Spreading My Legs Wide Open

14: Dirty Night: Four Rounds (Maybe More?)

~ Evie ~

Claire texts.

It’s 11:47 p.m.

"We should talk tomorrow. All three of us."

My stomach flips hard. f**k. We wrecked their room. Their marital bed. We f****d like animals on the same sheets she still sleeps on with Dad. She saw. She had to. The crusty streaks of my c*m and Jack’s on the headboard we thought we wiped, or that damp patch near the pillow that wouldn’t dry in time, or maybe just the way the sheets were bunched wrong even after Jack stripped them. He swore he got it all - threw everything in the wash, sprayed half a bottle of perfume like that would hide the smell of s*x and us. Guess not.

She knows.

I can feel it in my bones - she’s putting the pieces together. The wet-couch excuse, the laundry running way too late for "chores." Tomorrow she’s going to sit us down, Dad on one side looking confused, her with those sharp eyes, and just… ask. Or worse, tell us what she found. Maybe show us a photo she took of the evidence.

Almost a year of this. A whole f*****g year of me and Jack stealing every empty house, every quick filthy chance to rail each other stupid while Dad and Claire were out or sleeping upstairs. We got cocky. We got good at it. Until today.

But instead of freaking out or crying or whatever, I feel this weird rush. Like, if she’s ending it tomorrow, if this is the last night we get away with it… then why the f**k not burn the house down one more time?

Trust me.

I text Jack quick: "Basement. 1am. Bring everything." He replies in seconds: "f**k yes." I slip out of bed, grab a blanket from the closet, and dig out the lube from my nightstand drawer - the good stuff, the one that makes everything slide just right. My p***y's already thrilling, thinking about what's coming. No more quickies in the laundry room or edging under the table. Tonight, we go all in. Loud as we dare, every dirty thing we've whispered about but never had time for.

It's 12:55 now, and I'm creeping down the stairs, barefoot. The house is dead quiet - Dad and Claire snoring upstairs, totally clueless. Basement door creaks a little when I open it, but I slip through fast. Down here, it's all dusty boxes, an old couch that's seen better days, a rickety table, and that gross carpet that smells like mothballs. Nobody comes here except to grab holiday crap once a year. Perfect. I spread the blanket on the floor, flick on the dim lamp in the corner - soft light, not enough to wake anyone if it leaks upstairs. Then I hear footsteps. Jack's here, blanket under his arm, lube in hand, wearing just boxers that do nothing to hide how hard he already is.

We lock eyes, and it's like a switch flips. No talking at first - we just crash together. His mouth on mine, rough, hungry. Hands everywhere. He yanks my top off. "god, Evie," he mutters, sucking my n*****s hard enough to leave a mark. "If this is our last night, I'm f*****g you senseless."

"Yeah? Better make it good, big bro. Don't want to disappoint."

His hand's already shoving down my shorts.

I'm naked now, shorts kicked away, and I push him back onto the old couch. "Doggy first," I say, voice low but demanding. "Over this thing. I've wanted it rough like that forever." He grins, strips his boxers off. I bend over the couch arm, ass up, legs spread. He grabs my hips, lines up, and slams in deep. No teasing. I gasp loud - louder than we usually dare, and it echoes a bit in the basement. "f**k, yes," I moan. "Harder. Pound me." He does, hips snapping forward, skin slapping skin. I'm gripping the couch cushions.

I push back onto him, meeting every thrust.

We're going at it like animals, and yeah, it's filthy. Sweat's dripping down my back already, and the couch is creaking like it's about to break. I come first - hard, shaking, my p***y gripping around him. It's explosive, waves crashing through me. He keeps railing me through it. Then he pulls out, flips me around so I'm sitting on the couch edge, and shoves his c**k in my mouth.

I suck him clean, sloppy, spit dripping down my chin. Tastes like messy. He comes down my throat, groaning low. I swallow it all, looking up at him with that dirty grin. "Good boy. But we're not done."

We move to the floor next - blankets down, me on top. I straddle him, guide his c**k back inside, and start riding, grinding down deep. "Look at that ass," he says, hands spreading my cheeks. "Bounce on it, Evie. Take what you want." I do, picking up speed, ass slapping against his thighs. It's loud - too loud maybe... I lean forward, hands on the floor, and ride harder. His c**k's hitting everywhere inside me. "f**k, this position - it's killing me," I gasp. "Yeah? Not as much as that time we almost broke the laundry machine. Remember? Dad walked in right after." I snort mid-thrust. "Don't remind me. But god, it was hot. Now shut up and thrust up." He does, bucking his hips to meet me. I come again, gushing a little - wet spot on the blanket now. He flips us, missionary on the floor, and pounds until he fills me up. c*m drips out when he pulls away. "Messy girl," he teases. I swipe some with my finger, lick it clean. "Your fault. Tastes good though."

No breaks. We're both sweating buckets, bodies slick, but the energy's still there. "Table next," I say, standing on shaky legs. "Eat me out while I'm bent over it." The old table's wobbly, but f**k it. I bend over, ass out. He kneels behind me, spreads my cheeks, and dives in. Tongue everywhere - licking my p***y, teasing my ass a little. "Jack - oh f**k, yes. Suck my clit." He's filthy with it, slurping loud, fingers sliding in too. I grind back against his face, moaning without holding back. "Don't stop. Make me squirt." He adds pressure, tongue flicking fast. It builds quick - I'm shaking, gripping the table edge. Then it hits: I come hard, squirting a bit on his chin. He laughs, wiping his face. "Damn, Evie. You just hosed me." I crack up too - it's funny, him dripping like that - but it doesn't kill the mood. Just makes it realer, less perfect-porn bullshit. "Your turn to get messy. f**k my tits."

We switch it up - me on my back on the table, him straddling my chest. I push my t**s together, and he slides his c**k between them. Lube helps - slick, easy thrusts. "Look at that," he groans. "Your t**s are perfect for this." I stick my tongue out, licking the tip each time it pokes through. He speeds up, breathing ragged. Comes all over my chest - warm and sticky. I rub it in, smirking. "Now I'm really marked." He pulls me up, kisses me deep. "Love seeing you like this. Covered in me."

We keep going - positions blurring now. Me riding him on the couch, him pinning me against the wall, standing f**k with my legs wrapped around his waist. We're loud - moans, grunts. The couch squeaks funny. "This thing's gonna collapse," I gasp during one round. He thrusts harder. "Let it. Worth it."

Multiple orgasms for me - three, four? Lost count. He comes in my p***y, my mouth, on my ass. We're a mess - sweat, c*m, lube everywhere. The basement reeks of s*x, but dawn's creeping in through the tiny window.

One last round: slow now, on the floor blankets. Face to face, him inside me deep, rocking gentle. "If this is it," I whisper, "it was worth everything." He nods, kissing my neck. "Yeah. But f**k, I don't want it to end." We come together - quiet this time, intense. He stays inside after, holding me.

Tomorrow - today now - Claire's talk. What happens? Will she blow it all up?