Fucking The Neighbors

Ryan pushes his wife Kiki against the kitchen counter. They’ve been married three years and still fuck, but lately it’s started to feel like a handshake. When Aviover wanders over from next door in nothing but cut-offs and a thin tank top, both of them feel something snap back into place. Kiki’s voice is low. “Door’s open.” He steps inside. Ryan doesn’t waste time; he reaches for the girl’s waist and spins her so she faces Kiki, then presses himself into her from behind. Aviover’s nipples stiffen under the cotton, two hard points. Kiki slides her fingers beneath the tank and lifts it off, letting the small, freckled breasts bounce free. She leans in, bites the left nipple, sucks hard enough to leave a mark. Ryan frees his cock, slaps it against Aviover’s ass once, twice, loud in the quiet kitchen. He pushes her forward until her belly touches the counter and Kiki’s hand is already between her thighs, two fingers knuckle-deep and working. Kiki holds Aviover open while Ryan sinks into her slow and deep, every inch dragged through tight heat. Aviover gasps—more a choke than a moan—and Kiki swallows the sound with a bruising kiss. They fuck her like they’ve done this before. Ryan’s hips slap against flesh. Kiki keeps her fingers busy on Aviover’s clit, circling fast, then slow, then fast again. When Aviover comes, her knees give; Ryan catches her around the waist, keeps pumping until he spills hot and thick inside her. Kiki drops to her knees, tongue licking the overflow as it drips down Aviover’s trembling thighs. She stands again, kisses Ryan with Aviover’s taste on her mouth, and they both know the boredom’s gone.