Part 1

Part 2

Our freeuse dynamic was going excellently. It may have come along by accident, but Olivia was clearly enjoying herself. It seemed to turn her on to know that I might take advantage of her at any possible moment. So sex made its way out of the bedroom and into our daily lives. This made it so that even mundane tasks–yard work, laundry, cooking–were infused with a subtle sexual tension. Was I going to grab Olivia and fuck her over the countertop after I slid a sheet pan of vegetables into the oven? Maybe. Maybe not. Was I going to make her suck my cock as soon as she got home from her yoga class? There was a strong possibility.

And, slowly, that energy seeped out of the home and into other aspects of our lives. So it was that we were attending a wedding reception, sitting through the best man’s speech when I leaned over, whispering to Olivia, “What kind of panties are you wearing?”

She was in a snug, dark green dress. Simple. Elegant. A gold necklace and matching earrings. Me–an olive linen suit. Breezy and complementary.

She blushed and glanced around, “You know what I’m wearing. You picked them out, Sir.”

I was unfazed, “Answer the question. And be thorough.”

Her face grew redder, “A black lace thong. The one with white trim along the hem. And a small bow on the front.”

“I wanna see. Show me.”

Her eyes went wide, “Here? Someone will see!” Her voice was low but frenzied. She squeezed her thighs together.

“Then let’s go outside. There’s a hallway around the corner that leads to another event space. Nothing going on there tonight.”

After the speech, I grabbed her hand and led her out. Her heels clicked as we rushed down a semi-dark hallway–lights half off, a few catering carts sitting empty along the walls. We rounded a corner and I pushed her against the wall. “Let’s see.”

She wiggled her hips, sliding up her dress to show me her black thong.

“Hmm, are you…” I pushed my hand between her legs, sliding my fingers along the thin band of fabric that was squeezed against her pussy. “Wet?”

“God! I will be if you keep doing that.” She pushed against my shoulder playfully.

“Good.” With my other hand, I pulled her top to the side just enough to access her breast. No bra. I grasped her nipple, squeezing it between thumb and forefinger. I slid into her panties, letting my index finger curve along her labia, drawing out her emerging wetness.

I spun her around to face the wall, my hand grasping her tit as my finger slid slowly inside her.

“Mmf.”

God did I love that first moan that escaped from her lips. Well, I loved every fucking noise she made–and she was noisy--but that first one always made me throb. And so I did, suit trousers pushing against her ass, bulge pressing between her plump cheeks. I slid up to my palm inside her, removing my hand from her chest for a moment to fumble my fly open. I pulled my cock out. Let it slap against her soft skin.

“Let’s get these out of the way, you’re fucking soaking them.” I rolled her thong down her thighs, leaving it just above her knees. I added my middle finger, sliding two inside her pussy, gently stretching her. Fuck did I love feeling her ridges against my digits. Other hand on her hip, thumb pressing against the top curve of her ass.

“Mm, fuck, fuck, fuck, Sir. Wait, oh god, it’s so fucking good.” She was grinding into my palm. Pathetically. Desperately. I pulled my index and middle finger out, dragging her slickness up and running rapid circles around her clit. I alternated between doing this and diving back into her pussy now and then to replenish with her soaking wetness. And god was she fucking wet. I could feel it running down my wrist. Down her soft legs. When I plunged my fingers inside her–pulling in a come hither motion towards her g-spot–and then took them out, I rubbed the excess wetness along her soft inner thighs.

“You’re fucking soaking.”

“Yeah, thanks to you.” She grinded her ass against my cock. “Fuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please don’t stop, Sir. Please.”

There was a murmur of voices around the corner, but Olivia was so far out of her mind that she didn’t notice. I was the one who was a little concerned she was being too loud, so I moved my palm to her mouth, covering it while I continued to orbit her clit. The heat radiating from between her legs was driving me absolutely mad. My cock throbbing, pressing against her bare ass.

I started moving more quickly. I could feel her breathing speed up. Knew she was biting her lips. She kept grinding against me. So fucking needy. “Right there. Fuck, right there. Just like that.”

And so I did it just like that. Teasing her clit. Circling it. Drawing up wetness when I needed. I moved my other hand back to her chest, rolling her nipple along my thumb. I knew it would get her there. Nipple play always sent her over the edge.

Of course, now she was moaning even louder, but I didn’t care. I was focused on making her cum. Circle upon circle upon circle. She was gone, not thinking, grinding, grinding, grinding until–

“Ah!”

She convulsed against my palm, hips bucking suddenly, violently, followed by a shiver through her body. I stopped, slowly drawing my fingers away from her sensitive clit. Down to her hips, holding her. I slid my cock down her ass cheeks, shoved it between her legs.

“Hold on, wait, fuck, I’m going to cum.” I started fucking her thighs, the top of my shaft rubbing against her labia. I was sticky with her wetness. I held the sides of her legs, pushing them tightly together. More friction. Squeezing my cock. God, it was fucking throbbing.

“Mhm, mm, fuck, okay, okay, where are you gonna–?”

I slid my hand downwards, grabbed her thong, which was still around her knees, and pulled it upwards. I pressed it against my swollen cockhead just as I started to cum. My hand was tight around Olivia’s throat as I convulsed against her, sticky white semen filling her panties. Of course, that thong was fucking tiny and the cum immediately started to drip down my shaft, then her thighs.

She gasped against me, bucking her ass as I let out a final rope of cum. “Fuck. That was fucking great.”

Olivia panted, holding herself against the wall, “Christ. Fuck.” She looked down, “Well, that thong is fucking ruined.”

“Too bad, I liked it.” I held her close, catching my breath, her heart beating against my forearm.

“Guess I’m going pantyless for the rest of the evening.” I let her go so she could smooth out her dress. She gingerly removed the thong, which was absolutely drenched with both of our fluids. She looked around, “Ah, fuck. I’m a mess.”

It was then that we heard the tell-tale bop of the motherfucking Macarena.

I exchanged looks with Olivia, “Fuck, I can't believe we missed that."

She rolled her eyes, "Let's get cleaned up, mmkay?"