Closing The Distance

They just bought the house. Now they barely fuck. Lucas Frost and Katrina Colt are living the dream on paper—mortgage paid, yard looks good—but something’s missing. Bills, overtime, excuses. They drift. She gets an idea. Why not screw like horny teenagers in every goddamn room? Kitchen counters get claimed first. She’s bent over the marble, his cock buried to the hilt while the takeout bags sit forgotten. Then the stairs—he catches her halfway, spreads her on the landing, eats her until her thighs shake. Laundry room, hallway, against the sliding door for the neighbors to almost see. Each room becomes a dirty checkpoint. By the time they reach the master, she’s dripping down her leg and he’s hard again. The house doesn’t feel empty anymore. It feels claimed.