Nathalie nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she continued to rub my cock against her, her liquid coating my length, the sound of our bodies slick and obscene in the quiet room. "D-Dexter," she whispered, her voice trembling, "does it feel better?"
I let out another groan, my body trembling as if I were on the verge of release. "Y-yes, wife," I panted, my voice breaking, my cock twitching violently in her grip. "It—it feels so good. Don't stop."
Anya's eyes darkened, her gaze locked onto my cock as it slid against Nathalie's folds, her own breath coming faster, her fingers tightening around the clipboard until it creaked.
The room was filled with the sounds of our ragged breathing, the slick slide of my cock against Nathalie's wetness, and my low, desperate groans—each one sending another wave of heat through the already charged air.
