After that first night on her couch, Samantha and I became addicts.
We f****d every chance we got. Mornings when Emily left for work, quickies in Samantha’s laundry room while she was supposed to be working from home. Late nights in her backyard when Emily was asleep — me bending her over the patio table, railing her from behind while she bit her arm to stay quiet.
We got reckless fast.
One morning Emily had barely backed out of the driveway when Samantha texted: “Laundry room. Door’s open.”
I was there in under a minute. She was waiting in a short robe, nothing underneath. The second I stepped inside she dropped to her knees on the cool tile floor and pulled my c**k out. She sucked me deep and sloppy, gagging herself while looking up at me with those hungry eyes. Spit dripped down her
