False Alarm

Charlie Forde nearly shits herself when the house alarm screams in the middle of the night. Boyfriend’s gone, she’s in a robe clutching a baseball bat, heart jackhammering. Then—knock at the front door. It’s the cavalry: two home-security jocks, Jack Vegas and Billy Boston. Jack kills the alarm and chills with her while Billy scopes the yard. Adrenaline flips into straight-up fuck-me hunger. Charlie eye-fucks Jack like a kid with free candy and tells him the danger made her pussy throb. She wants his attention, now. Jack’s game; they’re barely done stripping when Billy strolls back in, catches them mid-fuck. Charlie grins and waves him over like a party host—"room for one more?" Billy’s shock melts into a raging boner and he dives in. Clothes gone, cocks swapping back and forth, Charlie on her knees, in the air, stuffed and drooling. Four more guards barge through the door—Adonis Breeds, Tee Reel, John Strong, Danny Steele—cell phones lighting up, worried. They freeze. Charlie’s cumming and laughing and telling every last one of them to get hard and get in. Gangbang music: six horny dicks, one grinning slut soaking the carpet, taking it raw while the alarm box blinks silent green in the corner.