Amanda Ch. 03

The minute she'd sucked him in, I'd had to release my strangle-hold on my cock. One slight motion, one more second of stimulation, would have done me in. I sat back on my ankles, my heart pounding, my breath coming in little short gasps, my hard-on leaping, and watched.

"Oh, god, Sherry. Do that again. Please do that again," Lawrence croaked. But now both of her hands were on his hips and she was forcing him to his knees. When she had him where she wanted him, Sherry leaned back onto her elbows.

"I'll do that again any time you want me to, Lawrence." She draped her legs around his back and drew him to her. "Right now I need you in me. I can't wait any longer."

Somewhere in those last few seconds, Lawrence had undergone a transformation. Suddenly he was no longer the unwilling victim. He looked down at his prick dancing between Sherry's thighs, and then back up at her, spread over the chaise, her arms behind her head, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling with every breath.

"What is it you can't wait for any longer, Sherry?" He lifted her knees until they were pressed into her breasts. I had a perfect view of her round ass straining up at him, twitching as his cock touched her.

"Uuungghh. Do it. God damn it, Lawrence, do it."

"You said that before. Earlier. And you asked me a question. Would I?" The moon shone on Sherry's pussy, wide open, lips spread and seemingly reaching for Lawrence's cock. Her butt was bouncing on the chaise. "What do you think? Would I?"

"You bastard. You know you would. You know you're going to. Just do it."

That was the end of my self-control. My right hand raced over me as Lawrence leaned into my wife. The head of his cock passed her lips, and Sherry grunted. Then he buried himself in her, inch by inch.

Lawrence let out a long, shuddering breath, and Sherry bucked. A low, continuous moan escaped her lips a Lawrence began his slow rocking. I didn't know how long they could keep this up, but I was past caring. My cock felt like a bar of steel in my hand, glowing hotter with every stroke.

And then I was coming. I painted the leaves around me with each burst. A deep cry lodged in my throat, but I fought it down. My spine wanted to tear itself out of my body. At last my hand stopped its automatic movement, and I rocked back and forth on my haunches, savoring every dying convulsion, every last tremor.

I looked through the hedge at Lawrence and Sherry. He was bent over her, his back heaving and his lips locked to her neck. Her eyes were closed, all her muscles slack, as if she'd finally found a perfect moment of peace.

I came to my senses. I realized I'd never planned an escape, and I shuffled back on my knees and hands. Shit. I was covered in dirt and rotting leaves. I brushed myself off and headed back indoors. Maybe she'd think the brown marks on the sheets had come from her. Maybe she'd believe the thick viscous gobs that clung to her after she made her way back through the hedge were...

2:02am, the clock showed. No way. No possible way all that had taken place in an hour. It must have been a dream. I pulled the sheet around me and fell asleep.