The orgasms piled into each other. There was nothing to do but hang on. Just as soon as she’d come down from one her clit was being sucked on or the finger in her ass drove deeper. Emilia came and came and came.
Rosie had been playing with herself the whole time, and at her cry, Simon glanced down and jerked out of Emilia. As the MILF fell sideways, coughing and trying to catch her breath, Simon had Rosie on her elbows and knees, pounding into her pussy as she cried out with a hoarse, “FUCK!” The word kept bouncing out of her, stuttered every time Simon filled her pussy. Emilia watched, still sucking in great lungfuls of air, playing with her too-sensitive pussy, unable to stop. She was on autopilot. Simon could have done anything he wanted in that moment. He stared down at her, his muscles flexing, sweat beading on his brow. He spanked Rosie hard, and the crack made Emilia jump.
Rosie tipped forward, head crushed to the mattress. She rocked back and forth, reaching a shaky hand out for Emilia as her cries went wordless. Simon took the arm and pinned it behind her back, then grabbed the other and did the same. He was absolutely merciless in his pounding, and the biggest, goofiest grin spread wide across Rosie’s face.
“It’s… so… fucking… good!” she gasped. Her body strained forward, nearly going flat against the bed. Her feet kicked against the comforter and she threw her head back as far as she could, silent as she came again.
Simon jerked out of her and knelt between Emilia’s legs. He lined up his cock with her pussy, his eyes crazed, and for a moment, she thought he was going to do it, going to fuck her.
“Milo… Jaxton…” she croaked, holding up a hand.
The words pierced the fog of his lust, and he squeezed his eyes shut, drawing deep lungfuls of breath. She scooted down the bed, taking his cock in her hands and aiming at her face. He came in mere moments, the biggest blast of all the boys yet, painting her face, her neck, her hair.
Rosie came between them, a hand on Simon’s chest. She nodded at him, and he fell to the side, still looking like a bull ready to charge but coming down. Rosie murmured, “Hold still, hon, you don’t want it in your eyes. He comes so much.”
“They all do,” Emilia said.
Rosie giggled. “Right?”
She wiped at Emilia’s eyes and forehead, and offered the other woman her fingers. Emilia sucked him down — he was definitely the bitterest of the boys, but she still liked the taste, driven mostly by that taboo in sucking down his come. Rosie took some for herself, sucked her fingers down with a flourish and a pop. Emilia couldn’t help a breathless laugh.
* * *
Rosie had to go, so after she got cleaned up, she arranged for an Uber to take her home. Simon and Emilia stayed in bed, him on his back, her on her side, stroking his chest. He stared at the pictures on the wall, and rose up to take one of them down. He held it for Emilia to see. It was of Landon when he was sixteen or so, a family photo along with Simon, Jaxton, and Landon’s then-girlfriend.