Women Seeking Women #27

Cali was twenty-two and obsessed. Tyler pulled up in his matte-black Civic around midnight, both windows down, engine ticking hot. As he slammed the door her shorts already sat bunched on the porch railing. She stood barefoot, bare ass catching the porch-light glow, tits bouncing heavy under a thin tank while he walked up the steps, grinning like the cocky prick he was. "Turn," he barked, flicking his lighter so orange flame flashed across her glistening folds. She spun, braced her hands on the railing, arched her back so the wet lips of her pussy spread open in the warm air. He spit on his fingers, shoved two in deep, curling till she whimpered. The screen door rattled as neighbors’ lights blinked on two houses down—someone nosy watching a show she wasn’t starring in yet. Tyler dropped his jeans, cock springing thick against his stomach, and slid straight in without warning. Her knees buckled; he caught her hips, driving harder, slapping skin on skin until her nipples dragged the rough wood. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripped onto her lower back as he kept pounding, the whole rail creaking. A car crawled by slow, headlights sweeping up her spread cheeks, shining on the slick trail running down her thigh. He grunted a low laugh, pushed her forward, chest to the rail now, grabbed a fistful of hair, tilted her head so she could see the street. Someone in a passing truck definitely waved—then Tyler came, hot ropes painting the inside of her before dripping back out around his still-pulsing shaft. He pulled free, dick swinging heavy, and smacked her ass once for good measure. She stayed bent, breathing hard, leaking down to her calves while he zipped up, smirked, and said, "Same time next week?"