Penelope was used to being insatiable. Desire was as much a part of her as her wild red hair or the soft, dangerous curve of her hips. She’d never felt any shame about it—not when she was younger, exploring her body in secret, and certainly not now, at twenty-eight, married to a man who worshipped her and tried valiantly to match her appetite. Clark, with his tall, athletic build and those impossible green eyes, was every woman’s fantasy—her fantasy, especially when he pressed her to the mattress, when his voice turned rough and low in her ear, when his hands claimed her, over and over again.

But Clark was gone. He’d left for a weeklong work trip—his first in months—and the house was too quiet without him. The sheets still smelled like his skin and his cologne, his pillow dented where his head had rested the night before. Penelope wandered the house in a loose tank top and nothing else, her body humming, restless, unsatisfied.

She tried to distract herself. She ran extra miles at the gym, sweat clinging to her skin, her nipples hard under her sports bra, her imagination wild with memories. She took long, hot showers, let the water slip down her breasts, imagined Clark behind her, soapy hands kneading her flesh, his mouth against her neck. But it wasn’t enough. She was hungry, desperate, aching in a way that left her legs pressed tight together as she lay awake at night, her hand slipping beneath her panties as she chased that edge—but always, always, wanting more.

It was the third night when the loneliness started to feel like a fever. She was on her bed, sprawled on the covers, her phone in hand as she thumbed through the messages Clark had sent her. Some were sweet—Miss you already, baby. Others, dirtier—Wish I could be there right now, on my knees for you. She sent him a photo, the tank top slipping off her shoulder, a hint of bare breast in the shot, her lips parted just so.

His response came quickly: You’re killing me. I want you so bad.

She wanted him too. But tonight, that need felt sharp and wild and a little dangerous.

Penelope closed her eyes and let her hand drift lower, letting herself pretend it was Clark’s hand instead—strong, confident, greedy. She moaned softly, the sound echoing in the empty bedroom, her mind filling in the gaps: his mouth, his weight, his breath hot against her skin.

But she needed more. Needed something real. Needed to be touched, to be filled, to be wrecked the way only a lover’s body could wreck her.

Penelope bit her lip, her pulse racing as she wondered—what would she do to satisfy herself if she couldn’t have Clark? And just how far was she willing to go?

Penelope’s hands shook with anticipation as she dialed Jonathan’s number, her breath coming in quick, shallow pulls. Jonathan was the kind of man who made her take a second look—tall, broad-shouldered, every inch of him carved muscle beneath smooth, rich chocolate skin. He had the kind of presence that could fill a room even before you saw him; it was in the power of his walk, the calm weight of his voice, the deep, mellow laugh that always rolled through his chest like thunder.

He answered after a few rings, his voice deep and sleep-rough. “Penelope? Everything okay?”

She forced a tremble into her voice—something between nerves and anticipation. “Hey, Jon. I’m so sorry to bother you this late, but…I think I heard something. In the house. Clark’s out of town and—would you mind just coming over? Just to check things out?”

A pause. “Give me two minutes. Lock your doors till I get there.”

He was at her front door in what felt like seconds, filling the threshold with that impossible build—sweatpants riding low on his hips, a white t-shirt stretched tight across his thick chest and arms, every contour of his body demanding to be touched. Penelope’s mouth actually watered at the sight of him, her need sharpening from a dull ache to a sharp, greedy hunger.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, scanning her up and down in a way that made her flush.

“Hey, Jon.” She looked up at him, letting her gaze linger, feeling the heat build between them already. “I heard something upstairs. Would you mind…?”

He nodded, all business, but there was something in the way his gaze raked her body that told her he wasn’t entirely immune to the way she was dressed—her tank top barely covering her breasts, the soft shorts clinging to the curve of her ass.

“Stay down here. I’ll check it out,” he ordered gently, his voice all protective, all power.

Penelope waited, her nerves buzzing. She listened to Jonathan’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, imagined those powerful arms flexing as he opened doors, checked closets. She pictured his broad back, his big hands, the muscles shifting beneath that t-shirt. God, he was gorgeous. Every inch of his skin made her want to taste, to bite, to press her body to his and see if he’d give in.

With her heart pounding, she let her shorts drop to the floor, her hands trembling. Then her tank top followed, leaving her standing in nothing but her hunger and bare skin, nipples peaked in the cool air, her body glistening with anticipation. By the time Jonathan’s footsteps started coming back down the stairs, Penelope’s breath was hot and shallow, her body thrumming with want.

Jonathan rounded the corner and stopped dead, his massive frame suddenly rigid, every muscle in his body going taut. His eyes went wide, that soft brown turning dark with something hotter.

“Penelope—what the hell are you doing?” His voice was a mix of shock, warning, and deep, unmistakable hunger.

She walked slowly to him, hips swaying, licking her lips as her gaze roamed over the thick column of his neck, the wide shelf of his shoulders, the mouth she’d imagined kissing every inch of her body. She pressed herself to him, naked and unashamed, her hands sliding up his chest, curling around the back of his neck—her body impossibly small against his strength.

She lifted herself onto her tiptoes, lips brushing his ear. “I need help, Jon,” she whispered, her voice aching with need. “Something only a big, strong man like you can do for me.”

Her lips grazed his jaw, and she shivered, desperate for his hands on her, her breath coming in soft, needy pants. “Please,” she begged, her voice raw, her body pressing harder against him, “I can’t wait anymore…”

Jonathan’s hands came up, big and warm, settling on her waist. For a heartbeat he hesitated, every muscle in his body trembling with restraint. But his eyes—dark, hungry, lost—met hers, and she knew he wanted her just as badly.

Jonathan’s hands hovered on her waist, his fingers pressing into her skin like brands—warm, solid, trembling with restraint. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes darting over her naked body, over the soft lines and curves, the wild, hungry look in her eyes. She felt the pulse of his touch in every inch of her, electricity singing under her skin.

But then he drew a shaky breath, his voice thick and low. “Penelope, we can’t… We’re both married. We shouldn’t—” He sounded almost tortured, every word a battle between what he knew and what he wanted.

But his hands didn’t leave her body.

Penelope slid closer, her bare skin pressed to his clothes, her need so sharp she could hardly breathe. She reached up, her hands sliding from his neck to the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the heat, the tension in his muscles. His lips parted, his breath coming hot and shallow as her mouth hovered close to his.

“They never have to know,” she whispered, her voice soft, dangerous, aching. She traced her thumb over his lips, her breath mixing with his. “Just for tonight. Please, Jonathan.”

For a moment, the world held its breath. Then, like a dam breaking, Jonathan’s mouth crashed to hers—hot, hungry, desperate. His arms wrapped around her, hauling her tight to his chest, his hands exploring every bare inch of her body with greedy reverence. The kiss was fire, was sin, was everything Penelope had been starving for and more.

He devoured her lips, his tongue tangling with hers, his grip fierce and hungry. Penelope moaned into his mouth, pressing herself harder against him, her hands knotting in his shirt as if she could pull him inside her.

For one wild, perfect moment, there was no guilt, no world beyond the heat of his mouth and the strength of his arms—just two bodies, burning up with need, lost in the secret darkness.

Jonathan’s restraint snapped like a stretched thread. He backed her firmly into the solid front door, the cool wood pressing against her bare skin. The world outside faded to nothing—there was only the darkness of the house, their harsh breathing, the heat shimmering between their bodies.

His hands found her breasts, large and warm, his thumbs tracing over the tight, swollen peaks with a reverence and greed that sent a bolt of fire straight through her core. He cupped her, weighed her, squeezed just hard enough to make her gasp. “Goddamn, Penelope,” he murmured, his voice thick, rough, adoring. “You’ve got the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. Full and heavy—fuck, you’re killing me.”

His words were a spark, igniting something wild in her. She arched into his touch, chest thrust forward, desperate for more—always more.

Jonathan’s mouth found her, hot and hungry, lips wrapping around one taut nipple. He sucked, slow and deep, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud, then nipping it gently between his teeth. His big hands kneaded her flesh, pinching, rolling, making her dizzy with pleasure. The rough drag of his stubble sent shivers racing across her skin, every nerve ending lighting up.

Penelope let out an agonized moan, her head falling back against the door, fingers threading desperately into his hair. Her entire body trembled, hips shifting, need flooding her so deeply it made her whimper his name.

“Oh, Jon—” she gasped, her voice breaking, legs threatening to give way. “Don’t stop—please, don’t ever stop…”

He growled against her, switching to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention—licking, sucking, biting until she was squirming, mindless, utterly at his mercy.

Jonathan’s hands roamed lower, big and strong and impossibly warm, gliding down the curve of Penelope’s waist to the lush roundness of her ass. He squeezed, fingers digging in, lifting her just enough that she felt small and powerless in his grasp. “Mmm, girl, look at you,” he rumbled, his voice gravel and heat, “so soft, so thick—made for a man’s hands. Been dreaming about this ass since the first day I saw you in those little shorts.”

Penelope shuddered, the filthy praise making her wetter, her body arching into his touch. His mouth never left her breast, lips and tongue worshipping her as if he was starving, sucking so hard she knew she’d wear his marks for days. She tangled her hands in his hair, holding him to her chest, needing the roughness, the hunger, the helpless sensation of being devoured.

Then his hand slid between her thighs, and she nearly came undone. His thick fingers parted her, searching, finding the slick heat at her core. His thumb pressed to her clit, slow and teasing, circling with a pressure that made her cry out.

“Damn, baby, you’re soaked,” he murmured, the words a wicked vibration against her nipple. “So hungry for me, aren’t you? Just dripping, fuck.”

The back of her head thunked against the door as he rolled her clit, her legs trembling, a raw moan ripping from her throat. “Yes—oh god, Jonathan, please—” She clutched his head even harder, forcing him against her breast, every nerve ending burning.

Jonathan kept up the dirty talk, voice low and relentless as his hands set her body on fire. “Want you to cum all over my hand, Penelope. Want to feel how bad you need it. Wanton whore waiting for me to fill you. You’re gonna lose it for me, aren’t you?”

His fingers teased her entrance, gathering slickness, and his thumb tormented her clit, the combination enough to send her careening toward the edge.

Jonathan’s thick fingers pressed into her, slow at first, stretching her open, then sliding deep. He hooked them forward, finding that sweet, sensitive spot inside her, his thumb never leaving her clit. He worked her with practiced skill, each motion calculated to unravel her.

Penelope’s legs threatened to buckle, her entire body strung tight as a wire. She writhed against the door, clutching his head to her breasts, her breath coming out in short, desperate gasps.

Jonathan’s voice was right against her skin, hot and rough and commanding. “You like that, baby? You love how my big fingers fill you up, huh?” His thumb pressed harder, circling, relentless. “That’s it, Penelope. Cum for me. Squeeze my fingers, make a mess for me.”

He thrust his fingers faster, curling them just right, his dirty words making her impossibly wetter. “Poor husband doesn’t know his gorgeous wife’s about to cum all over her neighbor’s hand. That his best friend’s the one making her lose control.”

She cried out, hips bucking, her walls clenching tight around his fingers as the pleasure crashed through her in waves. Jonathan didn’t stop—he drove her higher, his thumb working her clit, his mouth on her breast, his voice in her ear.

“Give it to me, Penelope. Show me how bad you need it. That’s it—good girl. Cum for me.”

She shattered, her body shaking, pleasure so sharp it was almost pain, her moans echoing through the house. Jonathan held her through it, fingers deep, relentless, then his tongue coaxing every last tremor from her until she was limp and gasping against the door, still clutching him, desperate for more.

Jonathan wrapped his arms around Penelope as she came apart, holding her tight against the door, letting her ride out every last shudder. He kissed her—hard, messy, claiming her mouth while her body still trembled, his tongue demanding, his hands never gentle. She tasted herself on his lips, felt the rough scrape of his stubble, the overwhelming presence of him everywhere.

As her knees weakened, he eased her down, guiding her to the floor. She dropped to her knees in front of him, her breath coming in ragged, needy pants, pupils wide and wild with desire. Jonathan looked down at her, his hand gentle at first as he brushed her hair from her face, then rougher as his need spiked again.

“Open that pretty mouth for me, baby,” he growled, voice all hunger and dominance. “Wider. I want to see how much you can take.”

Penelope obeyed, licking her lips and parting them wide, need thrumming through her. Jonathan tore his shirt off and flung it aside, his chest a sculpture of muscle, dark and gleaming in the low light. He shoved his sweatpants down with one powerful motion, freeing himself at last.

His cock was thick, dark, mouthwatering, heavy in his hand as he gripped the base and gave himself a few rough strokes. He pressed the flushed head against her cheek, smearing precum across her skin, his gaze fixed on her hungry mouth. The sight of her on her knees, lips parted and eyes full of want, made him grin—hungry, triumphant, wicked.

He tapped his cock against her cheek, dragging it over her lips, watching her shiver. “You want this, don’t you? Bet you’ve been thinking about it all week. You gonna be a good girl and take every inch for me?”

Penelope met his gaze, her tongue darting out to taste him, her answer coming as a needy, breathless, “Yes, please, Jonathan, give it to me.”

Jonathan’s gaze locked on Penelope, his eyes burning with possession and raw need. The moonlight spilling through the front window caught her red hair, turning it to molten fire, illuminating her pale skin until she glowed—kneeling before him, lips parted, her hunger undeniable. Against his deep, cocoa-dark skin, she looked ethereal, forbidden, like some goddess in the throes of worship.

He stroked a thumb over her cheek, letting his cock rest heavy against her lips. “Look at you, baby. So fucking beautiful in the moonlight… That pale skin, that red hair, on your knees for me. You look even better pressed up against me—like you were made for this. Made for me.”

Penelope shivered, her tongue flicking out to tease his tip, eyes never leaving his. Her hands wrapped around his thick thighs, squeezing, pulling him closer.

Jonathan’s voice dropped to a filthy, reverent growl. “You want it, huh? Want to taste all this dark cock? Begging for it with that pretty mouth…” He cupped the back of her head, gentle but possessive. “Let me see how much you can take, baby. Let me see you swallow me.”

Slowly, he pressed forward, the thick, smooth head parting her lips, sliding over her tongue. Penelope opened wide, relaxing her jaw, letting him fill her inch by inch—her lips stretched tight around his girth, the taste of him making her moan.

“Fuck, look at you…” Jonathan murmured, his eyes hungry as he watched himself disappear into her mouth. “That’s it, good girl. Look so damn perfect taking me. God, you’re so fucking sexy—my pale little goddess, begging for her neighbor’s cock.”

He rocked his hips forward, slow and controlled, sliding deeper into her heat. Penelope moaned around him, her tongue swirling, her throat relaxing to welcome every inch he gave. Her hair glimmered in the moonlight, her pale skin a striking contrast against his dark hands as he threaded his fingers through her hair, guiding her gently but firmly.

“You were made for this, baby. Look at you—look how fucking pretty you are with your mouth stuffed full of me. Don’t stop. Show me how hungry you really are…”

Penelope’s lips stretched around the thick head of Jonathan’s cock, but there was no way she could take all of him—he was just too big, too heavy, filling her mouth until her jaw ached. She tried, eager and desperate, but soon had to pull back, gasping, her lips slick with spit.

Jonathan grinned down at her, pride and hunger burning in his eyes. “Too much for you, baby?” he teased, his voice a dark caress. “Didn’t know your pretty mouth would be so tight, huh? That’s all right—use those hands, just like that. Show me how bad you want it.”

Penelope wrapped both hands around his thick shaft, circling her fingers over the slick, dark skin, twisting and stroking in rhythm as she bobbed her head on his tip. Her tongue swirled over the sensitive underside, and every time she swallowed him deeper, Jonathan groaned, hips jerking just a little. He laced his fingers through her hair, gripping her head firmly, guiding her, encouraging her to take him faster.

“That’s it—good girl. You look so fucking gorgeous on your knees for me, choking on my cock.” His voice grew filthier, breath ragged. “Slobber all over it, baby. Make a fucking mess for me. You want it so bad—look at you, eyes all wet, drool dripping down your chin… Damn, Penelope, you’re perfect.”

Her eyes watered as she pushed herself to take more, the salty tears slipping down her cheeks. She gazed up at him, desperate to please, the look in her eyes both pleading and defiant. Jonathan’s breath caught, his grip tightening as he thrust his hips a little harder, rocking her head up and down his cock.

“Look at me, Penelope. Don’t take your eyes off me,” he demanded, voice full of heat and power. “I want to see you fall apart. You like being used like this, don’t you? Like being my filthy cock slut?”

She moaned in answer, the vibration traveling through him, her hands twisting, stroking, milking him as her mouth worshipped his cock. She was hungry, wild, lost in the dark and the heat, loving every filthy word, every possessive touch, every aching, desperate second.

Jonathan’s grip in her hair tightened, and his voice dropped to a dark, hungry growl. “Get ready, baby—I’m done going easy on you. You wanted this, right? All of me?” He watched her nod, lips stretched wide around his cock, desperation and lust shining in her eyes.

He didn’t wait for another answer. His hips surged forward, harder, faster, no longer holding back. His thick cock slid deeper into her mouth, forcing her lips wide, pushing to the very limit of what she could take. Penelope’s eyes watered, tears spilling down her cheeks as she moaned around him, her throat straining to swallow as much as she could.

“That’s it—fuck, Penelope, take it. Take all this big black cock like a good girl. You look so fucking hot with your mouth full, drool running down your chin, those gorgeous tits covered in spit. Look at the mess you’re making for me—such a dirty, hungry little thing…”

His hips pistoned, relentless, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth, each thrust driving her further into wild, helpless pleasure. Drool spilled freely from her lips, slick and hot, dripping down her chin and pooling on her breasts, shining in the moonlight as she gasped for breath, completely at his mercy.

Jonathan kept talking, filthier and filthier, the words pouring over her like gasoline on a fire. “God, you love this, don’t you? Love choking on your neighbor’s cock while your husband’s away. Bet you’ve dreamed about this—getting ruined by a real man, making a mess for me, being used however I want. You look so fucking beautiful—such a slut for me.”

Penelope could barely think, her mind blank with need and sensation, the sounds of wet, messy pleasure filling the room. Every stroke made her moan, every filthy compliment made her wetter, her hands clinging to his thick thighs, desperate for more.

Jonathan’s hips kept up their punishing rhythm, his cock glistening with spit, his whole body shuddering with the effort to keep control. He stared down at her, proud and hungry, watching her fall apart for him, knowing she’d never forget this night.

Jonathan gripped her hair tight and finally pulled himself from her mouth, the thick head of his cock slipping free with a loud, filthy pop. A slick trail of spit connected her swollen lips to his shaft, glistening in the moonlight. He didn’t let her catch her breath—just grinned down at her, lust and satisfaction mixing in his dark eyes.

He slapped his cock lightly against her flushed, spit-slicked face, a deep, rumbling laugh escaping him. “Look at you, Penelope. So fucking needy, drooling for it. Can’t get enough, can you?” He watched her shiver, saw her tongue dart out for another taste, desperate and wild for him.

Without another word, Jonathan bent and hooked his big hands under her arms, lifting her like she weighed nothing at all. Penelope gasped, her long legs wrapping tight around his waist, her arms thrown around his shoulders. He kissed her hard—hungry, devouring, tasting the mix of himself and her lingering sweetness. Their mouths collided, teeth and tongues tangling, breath hot and desperate as he carried her across the room.

Jonathan’s hands gripped her ass, kneading and squeezing, his fingers digging in deep, pulling her closer, grinding her slick, aching center against the hard length of his cock. He walked them both to the couch, never breaking their kiss, only stopping when he could drop down and press her to his lap, her body splayed across him, skin on skin.

He pulled back for a moment, his voice a rough promise against her lips. “You ready for it, baby? Ready to get your cunt stuffed?”

Penelope’s answer was a moan, her hips rolling against him, her body begging for everything he had to give.

Jonathan settled on the couch with Penelope straddling his lap, her skin flushed and glistening, her long legs spread wide around his hips. He gripped her ass in his big hands, lifting her slightly and letting her slick, swollen pussy glide along the thick length of his cock. He didn’t rush, just rocked her back and forth, the heavy heat of him sliding between her folds, coating him in her arousal.

Penelope gasped, her body arching, every nerve ending on fire. The head of his cock bumped her clit again and again, the thick shaft dragging through her slippery folds, never quite pushing inside. She writhed and moaned, hands braced on his shoulders, nails digging into his dark, powerful skin.

“Oh god, Jonathan—please,” she whimpered, unable to take her eyes off where their bodies met, “please, don’t tease me… I need it, need you inside me—fuck, please, just fuck me…”

He grinned, grinding her down a little harder, making her tremble. “You like that, huh?” he teased, voice low and wicked in her ear. “Feel how soaked you are? Begging for me, grinding all over my cock like a needy little whore…”

Penelope couldn’t stop, hips rolling, her voice cracking as her desperation peaked. “Please, Jonathan, please—just fuck me, fill me up, I need it, I need it so bad… Please, please, please, fill my pussy up, I can’t wait anymore!”

She chanted it, head thrown back, wild with need, her whole body shaking with hunger for him. Jonathan’s hands squeezed her ass, holding her steady, letting her feel the heavy pulse of his cock pressed right against her entrance—teasing, tempting, about to push her over the edge.

“You want it?” he growled, voice raw, making her ache. “You want me to stretch you out, fuck you so hard you forget your own name? Say it again, baby. Beg for this cock.”

Penelope’s answer was a breathless, shattered cry: “Please, Jonathan—please, I need you inside me now. Fill me up, ruin me, fuck me—please!”

Jonathan’s hands steadied her, his touch still strong but gentle as he lined himself up at her entrance. He could feel her shudder, see the hunger and nerves flashing across her moonlit face. Slowly, he began to press inside, the thick head of his cock stretching her open, filling her inch by inch.

He paused, kissing her throat, whispering in her ear as he gave her time to adjust. His thumb circled her clit, slow and soothing, easing the ache and heightening the pleasure all at once. “Easy, baby… just like that,” he murmured, his voice a husky blend of sweet and sinful. “God, you feel so fucking good around me. So tight—taking every inch, letting me stretch you out.”

Penelope whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulders, hips rocking as she struggled to take him deeper. She felt impossibly full, every nerve singing with the mix of sweet pain and overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Jonathan cooed, rubbing her clit in lazy, perfect circles. “Such a good girl for me, taking this big cock… Look at you—so brave, so desperate. You’re making me lose my mind, baby.”

He pushed deeper, slow and careful, letting her body mold around him, her heat squeezing him tight. Every time she gasped, he soothed her with sweet filth—“You’re doing so good, Penelope… Fuck, you were made for this. Made for me. Feel how deep I am? You’re perfect, baby, so wet, so hungry. Nobody’s ever filled you up like this, have they?”

Penelope moaned, hips bucking as he bottomed out inside her, the stretch delicious, her body shuddering in surrender. His thumb never left her clit, every touch a promise, every word making her fall apart a little more.

“Oh god, Jonathan…” she gasped, clinging to him, overwhelmed and desperate for more. “You feel so good—so big. Don’t stop, please don’t ever stop…”

He grinned against her skin, rolling his hips, slow and deep, letting her savor every inch. “That’s it, baby. Ride me. Show me how much you love getting filled up. You’re so fucking beautiful like this—taking everything I’ve got.”

Jonathan felt her walls flutter around him as he sank in deep, his thick cock stretching her to her limits. He started to move, slow at first, then picking up a relentless rhythm. Each thrust drove him deep, filling her completely, their bodies slapping together with a wet, hungry sound.

Penelope groaned, the sound ripped from her chest, raw and needy. Her head fell back, red hair tumbling down her shoulders as her nails dug deep into Jonathan’s back. The pain only seemed to spur him on—he laughed, low and dark, his mouth at her ear.

“Goddamn, Penelope. You’re so tight around me. You love this, don’t you?” His hands squeezed her ass, driving her down harder onto his cock. “Look at you—fucking yourself on me, greedy for every inch. Your husband could never fuck you like this.”

She whimpered, rolling her hips, meeting every thrust with desperate hunger. “Harder, Jonathan, please… Don’t stop. I love it—I love your big, thick cock inside me. Stretching me out, filling me up. Nobody’s ever made me feel this good. More, please… more…”

He answered with another rough laugh, his hips pistoning faster, his cock slamming deep inside her with every stroke. “You like being stretched, huh? Like having a real man’s cock fill you so deep you can barely take it? You’re dripping all over me, Penelope—so fucking needy, so desperate to get ruined. You’re mine tonight, baby. All fucking mine.”

Their bodies moved together, her moans rising with every brutal, perfect thrust, the couch creaking beneath them. Jonathan’s dirty words spurred her on, her body tightening, climbing higher and higher as he fucked her without mercy, every inch of her alive with pleasure and sin.

Jonathan’s grip tightened on Penelope’s soft ass, his big hands kneading her flesh before landing a hard, stinging smack on one cheek, then the other. The sound echoed through the room, sharp and filthy, making Penelope yelp and clench tighter around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, voice full of dark satisfaction. “Bounce for me. I want to see those pretty tits and that perfect ass move while you ride this cock. Come on—harder. Give it to me. Show me how bad you need it.”

Penelope’s breath came ragged, her body on fire. She obeyed, bracing her hands against his chest, lifting herself up until just the head of his cock remained inside, then slamming back down, harder, faster, every movement making her gasp and shudder. Jonathan met her with punishing thrusts, hips snapping up to meet her every descent, their bodies crashing together in a perfect, hungry rhythm.

He spanked her again, groaning as her cheeks jiggled in his palms. “That’s my dirty little slut. Look at you—so fucking greedy, so desperate for this cock. You love it, don’t you? Love bouncing on me, taking it all, getting stretched wide and used.”

Penelope moaned, riding him harder, lost in the raw pleasure and the filthy praise. “Yes, Jonathan—oh god, yes! I love it. I love how you fuck me—how you fill me up, use me, make me yours. Don’t stop—please, don’t ever stop…”

Jonathan’s hands never stopped roaming, spanking, squeezing, guiding her movements as he drove into her over and over, his voice relentless with dark encouragement. “That’s it, bounce harder, show me what a hungry little slut you are. Make a mess all over my cock. Let the whole neighborhood hear you scream my name.”

Penelope did just that—riding him wild, her body shaking, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as Jonathan’s filthy words and bruising grip pushed her higher, closer to that edge she’d been craving all week.

Penelope’s body seized up, every muscle tightening as Jonathan slammed into her, his hands locked on her ass, guiding her to ride him as hard and wild as she could. She felt the pleasure hit, fast and devastating—a white-hot rush that tore through her and made her vision blur.

She screamed, her head thrown back, voice ragged and desperate, “Oh fuck, I’m cumming! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Goddd!” Her walls clenched around his thick cock, milking him, her body pulsing with the force of her orgasm.

Jonathan’s hips hammered up into her, relentless, chasing his own release as she came apart in his arms. He growled, voice thick and raw, “That’s it—cum for me, baby. Squeeze my cock just like that. Good fucking girl. Such a perfect little whore for me, aren’t you? Take it all, Penelope—let me feel every fucking drop.”

Her nails raked down his back, her legs trembling as he kept driving into her, stretching her, filling her with every savage thrust. The filthy praise, the power in his hands, the thick stretch of him inside her—it all pushed her orgasm even higher, the pleasure crashing in waves as he pounded her through it.

She collapsed against him, sobbing out his name, still twitching around his cock as he thrust up into her, lost in the wet heat and the wild, reckless need.

As Penelope’s orgasm rippled through her, Jonathan slowed his thrusts, his breathing heavy and deep. Without warning, he gripped her waist and effortlessly flipped her onto her back on the couch, her hair spilling wild across the cushions. He loomed over her, muscles taut, skin gleaming, eyes dark with hungry satisfaction.

His big, dark hands pressed her thighs wide, then slid up, one wrapping gently but firmly around her throat, pinning her in place. The pressure was perfect—possessive, commanding, making her shiver with excitement and surrender.

Jonathan leaned in, his mouth hot against her ear as he growled, “You look so fucking good like this, baby. All spread out for me. Now keep your eyes open—don’t you dare look away.”

He straightened, hand still at her throat, and guided his thick, glistening cock to her entrance. He paused, letting the heavy head rest against her slick folds, making her ache for him all over again.

“Watch me, Penelope,” he demanded, voice dark and rough. “Watch as this big chocolate cock disappears inside your creamy, needy pussy. Watch how you take every inch. See what you do to me.”

Penelope’s eyes locked on the place where their bodies met, breath catching as he pushed in, slow and deliberate. The thick, dark shaft parted her folds, stretching her open all over again, the sight impossibly filthy and beautiful—his cock vanishing inside her, her pale body trembling beneath him.

He pressed his hand a little firmer on her throat, making her feel the pulse of his control, the wild edge of danger and pleasure mingling as he filled her deep. “That’s it, baby. Take it. You look so fucking perfect—so full, so stretched, so fucking mine.”

Penelope moaned, eyes wide, watching herself take every inch of him, every thrust making her even wetter, her body clenching greedily around him.

Jonathan’s grip tightened around Penelope’s throat, his hand hot and firm, the perfect mix of restraint and wild abandon. His hips began to pound faster, harder, driving his thick cock in and out of her slick, swollen pussy, each thrust making her gasp and whimper, her eyes wide and glassy with need.

He leaned down, his dark eyes locked on hers, voice a growling command. “Look at you—taking every inch, letting me ruin you while your husband’s out working his ass off. You ought to feel ashamed, baby. You’re getting fucked by your neighbor, your husband’s best friend, like a cheap whore.”

He let his hand slide up her jaw and then—slap—his palm landed hard against her cheek, stinging and hot, making her gasp and clench even tighter around him.

“You love it, don’t you?” he sneered, hips hammering mercilessly, “You love how filthy this is. Love that I can do whatever I want to you, and you’ll beg for more. Look how desperate you are, taking this cock so deep, letting me fuck you stupid on your own couch.”

He gripped her face, fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her to look down between them, to watch his dark, glistening cock disappear over and over into her creamy folds. “That’s it, watch it, baby. Watch what a shameless little slut you are for me. You’ll never get enough of this, will you?”

Penelope writhed beneath him, her body shaking, shame and ecstasy mingling until she was nothing but pleasure and submission. She moaned, mouth open, her voice raw. “No, Jonathan—oh fuck, I love it. I love your cock. I love being your dirty little secret. Use me—please, don’t stop, don’t ever stop…”

He slapped her face again, gentler this time but full of possessive dominance, then leaned in and spat filth right into her ear. “You’re mine tonight. Just a cock-hungry, cheating wife, begging to get stretched and filled. I want you to cum for me again, Penelope—show me how much you love betraying him for this cock. Scream for me. Let the whole world know what a good little whore you are.”

He hammered into her harder, faster, determined to drive her over the edge once more.

Jonathan’s hand clamped down on Penelope’s throat as he hooked her legs up and back, pushing her knees nearly to her shoulders, folding her open beneath him. He stared down at her, breath ragged, cock pistoning into her soaked, swollen pussy with savage speed. The couch shook beneath them, the air thick with the slap of skin and their shared, desperate moans.

He leaned in, voice a guttural snarl, “I’m gonna fill your pussy up, Penelope. Gonna breed you right here while your husband’s gone. You want it, don’t you? You want me to pump you full of my cum?”

Her answer was a choked scream, her hand flying to her clit, rubbing in frantic, filthy circles as he drove into her harder, deeper, stretching her open with every brutal thrust. “Yes, Jonathan, yes—please, cum in me! Fill me up, ruin me, make me your whore—fuck, I need it, I need it so bad—use my pussy, make it yours, fill me up, fill me up!”

They were both shouting now, voices hoarse and wild, the filth pouring out of them, echoing through the room. Penelope’s head rolled back, her eyes wild, mouth wide with obscene cries: “Fuck me! Breed me! Stuff me full of your cum! I’m just a cock-drunk slut, fuck me harder, harder—please, god, please!”

Jonathan bared his teeth, slamming into her, his voice almost a roar. “Take it, baby. Take every fucking drop. You’re mine now. Gonna cum in this perfect, cheating pussy and make sure you never forget what it’s like to get filled by a real man.”

Penelope’s body seized up, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, muscles clenching so hard around him it almost hurt. She screamed, filthy and wild, her whole body trembling as pleasure exploded through her. “I’m cumming! Oh fuck, I’m cumming—fill me up, fill me up, don’t stop—!”

Jonathan’s rhythm went ragged, every muscle straining as he pressed her legs back, burying himself to the hilt. He roared her name, losing all control, and came hard, pumping thick, hot cum deep inside her, his body shaking as he emptied himself, every thrust searing his claim into her.

They clung together, breathless, animal, tangled in sweat and spit and the mess they’d made of each other—lost in the dark, forbidden heat they’d unleashed.

As their wild cries faded, the only sounds left in the room were their ragged breathing and the faint, wet slide of Jonathan still moving gently inside her. His big body hovered over Penelope, the tension melting away, leaving only heat and trembling satisfaction. He loosened his grip on her throat, his hand tracing softly along her jaw, his other palm soothing the red prints on her thigh where he’d held her wide open.

Jonathan leaned down, brushing his lips softly over her forehead, her cheeks, then her swollen mouth. Penelope sighed into the kiss, arms wrapping around his thick neck, her long legs still folded up by her sides. Their tongues met slowly, sweetly, tasting each other, exploring with new gentleness after the storm.

He kept rocking his hips, slow and shallow, savoring the feel of her still clutching him deep inside, warm and slick, their bodies refusing to let go. “You’re perfect,” he murmured against her lips, his voice a deep, satisfied rumble. “So fucking perfect.”

Penelope smiled, breathless and glowing, pressing soft kisses to his jaw and cheek, her fingers tracing lazy patterns down his back. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, not ready for him to leave her, loving the aftershocks, the ache, the closeness.

He smiled back, nuzzling her neck, letting their kisses turn slow and dreamy, hips moving just enough to keep them connected, to make her moan quietly against his mouth. They melted into each other—still tangled, still hungry, but wrapped now in something sweeter: the soft hum of pleasure, the comfort of skin on skin, the delicious secret they now shared.

For a while, they just breathed each other in, tongues meeting, hands stroking and exploring gently, every kiss a promise that the night was far from over.