Part Eight: Just Watch Me

I moved to her side, stroking slowly, my eyes fixed on her. The dildo was still deep inside her, slick with her arousal, the ridged glass glinting under the low light. Her fingers moved with ease - not rushed, not shy. She knew her body. Knew what she liked.

And she liked being watched.

"God, I'm so full," she murmured, biting her lip as she pushed the toy in deeper. "Can you see how it stretches me?"

I could. And I nodded, mouth dry, cock twitching in my hand.

She turned her head slightly, catching my eye. There was heat in her gaze now - not just desire, but mischief. Control.

"Does it make you jealous?" she asked softly. "Knowing it's thicker than you?"

My breath caught, but I didn't stop stroking. "Yeah," I admitted.

She smiled - that same wicked smile I knew so well. "It's okay. I like how it fills me. I like imagining someone else... someone *bigger*... pushing inside me. While you just sit there. Watching."

I groaned - a low, involuntary sound - and gripped myself harder.

She arched her hips, thrusting the toy deeper again, her breath catching.

"I bet you'd love to see it," she whispered. "Me on all fours, moaning as someone else fucks me. Someone I've never even kissed. Just... using me."

She was breathing faster now, the words pushing her as much as the toy.

"And you'd watch. Hard. Maybe touching yourself. Maybe not even allowed."

"Fuck," I breathed.

Her hand moved faster, the toy sliding in and out of her with wet, rhythmic sounds.

"I'd take every inch of him," she continued, eyes half-lidded. "Let him stretch me out while you watched my tits bounce. While you saw his cock disappear into my pussy. Watching it move slowly in and out. Each thrust makes me moan. Saw me *choose* his cock..."

She turned her head fully to face me, biting her lip, eyes glinting.

"Do you want that? Want to watch me get fucked by a bigger cock?"

I nodded - couldn't speak. Just stroked myself harder, my cock slick in my hand, my body straining to stay still.

She moaned louder now, hips bucking.

"You'd sit there," she panted, "stroking that cute, hard cock of yours while he made me scream. While I begged him to fuck me harder. While I begged *you* not to stop watching, to not take your eyes off it."

She was close. I could hear it in her voice - the hitch in her breath, the growing tremble in her thighs.

"I'd still want you after," she whispered. "I'd still want to taste you. Feel you inside me too. But first... I'd fuck him."

Her moan turned to a cry as the orgasm took her - sudden, full-body, her thighs clenching, back arching as the dildo slid deep one last time. She gasped, loud and beautiful, her fingers shaking as they stilled.

And I just watched. Stroked. Burned.

Then she looked up, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

"Now," she said, voice breathless but clear. "I want *your* cock. In my mouth."

Part Nine: Between Two Cocks

Lucie was still sprawled across the bed, breath shallow, chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her thighs were glistening, trembling slightly, the glass dildo still buried deep inside her - unmoving now, but unmistakably there.

She turned her head toward me, her lips parted, flushed and glowing. I could see the shimmer of sweat at her hairline, the dazed gleam in her eyes. But behind the softness, that same spark still flickered.

She held out a hand. Not urgent - just certain.

"Come here," she murmured, voice thick and slow. "Let me take care of you."

I rose and moved closer, still stroking myself, my cock heavy and slick. As I approached, she sat up slightly, propping herself against the pillows, her legs still open, the toy still deep. I knelt on the bed beside her and watched as her eyes travelled down, hungry and possessive.

She wrapped her hand around my shaft, stroking once, then again, her grip gentle but sure. Then she leaned in and let her tongue flick across the tip - tasting the precum already gathered there.

"God, you're hard," she whispered.

"Couldn't help it," I said, voice low. "Watching you fuck yourself... knowing that toy's still inside you..."

She moaned at that - a soft, involuntary sound - and took me into her mouth.

It started slow. Wet and warm, her lips wrapping around me, her tongue swirling along the underside as she sucked. Her hand stroking from the base. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, and I could feel the weight of everything she wasn't saying - that this was part of the game now. That *he* was still inside her. That *I* was in her mouth. That she was between two cocks, two sensations, two men - real or not.

And then I took over.

I placed a hand behind her head, not forceful, just firm - guiding her rhythm, pulling her in deeper. She let me, relaxed into it, her mouth opening wider to take more of me. I started to thrust gently, my hips rolling forward, slow and controlled.

Her lips tightened around me, cheeks hollowing as I slid deeper into her mouth.

"Just like that," I groaned. "Fuck, Lucie... just like that."

She reached between her legs again, fingers grazing the base of the toy still inside her, pushing it in deeper as I filled her mouth.

"You're still being fucked," I said, my voice darker now. "Look at you. Stuffed full. One cock in your pussy. One in your mouth."

Her moan vibrated around me, and I felt her body react - hips shifting, legs trembling again, the toy sliding with each subtle movement of her hand.

"You love it, don't you?" I murmured. "Being filled. Used. Watched."

She moaned again, deeper this time, her mouth taking me all the way in. I could feel her throat tighten around the head of my cock - wet, hot, perfect.

I held her there for a beat - not too long - then pulled back, letting her breathe.

She gasped slightly, spit on her chin, eyes glazed and wild.

"Fuck me," she whispered, voice ragged. "Fuck me while he's still inside me."

And there it was - the line you'd waited for.

The moment when the fantasy wasn't just hers, or mine, but ours together.

Part Ten: Deep and Deeper

Lucie's hand curled around the base of my cock as she caught her breath, her lips still slick from the stretch of me. Her chest rose and fell with a slow urgency, and when she looked up at me again, the gleam in her eyes was unmistakable.

"Let me taste you properly," she whispered, and then took me back into her mouth.

She was slower now - not lazy, just deliberate - tongue flattening under the shaft, then curling up and around as she drew back. Her hand twisted gently at the base, the other trailing across my thigh. Each time she pulled away, I felt the drag of her lips, the subtle scrape of her teeth, the warm spill of her breath.

And then - she paused. Her tongue flicked across the tip, teasing the bead of precum that had gathered there.

"Mmm," she murmured, eyes on mine. "You're already leaking for me."

I groaned, deep and low, and threaded my fingers into her hair.

She kept going - licking, sucking, tasting - her rhythm steady, her mouth warm and slick and perfect. I began to move my hips slightly, meeting her movements, letting the sensation build. Every time she took me deeper, I felt her throat flutter. Every time she moaned around me, it vibrated through my whole body.

But my eyes kept drifting back - to the glass toy still buried between her legs. Still inside her. Still glistening with everything she'd just given to it.

I couldn't take it anymore.

"Lie back," I said softly, my voice firmer now.

She released me from her mouth with a wet pop and did exactly that, sinking back into the pillows, legs already parted, chest rising, nipples peaked and flushed. She looked down at herself - toy still in place, slick and full - then looked back at me.

"You're going to fuck me with it still inside, aren't you?"

I didn't answer.

I just moved between her legs, one hand wrapping around my cock, the other gently pressing the toy a little deeper inside her. She gasped.

"God," she whispered. "Yes..."

I lined myself up beside it - careful, slow, but deliberate. Her pussy was already stretched, already soaking, already *waiting*. I pressed the head of my cock against her, and the moment she felt the pressure, she moaned louder, thighs twitching.

"Go slow," she murmured. "I want to feel both of you."

I did.

The sensation was overwhelming - for both of us. My cock slid in beside the glass, her walls tight and pulsing, gripping around us both. She cried out as the stretch took hold - not in pain, but in fullness, in *too much* and *just enough* at once.

I groaned as I pushed deeper, her slickness wrapping around me, the ridges of the toy pressing against me through her body.

"You're so fucking full," I breathed. "You're taking both of us."

She nodded, breathless. "I feel it... I feel *everything*..."

I moved slowly, my hips rocking, letting her adjust, letting myself adjust. The heat of her, the pressure, the tightness - it was unreal. Her hand drifted to her clit again, fingers circling while I thrust in shallow waves, the toy staying firm and unmoving inside her.

After a few strokes, she gasped again, louder this time.

"Fuck," she panted. "I want you both... I want to be filled like this..."

I leaned down and kissed her, hard - her tongue finding mine, her hands clutching my back. Our bodies rocked together, her legs wrapping around my waist as we moved. The sound of us filled the room - wet, rhythmic, desperate.

Then I pulled back slightly, slowly sliding the toy out. She gasped at the loss, but didn't stop touching herself - just kept working her clit as I pressed the toy to her lips.

Her eyes widened. But she opened her mouth.

"Good girl," I murmured, and she took it in - slowly, teasingly, sucking the toy that had just been inside her. Her eyes never left mine.

Now it was just *me* inside her. And it was my turn to fuck her completely.

Part Eleven: All the Ways

Her lips wrapped around the toy, eyes half-closed as she sucked slowly, tasting herself with an unspoken kind of pleasure. I watched, breath caught in my throat, then murmured - soft and low:

"Do you like how you taste?"

She didn't answer straight away. Just licked the tip, slow and deliberate. Then she met my eyes.

"I love it," she whispered.

The words landed heavy in my chest - not because they were filthy, but because of how *easy* they were. How certain. How honest.

I took the toy from her gently and set it aside. My cock was already hard, slick, pulsing with need. And now - it was just us.

I slid back between her legs and pressed into her slowly, watching her open for me, her body still so wet and ready. We both moaned as I filled her again, and this time there was no toy, no third body - just us. Skin to skin. Breath to breath.

I leaned forward, settling fully into her, letting our bodies align. Her legs curled around my waist, her hands at the back of my neck. I rocked into her slowly, deeply, watching her face with every thrust.

"This is how I want you," I whispered.

She nodded, eyes closing, mouth parted. "Don't stop..."

We stayed like that - missionary, simple, perfect - for long, aching moments. My hips rolled in slow waves, her body rising to meet each one. I kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts -sucking her nipples, letting my teeth graze them just enough to make her gasp.

Then she shifted beneath me, breathless but certain.

"Let me ride you."

I pulled out and lay back without a word. She straddled me, her movements fluid, confident. She lowered herself onto my cock and gasped, her head falling back as I filled her again. Her hands rested on my chest, her hips circling in slow, grinding rolls.

She was stunning like this - hair loose, breasts bouncing gently with each movement, her thighs strong and slick with our arousal. I let my hands roam over her hips, her belly, her breasts. I reached up to touch her clit, but she caught my hand and placed it back on her waist.

"I've got that," she murmured. "Just feel me."

And I did.

I watched her move, lifting and lowering, each stroke drawing a deeper moan from her. Her control was hypnotic - slow, purposeful, every movement made for *her* and for *me*.

She leaned forward to kiss me, then whispered into my ear:

"Get behind me."

We moved easily, wordlessly, the air between us thick with heat. She knelt on the bed, ass raised, legs spread. I moved behind her, taking a moment to admire the view - her glistening folds, her arched back, the red marks still blooming on her thighs.

I knelt at first, pushing into her from behind with a deep, groaning thrust. Her moan echoed mine. But then I rose, feet on the floor, her body at the edge of the bed - the new angle letting me sink even deeper. I gripped her hips and pulled her onto me, each thrust met with a soft cry.

Then I glanced up - and caught our reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

"Lucie," I said, breathless. "Look."

She lifted her head, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of us. My cock disappearing into her. Her tits bouncing with every thrust. Her mouth open, moaning. My hands gripping her hips like I'd never let go.

"Fuck," she whispered. "That's so hot..."

I reached forward, wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her up into a kneeling position -her back against my chest, my cock still inside her. One hand on her breast. The other on her clit.

I thrust again. Slower now. Deeper.

We watched ourselves in the mirror. Watched our rhythm. Watched our bodies.

Then I turned her head and kissed her. Deep. Wet. Wanting.

And when she whispered, "Let's lie down..." I knew exactly what she wanted next.

Part Thirteen: Inside, and After

The air between us was thick - the rhythm now slow, heavy, deliberate. My cock moved deep inside her in long, aching thrusts, spooned together on the bed. Her hand stayed between her thighs, fingers teasing where we joined, circling herself slowly as I filled her over and over again.

I kissed the back of her neck, the slope of her shoulder. I could feel the tension building in my thighs, in my chest - the edge coming, steady and hard.

"I'm close," I murmured, voice catching.

She turned her head just enough for our lips to meet - soft, wet, connected.

"Don't pull out," she whispered. "I want you to finish inside me."

"Yeah?" I asked, my voice barely there.

She nodded. "I want to feel it. All of it. You, staying in me."

Something cracked open at those words. Not wild. Not rushed. Just raw, and real, and full of everything we hadn't let ourselves have before.

I gripped her hips and started to move again - deeper now, every thrust slower, more intense.

And Lucie... she let go.

Her hips rolled back against me. Her breathing sharpened. She moaned louder, fingers working faster. I held her tighter, our bodies locked together, the pressure building.

And then - I came.

It hit hard - hips pressed deep into her, my cock pulsing, twitching, spilling everything into her warmth. I groaned into her neck as the waves rolled through me, as she kept moving, milking me with her body, her fingers still teasing herself toward the edge.

The feeling of it - of staying inside, of knowing I was *still* inside as she worked herself toward the finish - made me harder than I'd ever expected.

Lucie gasped - high and sudden - and then came again. A softer orgasm this time, but no less real. Her whole body trembled, and I felt her grip me tight from the inside as my cum spread within her.

We lay like that for a moment, bodies tangled, heat radiating between us.

Then slowly, she shifted - not away from me, but just enough to guide me gently out. I could feel the wetness - mine and hers - start to slip from her, down her thigh.

She looked back at me over her shoulder, lips parted, eyes still dark with something unspoken.

I ran a hand down to where I'd just been, gently spreading her folds, watching as my cum began to slide out, thick and slow.

Lucie didn't flinch. Didn't hide.

She watched me watch her.

"You like seeing it, don't you?" she said softly.

I nodded, unable to speak.

She rolled onto her back then, legs still parted, the warm slickness pooling just slightly beneath her. One hand drifted down, fingers skimming her entrance.

"I can still feel you inside me," she whispered. "Still feel how full I am."

My breath caught.

She lifted two fingers to her lips, tasting.

Then smiled.

"Can you imagine... if it wasn't just yours?"

She didn't push it. Didn't go further.

Just let the words hang there - soft, suggestive, and open.

A thought. A maybe. A *someday*.

And then, her hand reached for mine. Pulled me down beside her.

"Hold me."

So I did.

And for once, there was nothing else but us.

Epilogue: Seen

The room had fallen quiet now - just the rustle of the sheets, the faint tick of something in the hall. We lay together, warm and worn out, bodies soft with the kind of ache that doesn't ask to be eased.

Lucie was curled into me, her thighs still sticky where I'd been, her fingers tracing thoughtless lines across my chest. I didn't say anything. Didn't want to pull her out of wherever her mind had gone.

Then, softly:

"Do you ever think about... being watched?"

I didn't react. Not straight away. Just let the question settle.

"Sometimes," I said, just as quietly. "You?"

She nodded against my skin. "Not in a showy way. Just... the idea of it. Of being seen. Of someone else noticing. Wanting."

I felt something shift under my ribs - not lust exactly, but that hum of shared knowing. That spark when something unsaid becomes real.

"We've talked about watching others before," I said.

She made a soft, thoughtful sound. "I wonder how that would feel... to watch. To be watched. Not to *do* anything. Just to know someone was looking. And knowing we were watching them."

We let the silence return then - not because there was nothing else to say, but because the thought was enough.

Later, I'd think about the way she'd moved. The way we'd moved together. The way she'd looked in the mirror with my cock inside her, wet and full and open.

And I'd think: *Who wouldn't want to watch that?*

But for now, I just kissed her hair. Held her a little closer.

And let the idea flicker quietly between us - not urgent. Not finished.

Just there.

Waiting.