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She was completely unaware, or so it seemed, of the irony of her questions, of the man sitting behind her in the living room who was fucking me behind her back.

This time, she didn't leave. Instead, she busied herself about the house, humming softly as she tidied magazines, rearranged flowers. And I had to sit there with Hudson, sharing my latest workout routine, pretending to want some more pointers. Just two months ago, I was actually getting genuine guidance from him and had been happy to do so, eager to please. But obviously, things had changed. That's not what I wanted to talk about. The small talk felt hollow, an excruciating performance for Amy's benefit, while a silent tension hummed between Hudson and me. He offered polite, surface-level encouragement, his eyes occasionally flicking to mine with an unreadable expression.

When I finally left their home, I had to fight to hold back the tears. It was a physical battle, my throat tight, my eyes burning. Again, I tried not to spiral, to convince myself that everything was fine, that his distance was just a temporary side effect of Amy's presence. But it was hard. It was overwhelming to be alone with my feelings, unable to even talk to him about what was going on, or if I had done something wrong, if my jealousy had ruined everything.

The following Tuesday, I feared he would cancel again. My phone sat heavy in my hand all morning, each vibration a potential disappointment. But the text never came. When he didn't cancel, a cautious optimism flickered within me. I dressed carefully, choosing a pretty, conservative dress, and walked to his house, my steps lighter than they had been on Sunday.

When he greeted me, something seemed different. He was courteous and sweet, just like before, but in some ways, he seemed to be going through the motions. His eyes didn't hold the same intense spark, the same raw desire I'd grown accustomed to. I didn't bring up the last time that we'd fucked, didn't mention the master bedroom, or the unprotected sex. I was too panicked about making things worse, about pushing him further away. I just wanted things to go back to how they were.

He led me to the guest room, and we had sex. This time, he used a condom again, a silent, almost clinical reintroduction of the barrier we'd previously discarded. He didn't mention what had happened before, didn't bring up his anger, his words, or that he'd cum inside me. He was kind and sweet after, holding me, stroking my hair, but he also seemed more distant, his thoughts miles away.

Things went on like this for the next month. Our secret rendezvous became unpredictable, punctuated by uncertainty. Sometimes he'd cancel last minute, a brief, impersonal text message the only explanation. Sometimes Amy would be there, her unsuspecting presence a constant chaperone, and nothing would happen beyond strained small talk. And sometimes, we'd go to the guest room and have sex, a shadow of the passionate encounters we'd once shared. I tried, tentatively, to ask if anything was wrong, if something had changed between us, but I felt too insecure and inexperienced when it came to relationships. I couldn't get him to engage in a real conversation. He just politely said nothing had changed, that everything was fine, and then he'd kiss me, be sweet for a bit, but the emotional distance would gradually return, a subtle, painful barrier between us.

Instead of going home with mixed feelings of guilt and exhilarating enthusiasm, I usually felt sad when I left, a heavy ache in my chest. I was desperate for things to go back to the way they were, to the intimacy and connection we'd had. I didn't know how to fix things, and in my desperation, I assumed it was all my fault for my jealousy about his wife.

It was after one of these canceled Tuesday rendezvous that everything changed. I had stayed home Wednesday morning, missing my early university classes, my head heavy with thoughts of Hudson. I was sad, stressed about the emotional distance growing between us, and the uncertainty of it all. When I finally left the house, later than usual, I saw a young woman standing on his doorstep. She was older than me, perhaps in her early twenties, and dressed for work, her clothes sleek and professional. She had a voluptuous figure, much like mine and Amy's, a clear hourglass shape, but she carried it with an air of sophisticated confidence.

As I watched, unnoticed from my car, Hudson opened his front door, a warm smile on his face. He ushered the woman inside, his hand lightly on her back. My breath hitched. He had never smiled at me like that in public. I immediately spiraled. The insidious thoughts I'd tried to dismiss now rushed forward, raw and undeniable. I was one of many. I had been replaced.

I couldn't go to school. I couldn't stop crying. I sat there in my car, parked in front of my parents' home, watching Hudson's front door through a blur of tears. The woman was in there for at least an hour, a lifetime measured in my agonizing anticipation. After she left, I waited for her to drive off, for her car to disappear down the street. Overwhelmed with a fresh wave of anger, not thinking rationally, I knew I had to confront him.

I stormed out of my car, across the lawn, and to his front door, pounding on it with a desperate fury. He opened it, looking surprised to see me, but his expression quickly settled into its familiar cool composure. He was also fully dressed, wearing a pressed shirt and jeans, making me doubt my thoughts about what might have happened. Still, the image of him smiling at her, ushering her in, fueled my rage.

"I need to come inside and talk to you," I declared, my voice trembling but firm, pushing past him into the foyer.

Once we reached the living room, I turned to him, my eyes blazing, tears starting to stream down my face again. "I saw her!" I accused, my voice cracking. "That woman! Who was that? What's going on, Hudson? Am I just being used, or have I been replaced?!"

He kept his cool, his gaze steady. "Beatrice," he said, his voice calm, "were you spying on me?"

"No!" I cried, shaking my head violently. "It was an accident! I was leaving late, and that's how I saw you greeting... that slut!" The word felt ugly on my tongue, but the raw emotion behind it felt righteous.

He laughed, a short, sharp sound, as if I was being ridiculous, a childish outburst. "Beatrice," he began, his voice losing its edge, becoming patiently explanatory, "I wasn't feeling well yesterday. That's why I canceled on you. I'm working from home today, which is unusual for a Wednesday, because I couldn't go into the office. That was Lana, a coworker, a subordinate of mine. She graciously offered to drop by and bring some files I needed. While she was here, we went over some projects she's working on."

I didn't know what to think. It all seemed so plausible, so logical, and he was being so nonchalant, so reasonable. The anger, which had burned so fiercely, began to sputter and die, leaving behind a cold, empty ache. Once I calmed down, my tears subsiding into quiet sniffles, he continued.

"I'd offer to spend the afternoon with you, Bea," he said, his voice gentle now, a soft apology in his tone, "but I really have work to catch up on. Plus, I'm still feeling a bit ill, and I don't want to get you sick."

Then, as if it had suddenly dawned on him, he mentioned, "You know, I'm traveling out of town tomorrow for work. I have meetings all afternoon, and I'll be staying the night in a hotel before more meetings on Friday." He paused, his gaze softening, a hint of something familiar returning to his eyes. "You could join me."

My breath hitched. My heart, which had been heavy with disappointment, gave a sudden, joyous leap. "He wants me!" The unspoken words sang in my head.

He made it clear he understood if I couldn't, since it was very last minute and I'd have to come up with something to tell my parents. "But it would be fun if you made it," he added, a charming smile playing on his lips. "We'd have a hotel room to ourselves all night long, and we could spend a nice, romantic evening together without interruption, if you wanted."

I was immediately overwhelmed, but also overjoyed. A secret getaway! A chance to reconnect, to remind him of what we had, away from Amy's presence and the confines of his house. "Yes!" I practically whispered, my voice thick with excitement. "Yes, Hudson! I'll tell my parents I'm staying overnight with a friend to cram for a test. They won't suspect a thing!"

I left his house then, my steps light, my heart soaring, excited for our night together. The next morning, my phone buzzed with a text from Hudson. It was the address of a hotel, along with a message: "Done with meetings by 5. See you then?" It was about a three-hour drive. My heart fluttered with a mix of nerves and exhilaration.

I spent the rest of the day in a flurry of activity, packing an overnight bag with a carefully chosen outfit for the evening. I included a simple, white cotton chemise, the closest thing I had to a sexy nightgown, feeling a blush creep up my neck as I folded it. I planned to arrive at 6, giving him an hour to decompress after his meetings. When the time came, I put on a charcoal pencil skirt and a white silk button-down blouse, an outfit I'd originally gotten to look professional when presenting at school. I figured it would fit in best with the upscale business travelers at the hotel.

The drive was a mix of nervous anticipation and forced distraction. I tried hard not to think about the implications of what I was doing, or what this secret rendezvous truly meant for me, for him, for Amy. I just wanted to focus on enjoying the excitement, on the thrill of the forbidden. I kept my mood up by singing along to Taylor Swift songs streamed through my phone, her familiar lyrics a comforting anchor in the sea of my chaotic emotions.

When I arrived, the hotel was indeed urban and upscale, a gleaming tower of glass and steel. I texted him, and moments later, his room number appeared on my screen. He was on a high floor, I noted as the elevator whisked me upwards. I took a deep breath, telling myself to be confident.

The elevator doors opened, and I found his room, knocking softly. He opened the door, his face breaking into a warm, genuine smile that eased some of my apprehension. "Bea," he said, his voice a low, welcoming rumble. He took my small overnight bag, placing it in the closet with a casual ease. The room was a mini-suite, with a separate sitting area, a bedroom, and a luxurious bathroom. It felt grand, expansive, a perfect backdrop for our secret.

He moved to the minibar, pouring us both drinks. I watched, a little nervous. I'd never really consumed alcohol, beyond a taste or two at family gatherings. He handed me a glass, and I took a tentative sip. It was surprisingly smooth, a sweet warmth spreading through me. We settled onto the plush sofa in the sitting area, the city lights twinkling outside the large window.

He turned to me, his gaze serious. "Bea," he began, his voice soft, "do you trust me?"

I fidgeted with my glass, my heart giving a nervous thump. "Yes," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I do."

A slow smile spread across his face, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Good," he murmured. "Because I've planned something spicy for tonight. Something a little different." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "I could cancel it, Bea. Right now. But I really want you to trust me. Just go with it, okay? Have an open mind."

A knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. Spicy? Different? The last "different" encounter had ended with him fucking me raw and cumming inside me. "I don't know, Hudson," I said, my voice faltering. "What do you mean?"

He maintained a pleasant, warm tone, his hand gently covering mine on the sofa. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Bea, you know that." His thumb stroked my knuckles, a comforting gesture that belied the tension in his words. "It's just that I think we both realize things have gotten a little stale. And I don't want it to keep going in that direction." He was so calm, so persuasive, subtly manipulating me to agree without overtly demanding anything. He made it sound like boredom, like change was mandatory. He was playing on my recent insecurities, on my desperate desire to fix things between us.

Finally, a reluctant sigh escaped me. "Okay," I said, the word a small surrender. "Okay, Hudson. I'll have an open mind."

His smile widened, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "That's my girl," he said, squeezing my hand gently. "You won't regret it. I promise you a good time." He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door. Hudson stood up, giving me a reassuring smile before opening it. "Alex," he greeted, stepping aside.

A light-skinned, African American man walked in, well-dressed in a dark suit, traditionally handsome, with a clean-shaven jaw and short hair. He wasn't as rugged as Hudson, but he had a confident, almost predatory air. They were about the same age, I noticed. Alex's eyes immediately found me, and he made no attempt to be discreet as he eyed me up and down, his gaze lingering on my breasts and hips. A slow, approving nod settled on his face.

Hudson stepped back, gesturing to Alex. "Beatrice, this is Alex, a colleague of mine. Alex, this is Beatrice." He turned to me, his arm resting lightly on my shoulder. "You know, Bea," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "two guys at once is a common fantasy for a lot of women. And I wanted to make that happen for you tonight. Because I'm not the jealous type. I want you to experience the complete bliss of two men aching for you."

My mind reeled. Two men? A sudden, dizzying wave of shock and disbelief washed over me. This wasn't what I'd imagined. This was something else entirely. My voice felt stuck in my throat. "Okay," I managed to croak, the single word a weak, inadequate response.

Hudson smiled, seemingly unfazed by my stunned reaction. "Alex, why don't you take a seat?" he suggested. Alex moved to an armchair, his eyes still fixed on me with an intense, assessing gaze. Hudson then turned back to me, his smile warm, his voice persuasive. "Now, Bea, darling. Do you want to show Alex just how sexy you are?"

My cheeks flushed, a deep, hot wave of embarrassment and a strange, thrilling excitement. I could only nod, my throat too tight for words.

"Good," Hudson said, his smile spreading. "Stand up for me, Bea."

I slowly rose from the sofa, my legs feeling a little unsteady. He walked over to a small speaker on the counter and turned on some music. It was smooth R&B, a low, seductive beat filling the spacious suite. "Now," he said, turning back to me, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, "undress for us, Bea. Do it slowly. Let us see every beautiful inch of you."

I felt tears sting my eyes. This wasn't what I'd imagined at all. My romantic evening, the quiet conversation, the gentle making love in his arms... it was all dissolving into this shocking, public display. But I also wanted to be good for Hudson. I feared that if I left now, if I refused, everything would end. The precarious connection we'd salvaged would shatter, and I'd be left alone with my escalating, complicated feelings.

With a deep, shaky breath, I started to move my hips, swaying gently to the slow, sensual rhythm of the music. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to imagine myself as someone else, someone confident and alluring, trying to be sexy. My fingers went to the buttons of my nice white silk blouse. Slowly, deliberately, I unbuttoned it, revealing my simple white satin bra underneath, stretched taut over my big tits.

"Beautiful, Bea," Hudson murmured, his voice a low appreciation.

"Damn, Hudson, you weren't kidding," Alex added, his voice more crass, more openly admiring. "She's got some curves."

My cheeks flushed even hotter at Alex's words, but a strange warmth, a thrill, shot through me. Two men, ogling me. It felt wrong, but also undeniably hot.

"Take off your skirt, Bea," Hudson instructed, his voice a soft command.

Still swaying, I complied, my hands moving to the waistband of my pencil skirt. I unzipped it, let it fall, and stepped out of it. Now I stood before them in just my heels and my bra and matching panties, my toned thighs and firm ass clearly visible. I felt ashamed, like I should be covering myself, but the heat in my core, fueled by their hungry gazes, was growing.

"Look at those legs!" Alex exclaimed, his voice thick with admiration. "And that ass, man. So round."

Their continued praise, a steady stream of compliments, seemed to wash away my remaining inhibitions. Maybe it was the alcohol, a subtle loosening of my ingrained modesty. My confidence, already bolstered by my fitness journey, swelled. I moved with the slow, sensual rhythm of the R&B, my body swaying, my hips gently grinding almost imperceptibly.

Without being told, my hand went to the clasp of my pretty satin bra. With a small click, it unhooked, and I peeled the straps off my shoulders, tossing it carelessly aside. My boobs, no longer confined, spilled forth, their pink nipples already hard and peaked. The men groaned, appreciating the sight. Alex was very vocal, a low, continuous stream of appreciative sounds escaping his lips.

Finally, with a new surge of boldness, I shed my white satin panties, pushing them down my legs and letting them fall to the floor, exposing my freshly shaved muff and toned ass. I stood there, completely naked, embracing the part of the coquette that I'd only ever seen in movies. I looked at both men, but my gaze, deliberate and steady, landed solely on Hudson. My eyes held his, making it clear who had my attention.

"Did I do a good job, Hudson?" I asked, my voice a soft, breathless whisper, tinged with a new, seductive confidence. "Was I sexy enough for you? Do you think your friend likes my body?"

Internally, I knew everything I was doing, everything I was saying, was completely out of character for the pious, timid girl I'd always been. But I didn't want to stop. Hudson was looking at me with more raw lust than he had in weeks, his eyes devouring me, and the other man, Alex, was openly massaging the growing bulge in his slacks, his face flushed with desire. I had their full, undivided attention, and it felt intoxicating.

"Damn, Bea," Alex breathed, his eyes fixed on my lower body. "That's a pretty pink pussy you got there."

Hudson nodded, his gaze following Alex's, a possessive smile on his face. "Indeed it is," he confirmed, his voice a low, pleased rumble. Then, he turned his sharp gaze to Alex. "But don't get any ideas, Alex. That pussy belongs to me." The declaration, so blunt, so possessive, sent a strange thrill through me. It hadn't even crossed my mind that Alex might want to fuck me, but hearing Hudson make it so crystal clear that it wasn't an option, that I was his, made me feel special. I was vaguely aware that I was being objectified, claimed like property, but in that moment, I didn't care. I just wanted to please Hudson, to remain open-minded, and to focus on the fun.

Alex chuckled, his eyes still on me. "No bother, man," he said, shrugging. "I bet she's a good little cocksucker too. She's obviously a sexy little minx. I can tell she's got a lot of experience and takes pride in it." His words were crass, yet held an undeniable admiration that further stoked my burgeoning confidence. I was amused that Hudson didn't correct him about my limited experience, and I didn't try to either. Why spoil the illusion?

Alex, with an eager glint in his eyes, quickly undid his belt and slacks. He pulled out his cock. It was large, I noted, but not as girthy or intimidating as Hudson's. And it was uncut, something I had never seen before, its head peeking out from beneath a fold of skin. "Come on, Bea," Alex said, his voice a little shaky with anticipation, "come show me what you can do."

Hudson's arm settled around my bare waist, pulling me gently but firmly closer to Alex. "Go on, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice warm and coaxing. "Show him what a good girl you are. Show him you can suck another man's cock for me." A fleeting thought, sharp as a needle, pierced through my haze of arousal: Would he ever degrade his wife like that, by asking her to service another man? But I pushed down any negative feelings, burying the thought deep. I was determined to please Hudson, to go along with his game.

I approached Alex with feigned confidence, a slight sway to my hips. I knew how to please Hudson, I knew I was good at it, so I just applied what I'd learned. I couldn't play the part of a sexy slut who just wanted to be bad, but I was good at being an attentive, obedient good girl.

I knelt before Alex, my eyes meeting his for a moment before dropping to his eager cock. Slowly, deliberately, I leaned in, my mouth opening, taking him in. He groaned softly, his fingers tangling in my hair, pulling gently to guide me deeper. I began to suck him, my tongue swirling around the head, my lips firm and practiced. Hudson watched, a satisfied smirk on his face, occasionally offering praise. Alex, meanwhile, moaned and encouraged me, sometimes being crass and telling me to "suck that dick," while Hudson's compliments were kinder, more complimentary, calling me a "good girl," a "sweetheart." I expertly applied everything I'd learned from Hudson, using my tongue and lips, my slow, measured strokes, to bring Alex to the brink without letting him cum. The heat radiating from him was intense, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

I noticed Hudson, from the corner of my eye. He had taken his own cock out of his slacks, and he was stroking it, his eyes fixed on me. He was turned on, looking at me with intense lust, and perhaps, I dared to hope, a bit of possessiveness and even jealousy. The subtle flicker of that emotion, usually something I fought against, now felt like a vindication, a sign that I still had power over him.

"Alright, Bea," Hudson said, his voice a little rough, cutting through Alex's moans. "Let's move the party to the bedroom, shall we?"

I released Alex's cock with a final, wet pop, letting his heavy shaft slide from my mouth. Alex groaned, a sound of frustration and desperate pleasure. I swallowed, my mouth still warm and tingling, and looked at Hudson, my heart pounding.

Hudson led the way into the bedroom, the subtle R&B music from the sitting area now a distant, muffled beat. Alex followed close behind, his eyes still fixed on me. The bedroom was spacious, adorned in muted tones, a king-sized bed dominating the center. As we stepped fully into the room, both men began to undress. Hudson shed his clothes, revealing his rugged, hairy dad bod - broad shoulders, a slight curve to his belly, and dark hair on his chest and legs. Alex, by contrast, was all lean muscle, sleek and hairless, a different kind of masculine appeal. His body was sculpted, almost clinical in its perfection.

"Get on the bed, baby," Hudson murmured, his voice warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the harsh commands he'd given me last time he'd fucked me from behind. That day, he hadn't used a condom, and a quick glance at his already throbbing erection confirmed he wasn't bothering with one now either. The implication was clear, and a shiver of nervous anticipation, mixed with a deep thrill, ran through me. I moved to the edge of the large bed, positioning myself on my hands and knees, my ass raised and presented to him, a silent invitation.

Alex stood nearby, watching, his cock still glistening with my saliva from moments before. Hudson moved to the foot of the bed, his dark eyes intense. With an ease that both shocked and aroused me, he took his hard dick and slid it into my very wet cunt. I gasped, a mixture of pleasure and the familiar, overwhelming fullness.

"You like that, baby, don't you?" he rumbled, his voice low and guttural as he pushed deeper. "You like my big dick in that pussy, don't you? You know it belongs to me." His possessiveness, the declaration that my most intimate part was his, thrilled me in ways I never considered before. A powerful moan escaped my lips as he began to fuck me briskly, his powerful thrusts causing my breasts to swing with each impact. The rhythmic sound of flesh slapping filled the room, punctuated by his masculine grunts and my increasingly passionate moans.

At first, Alex just watched, his hand stroking his own dick. Then, with a quick movement, he climbed onto the bed, kneeling in front of my face. He took his still-swollen cock and gently slapped it against my lips as I continued to moan, getting powerfully railed from behind. "Suck on this big dick, you slut," he commanded, his voice rough. And I did it. Without questioning. My mind was a blank slate, devoid of conscious thought. I could only focus on the overwhelming pleasure, and how strange it was to be used by two men at once, and how, in that moment, I actually liked it.

I did my best to give a competent blowjob while simultaneously being fucked from behind. My left hand wrapped around the base of Alex's dick and started pumping it, while my tongue worked the head, licking and sucking. Alex moaned, a low rumble of pleasure, and encouraged me, unafraid to use degrading terms. "That's it, you little whore. Suck that dick good." Meanwhile, Hudson pounded me from behind, his rhythm relentless, his voice a constant stream of encouragement. "Rub your clit, Bea! Go on, sweetheart, rub that pussy for me." My right hand, following his instruction, moved down between my legs, finding my now throbbing clitoris and began to rub it frantically. I rested my weight on my left elbow, my head bobbing with Alex's cock, my body a whirlwind of motion. It was the sloppiest blowjob I had ever given, my focus fragmented between the intense sensations. But Alex didn't seem to mind. He just encouraged me, degraded me, and then whispered, "I'm gonna cum on your face, dirty little slut."

Hudson, sensing my building climax, sped up his pussy pounding. "Feel good, Bea," he urged, his voice rough with his own desire. "Cum for me, baby. You're a good girl, you're so sexy, you're doing such a good job." He leaned closer, his chest pressing against my back, his dick slamming deep inside me with each furious thrust. My hips bucked involuntarily desperate for more. The combined sensations were overwhelming, my senses overloaded. Alex's cock, still in my hand and mouth, pulsed frantically, his groans matching Hudson's. My clit was a burning ember, my pussy stretched to its limit.

I started to wail out, a raw, uncontrolled sound tearing from my throat as my orgasm approached, a relentless, all-consuming wave. Alex, hearing my cry, pulled his dick from my mouth, his hand now stroking it frantically, his eyes wide with a pleasure that mirrored mine. I came, a shattering, violent climax that left me breathless and trembling, my body convulsing against Hudson's powerful thrusts. Alex groaned, then released his cum all over me, his head snapping back as he emptied himself. As my own pleasure began to subside, a warm, thick spray splattered across my face and forehead. At the same moment, Hudson sped up his pussy pounding, his own groans growing louder, more desperate. With a final, explosive series of thrusts, and a deep masculine grunt, he pulled out at the last second, blowing his load on my plump, firm ass cheeks. His hot, sticky cum coated my bottom, dripping down my outer thighs.

Moments later, the three of us lay there on the bed, tangled and spent. I was in the middle, my body aching but pulsing with a strange, exhilarating satisfaction. My face, my thighs, my ass - all covered in their cum. Hudson kissed my bare shoulder, his breath warm against my skin. "You were incredible, Bea," he murmured, his voice raspy. Alex, too, offered praise, his words muffled as he lay on the sheets beside me. As they both basked in the afterglow, enjoying the quiet contentment of satiated desire, I finally decided I needed to wash up. I felt sticky, but also a curious warmth from being so thoroughly claimed.

I took a long, hot shower, the water washing away the physical evidence of our tryst. As I scrubbed my skin, a pang of guilt, cold and sharp, pierced through me. I thought about the girl I once was, the timid, innocent Beatrice, and how much I had changed in just a few months. But I pushed the guilt away, letting the warm water carry it down the drain. I also felt something else, something powerful: I felt alive. And undeniably sexy. I never could have imagined feeling this desired by men, this confident in my own body. I used to be such a nerd, a wallflower, completely unnoticed. And now, I was here, in a hotel room, after being pleasured by two men, feeling a power I had never known.

When I returned to the bedroom, completely naked, Hudson was asleep on his back, his breathing deep and even. Alex was close to falling asleep, his eyes heavy-lidded, but they lit up when he saw my body, my hair still wet and clinging to my shoulders. I could feel his lust, a tangible pull towards me. Without being asked, without a thought, I crawled onto the bed between his legs. My hand reached out, finding his cock. It was still soft, but it hardened quickly in my grasp. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time that night, I felt completely in control. I batted my eyes, a mischievous glint I didn't know I possessed shining through. "Do you want to fuck me, Alex?" I whispered, my voice low and seductive.

He nodded, silently, his eyes wide, careful not to make a sound that would wake Hudson. I asked if he had a condom. He nodded toward his discarded trousers on the floor. I crawled over, grabbed them, and felt around in the pockets until my fingers closed around a strip of condoms. I pulled one out and tossed it to him. He caught it, tore open the packet with quick, eager hands, and put it on. I watched him, then wordlessly straddled him, letting him slide his cock into my pussy. The feel of him entering me was a familiar ache, but this time, it was different. I was defiant. I felt sexy and powerful and in control, for once, as I moved above him, slowly, deliberately, defying the sleeping Hudson.

I began to ride his dick, a powerful, rhythmic motion. I had ridden Hudson before, but he was always in control, guiding my movements, focused on our mutual pleasure. With Alex, I controlled the tempo. He simply laid back, his eyes on me, enjoying the show and the raw sensations. I brought my hands to my breasts, lifting them, cupping their full weight, trying to be consciously sexy and put on a display for him in a way I had never done before. I licked my fingers, then massaged my own nipples, tugging at them as I moved faster, riding his dick, a low moan escaping my throat with each rise and fall. He kept his hands on my hips, groaning with me, appreciating the visual. "You're a good slut," he rasped, "you're fucking me so good."

At some point, as I rode Alex with increasing abandon, Hudson woke up. I flashed him an almost defiant look. I could see a mix of surprise, confusion, and anger in his eyes, but underlying it all was undeniable lust. He was watching me ride his friend, a complicated cocktail of emotions flickering across his face. I saw he was hard again. But then I focused my attention back on Alex, putting my hands on his chest, continuing to ride his cock, intentionally moving in a way that made my breasts bounce, knowing he would enjoy the visual. "You feel so good," I whispered to Alex, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. I had never been very verbal during sex. Hudson did most of the talking, and I mostly just moaned and agreed. I had never initiated dirty talk, but a new, bold impulse urged me forward. "I want to make you cum, baby," I said, looking Alex directly in the eyes. "I want to make you feel so good." I moved faster, grinding down, and he groaned louder, his hips bucking in response. "I want to cum," I finally said, the words feeling liberating as they left my lips. I had never said that out loud without Hudson asking me to first. I hesitated for a moment, riding him harder, wondering if I could truly break out of my shell. And then, with a rush of defiant pleasure, I added, "I want to cum with your cock deep inside me, baby."

With a powerful surge of his hips, Alex suddenly rolled me over, shifting us into missionary position. If he cared what Hudson thought, or about Hudson's earlier possessiveness, he didn't indicate it at all. He didn't even acknowledge Hudson next to us, who was watching and massaging his own hard prick. Alex jackhammered my pussy. It was a different, faster, more intense rhythm than anything I had ever experienced, a primal, relentless pounding that pushed me to the brink. "You're gonna cum so hard for me, you little slut," he insisted.

My body responded without thought, arching into his thrusts. I felt my orgasm approaching. I moaned for him to fuck my harder. He was eager to oblige came hard from him fucking me, a raw, piercing cry tearing from my throat as my muscles convulsed. "I've never come so hard in my life," I said without thinking. And I was telling the truth.

He pulled out of my pussy, quickly took off his condom, and tossed it to the floor. Then, he gave his dick a few big tugs while grunting, before cumming all over my breasts and stomach, a hot, thick cascade of white liquid.

Hudson, apparently eager to reclaim what he saw as his, didn't give me a minute to rest. He knelt between my spread legs. With a powerful motion, he lifted my legs, pushing them back and bending my knees, then he carefully maneuvered my lower legs over his shoulders, my ankles resting behind his head. This was the anvil position, I realized, my hips pushed high, my pussy presented wide open and vulnerable.

My pussy, still wet and aching from Alex, stretched to accommodate him as he easily slid his hard dick inside. I gasped, a mixture of pain and profound fullness. Again, he didn't use a condom. Instinctively, I knew this time he wouldn't pull out. "I told you before that this cunt belongs to me," he growled. The possessiveness, the declaration, once again, that my pussy belonged to him, gave me chills.

He fucked me into oblivion. He didn't care that my pussy was sore. He was relentless, determined to own me, to remind me who my cunt belonged to. The deep, brutal, relentless thrusts quickly caused me to climax again, even as it started to cause me pain and make my eyes water. Each thrust was a powerful, driving force, slamming his enormous cock deeper and deeper inside me, stretching me to my absolute limits. My hips involuntarily bucked against him, my moans turning into whimpers, then guttural cries. I could feel the bruising beginning, the raw friction against my overused tissues.

Alex watched, mostly without comment, his gaze fixed on my writhing body, the rhythmic pounding. "Damn, this slut sure can take a lot of dick," he finally murmured, his voice a low, appreciative rumble. "She's been properly broken in." Hudson didn't break stride. He was as steady as a metronome, banging my sore cunt, his eyes blazing, looking directly into mine as I wailed and moaned and writhed and took his dick. My breasts were sore from bouncing in rhythm with my body all night. And still I came a second time for him, the fourth of the night for me, a raw, desperate cry tearing from my throat as my muscles clenched around his cock.

Somehow, that further incited him. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming even more furious, a relentless, primal assault. I started to plead, my voice broken and hoarse, saying "please, I can't take anymore," but at the same time, a desperate, contradictory part of me pleaded with him not to stop.

"Who does this pussy belong to, Bea?" he demanded, his voice a growl of pure dominance.

I could only moan, tears blurring my vision, "Yours! It's yours, Hudson! Only yours!" He banged me harder, driving his dick in with punishing force, and I took it, every agonizing, exhilarating inch.

Somehow, Alex was hard for a third time, standing by the bed, stroking his dick inches from my face, watching the brutal spectacle. Hudson leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Cum for me again, Bea," he demanded, his voice thick with raw command. "Cum again and tell me who that pussy belongs to!" The pressure in my core built again, impossibly, relentlessly. I was on the verge of shattering. And as I reached yet another orgasm, my entire body convulsing violently, I cried out, "It's your pussy! I belong to you!" My pushes clenched and squeezed, milking his cock with my inner muscles.

With a few final, powerful thrusts and manly grunts, he exploded inside me, filling me with his hot, thick seed. I felt the powerful pulsations deep within my womb, a torrent of hot liquid. And then he held me in that position, legs still up, his cock still inside me, plugging me while he caught his breath. At some point, Alex had cum again, covering my tits with more of his jizz. I hadn't even noticed when it happened.. After a long moment, Hudson finally pulled out with a wet plop, and his cum, thick and heavy, ran out of my pussy and down the crack of my ass, leaving a sticky puddle on the sheets.

I fell asleep like that, in a hazy, exhausted orgasm afterglow, still covered in cum. When I woke up in the morning to the sound of an alarm, Alex was gone. Hudson was also missing. The space beside me on the bed was empty where he had been.

I was still naked, my body aching in places I hadn't known existed. The shower was running in the bathroom. I just lay there, eyes unfocused, contemplating who I had become and everything I had done. Hudson eventually emerged from the bathroom, cheerful, showered, and dressed for his work meetings. He was kind and sweet, giving me a soft smile. He made no mention of the night before, no acknowledgment of the hours of explicit, relentless sex. He just gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. "I have to go, Bea," he said, his voice light. "You don't need to rush. Just check out by noon." Then he told me to have a safe drive home, kissed me again, a chaste peck on the lips, and left. I thought about showering, about washing away the sticky aftermath, but I was too exhausted and sore. My muscles ached. So, I dozed off again, unable to even process what had happened or think about what the future held.

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