After the Touch (Beverley’s POV)

I slipped into bed, the image of his lust-filled eyes and those strong hands replaying over and over in my mind like a filthy loop I couldn’t pause. Sleep was going to be impossible tonight. And deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be.

The house was quiet again, but something between us had happened. I knew it. And from the way he’d looked at me… he knew it too.

I lay there in the darkness, still wearing nothing but my tiny pink booty shorts. The soft fabric was already damp between my thighs, clinging uncomfortably to my swollen pussy. My body felt electric, every nerve ending alive and screaming for more attention. The cool air from the AC brushed over my bare breasts, making my nipples tighten into hard, aching little peaks again. I shivered, but not from the cold.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow tightly and trying to force myself to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. No matter how hard I tried to think about NYU, or moving out, or anything normal, my thoughts kept circling back to him. To Marcus.

I kept feeling his big, warm palms on my tits, the way he’d squeezed them so confidently, like they were his to touch. The firm, possessive way he’d kneaded the soft, heavy flesh, his fingers sinking in as if testing how they felt in his hands. The deliberate, teasing strokes of his thumbs dragging slowly across my sensitive nipples, circling them, flicking them until my knees had gone weak right there in the kitchen. He was so bold. So shameless. He hadn’t even pretended to be sorry. And the worst part? I hadn’t wanted him to stop.

In fact, for those few dangerous seconds, I had wanted him to do so much more.

I remembered the heat of his body so close to mine, the way his breath had brushed against my neck, and how my own nipples had stiffened instantly under his touch. I remembered the massive, unmistakable bulge in his sweatpants pressing forward, straining toward me. He was rock hard… because of me. Because of my body. The thought made fresh heat bloom between my legs, my pussy throbbing with embarrassing need.

I bit my lip hard, pressing my thighs together again, but it only made the ache deeper. My heavy breasts felt swollen and sensitive, brushing against the sheets with every small movement. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on them, and it was driving me crazy.

He’s Mom’s boyfriend. He was just downstairs with her. This is so fucking wrong.

But no matter how many times I repeated that in my head, my body didn’t care. It wanted more. It wanted his hands again. His mouth. That thick cock I had felt twitching against his pants.

I let out a shaky breath and rolled onto my back, staring up at the dark ceiling, my heart still racing.

My hand moved down before I could think twice. I slipped it under the waistband of my tiny pink booty shorts and found my pussy already dripping wet. My swollen lips were slick and puffy, my juices coating my fingers instantly as I ran them up and down my clit. My clit was throbbing, peeking out from its hood, so sensitive that the lightest touch made my hips twitch.

I closed my eyes and let the fantasy take over completely.

I pictured Marcus sneaking into my room, while Mom was sound asleep down the hall. I imagined him closing the door quietly behind him, his eyes dark with hunger as he approached my bed. Without saying a word, he’d rip my shorts down my legs roughly, exposing my soaked pussy. Then he’d spread my thighs wide open, push my knees back toward my chest, and bury his face between my legs like a starving man.

I could almost feel his hot tongue dragging slowly up my clit, lapping up every drop of my wetness before wrapping his lips around my swollen clit and sucking hard. I imagined him growling against my pussy, the vibrations sending shocks through my body as he devoured me, licking, sucking and tongue-fucking my tight hole until I was grinding desperately against his face, my hands fisting his hair, begging him to fuck me.

“Oh fuck…” I breathed, circling my clit faster with two fingers, my breathing already ragged.

The memory of his hard bulge pressing against his sweatpants flashed in my mind again and again. He had been so thick. So obviously rock hard for me. I kept wondering how big he really was. How thick the head would feel pushing against my entrance. Would it stretch me open? Would it hurt in that delicious way? Would it ruin me for any other guy?

I was so lost in the fantasy that I reached blindly for my nightstand drawer, fingers fumbling for my thick, veiny vibrator.

Just as I wrapped my hand around it, the silence in the house was gone. It started again.

The familiar, relentless rhythmic thumping of their bedframe slamming against the wall echoed through the thin walls. Mom’s breathy, needy moans quickly turned into loud, filthy cries that filled the entire hallway. “Yes, Daddy… oh fuck, right there! Give it to me harder!” followed by Marcus’s deep growls and the wet slapping sounds of skin pounding against skin.

I froze for a second, my fingers still pressed tightly against my dripping clit. They were going at it again. Hard. Loud. Completely shameless. Round two or maybe three. It didn’t matter. They were fucking like animals, and I could hear every single filthy detail.

Heat flooded my entire body. My pussy clenched hard around nothing, aching with fresh need as I listened to the dirty symphony. The way Mom was moaning like a desperate whore for him made something dark and jealous twist violently in my stomach… but it also made me soaking wet. Wetter than I’d ever been.

I shoved three fingers deep inside my cunt without warning, fucking myself roughly to the rhythm of their bed slamming against the wall. Every thrust, every moan, every dirty word from Marcus sent another gush of arousal leaking down my thighs.

I turned onto my stomach, ass up high in the air like a bitch in heat, and shoved my thick, veiny vibrator deep inside my dripping cunt in one smooth, greedy motion. I turned it on high, the powerful buzzing instantly sending shocks through my soaked walls. I started fucking myself hard to the exact rhythm of their filthy fucking through the wall.

Every time their bed slammed against the wall with a loud thump, I slammed the thick toy balls-deep into my hungry pussy. Every time Mom screamed “Harder, Daddy!”, I imagined Marcus growling those same words directly into my ear as he destroyed me.

“You like this cock, baby? You like Daddy stretching that tight little pussy while your mom is right down the hall, clueless and getting fucked by the same dick?”

I fucked myself harder, moaning desperately into my pillow. My heavy tits were smashed against the mattress, sensitive nipples dragging roughly against the sheets with every brutal thrust of the toy. I reached back with my free hand, grabbed one ass cheek and spread myself wide open, imagining Marcus standing behind me, staring down at both my holes while he pounded me senseless.

The sounds from their room grew even louder and nastier. Mom was getting close, her moans turning into broken, high-pitched screams that echoed down the hallway. Marcus was grunting like a wild animal, that deep, dominant voice I was quickly becoming addicted to sending fresh waves of heat straight to my core.

I pictured him behind me instead. His strong hands gripping my hips exactly like he was gripping hers right now. Slamming every thick inch of that big cock into my tighter, younger pussy over and over again while he whispered filthy things — telling me I was so much tighter, so much wetter, so much better than my mother.

That thought completely destroyed me.

I came hard, violently, my pussy spasming and gushing around the buzzing vibrator as my whole body convulsed. I bit down hard on the pillow to muffle my loud, shameless moans, but I couldn’t stay completely quiet. My orgasm seemed to last forever, powerful wave after wave crashing through me while they kept fucking like rabbits on the other side of the wall.

Even after that intense release, I didn’t stop. I kept the vibrator buried deep inside my twitching cunt, grinding it slowly against my sensitive walls as I continued listening to them. Mom came loudly, screaming Marcus’s name like a pornstar, but they didn’t stop. They never stopped quickly. I could hear more dirty talk drifting through the walls, Marcus calling her his dirty little slut, telling her to take his big cock like a good girl, asking her if she loved being his personal whore.

I hated how jealous it made me.

I wanted to be the one he was calling his good girl. I wanted to be the one getting destroyed by that cock. I wanted him to bend me over and use me like his personal fucktoy while Mom slept just down the hall.

I slowly pulled the vibrator out of my soaked pussy with a loud, wet, obscene schlick sound. It was absolutely glistening, coated thickly with my creamy juices that dripped down the veiny shaft in shiny strings. The toy was still buzzing weakly, covered in my arousal. Without even thinking, I brought it straight to my mouth and sucked it clean like a filthy whore, moaning softly around the thick girth as I tasted my own sweet, musky flavor.

I swirled my tongue around every inch, licking up every drop of my cream, sucking hard on the head like it was a real cock. In my mind, it wasn’t my toy anymore it was Marcus’s thick dick, fresh from being buried inside me, coated in my pussy juices and maybe even some of his own cum. I imagined him forcing it between my lips right after he’d fucked me, making me clean every trace of our dirty secret off him while he stroked my hair and called me his good little slut.

“Mmm…” I whimpered around the toy, pushing it deeper into my mouth until I gagged slightly, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. The taste of my own orgasm only made me hornier.

By the time they finally finished their second round or maybe third, I’d completely lost count in my lust-drunk haze I was a sweaty, trembling, filthy mess on my bed. My thighs were slick and sticky with my juices, some of it even running down to my ass crack. The sheets beneath me were ruined, a big wet spot soaked through from how much I’d gushed. My heavy tits were flushed red, nipples still rock hard, and my pussy continued to twitch and leak even after all that.

I lay there panting, chest heaving, staring up at the dark ceiling with hazy, unfocused eyes.

This is so fucking wrong.

The guilt tried to choke me, whispering that this was my mother’s boyfriend I was obsessing over, that I had just fucked myself senseless while listening to him destroy her. But even as the shame burned hot in my chest, my greedy little pussy throbbed again with fresh, desperate need. My clit was still swollen and sensitive, begging for more.

One kitchen grope and one night of listening to them fuck wasn’t enough anymore. Not even close.

I wanted Marcus.

I wanted my mom’s boyfriend to sneak into my room in the middle of the night, pin me down on this very bed, and fuck me harder, dirtier, and deeper than he’d ever fucked her. I wanted him to stretch my tight pussy with that thick cock, slap my ass red, choke me, call me his dirty little secret, and pump me full of his hot cum until it leaked out of me for days.

And I was terrified of how little I cared about how wrong it was.

In fact… the wrongness only made me want it more.