Lying naked on the couch, my body still humming with the aftershocks of my climax, I watch Mrs. Jones and the coach ascend the stairs. The sound of their footsteps fades as they disappear into the hallway, no doubt headed for my parents' bedroom.
My mind wanders back to the memory of spying on them having sex on my parents' bed. It was wrong to invade their privacy like that, but that night set off a chain of events that led to all these incredible orgasms.
A faint creak from upstairs catches my attention, but the door doesn't shut. Is it an invitation? My heart quickens at the thought. No, I remind myself. Mrs. Jones instructed me to rest, and I should listen to her, so I stay put.
Mrs. Jones' moans drift down the stairs, followed by the coach's grunt and the rhythmic squeaking of the bed frame, which blends with the slapping of skin on skin. I really want to watch them. And join them. But I know I should respect their privacy and follow Mrs. Jones' instructions.
The moans escalate into lustful cries, and my body yearns for a visual that matches the erotic sounds. I need a distraction. With my eyes closed, my hand slowly moves down my body, between my legs, and over my glistening petals. My fingers rub and circle my sensitive pearl with uncontrolled intensity, mirroring the animalistic rhythm of their cravings. This isn't about romance or gentleness—it's untamed lust.
My nub throbs with anticipation, and my fingers instinctively respond, stroking in tight circles as I push myself to the brink. I bite my lip, resisting the urge to moan aloud as the pleasure grows, feeling that familiar tightening in my core and rising pressure as I teeter on the edge, aching for release, but it's just out of reach.
My body begs for more... I want—no, I need—his cock inside of me. The touch of my fingers is no longer enough to satisfy my desperate longing for the coach.
With a sigh, I open my eyes, the sound of their bodies colliding drawing me in like a magnet. I tiptoe up the stairs, my heart racing as I approach the open door to my parents' bedroom. The distinct sounds of sploshing, whimpering, groaning, and heavy breathing become louder, and my curiosity gets the better of me.
I can't help but look inside, my eyes widening at the sight before me. Mrs. Jones is on all fours on the bed, her body arched in pleasure as the coach vigorously pounds into her from behind, his cock sliding in and out of Mrs. Jones' slippery softness, my core clenching with need.
Her plump breasts sway with each powerful thrust, and the coach's sweat-slicked back gleams in the bedroom lights. His grunts accompany each vicious movement, and his fingers dig into Mrs. Jones' hips as he drives into her with ferocity.
The intoxicating scent of aroused bodies hangs heavy in the air, a unique fusion of musk and sweat that sends my taste buds into a frenzy and my juices flowing with insatiable desire. I yearn to be in her position, to feel his fingers dig into my hips as he takes me with the same fervor.
Mrs. Jones' eyes meet mine, and she smiles mischievously before her eyelids flutter shut, surrendering to the mounting passion. The coach is so engrossed with Mrs. Jones that he remains completely unaware of my presence in the doorway.
"Oh yes, John, right there!" Mrs. Jones cries out, her body contorting.
He continues his relentless thrusts, his hips slamming into her as she quivers on the edge. My body hums with a thrilling vibration that begins deep within and spreads outward, scorching need pulsing between my thighs as I watch them.
"Yes, just like that!" Mrs. Jones exclaims, her body spasming as she peaks.
Her ragged breaths echo in the room as she collapses on the bed, her body spent. The coach continues his thrusts with a satisfied grin on his face, still oblivious to my presence.
After a few deep breaths, Mrs. Jones opens her hazy eyes, a playful smile curving her lips. "Oh, hello there, sweetheart," she purrs, feigning surprise at my presence.
The coach stiffens, his hips slowing to a stop as he turns to face the door. At the sight of me, his eyebrows lift, his eyes widen slightly, and he tilts his head, clearly intrigued.
"Come here, join us," Mrs. Jones murmurs, patting the space on the bed beside them.
I hesitate only for a moment, my gaze flicking between them, before I step closer, my body buzzing with visceral craving. The coach's cock remains buried in her warmth, his gaze following my every move as I approach.
As I sit, I suck on my lower lip, feeling the heat of his gaze on me, my fingers fidgeting nervously in my lap. With each quick breath, my nipples harden from the weight of his hunger for me, making it impossible to hide how turned on I am.
"Did you enjoy the show?" Mrs. Jones inquires, her voice slurred with amusement as she watches me squirm under the coach's burning stare.
My cheeks flush as I nod. "Yes," I breathe, my voice catching slightly.
"You want to feel John's cock inside you, too, don't you sweety?" Mrs. Jones teases.
My heart races at the thought, and my pulsing gem is already responding to the idea. "Yes," I whisper, unable to contain my excitement.
"John, I believe our little girl here is ready for you," Mrs. Jones says, her voice tinged with playful challenge. "Why don't you show her what you've got?"
The coach's eyes are intent on me, his gaze famished, full of intense thirst as he pulls out, his cock glistening with her essence, but no white traces of his cum can be seen. Still rock-hard, he moves to stand before me, his jaw tight with desire.
"Why don't you lie down and get comfortable, honey?" Mrs. Jones suggests.
My heart flutters as I adjust my position, the cool sheets against my back in stark contrast to the inferno between my shaking thighs.
Mrs. Jones grabs a pillow. "Lift your hips," she instructs, and I obey, feeling the pillow slide under my ass. "This angle will allow John to reach your G-spot perfectly," she assures with a wink, making me blush furiously.
The coach wraps his hand around his shaft, stroking it. "Do you have a condom?" he asks Mrs. Jones.
"She is on the pill, John," Mrs. Jones says, grinning wickedly, and precum spills out of the plum headed cock as she speaks.
Mrs. Jones leans in closer, her voice sultry. "Are you ready for this, sweetheart?"
I nod, my gaze locked on the coach's swollen bulge, my vaginal muscles tensing in anticipation of wrapping around him.
Mrs. Jones smirks. "Then spread your legs wide and let him in," she instructs, her hand sliding down to my button, teasing me with a caress.
"Oh," I gasp, opening my thighs further as the coach moves closer, towering above me.
"Take it slow, John," Mrs. Jones murmurs, her fingers tracing circles across my sensitive flesh as the tip of his cock brushes against my welcoming entrance. "Amy has only a little experience with this."
His eyes turn dark with desire as he leans in. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he promises, before slowly pushing an inch of himself inside of me, causing a whimper to escape my lips.
The sensation of my crush's cock slowly filling me up, lubricated with Mrs. Jones' honey, sends a whirlwind of maddening frenzy spinning through my mind. Their intimate juices blend with mine, creating a heady cocktail of addictive pleasure. Every fiber of my being is electrified with the need to be claimed, to surrender to the possession of his touch, with every pore yearning for the imprint of the heat of his body against mine.