Our Day Off

Isiah and Zoey keep their day job at a safe distance once a month. They kill the notifications, dim the lights, and fuck like the rest is nothing. Long nights when sweat turns their skin slick and every moan earns its volume. Lately, the job has clawed at Isiah's time. His attention drifts off to spreadsheets and deadlines. Zoey's noticed. She hungers. Needs him back in her body the way he used to own it. This month she plans a fix. Amari stands just inside the bedroom door when Isiah walks in, hair still damp from the shower. Zoey's naked on the sheets, thighs parted. One look is all it takes before the blood leaves his head and rushes south. No greetings, just hands. Zoey grips his belt first, jerking it open while Amari steps behind him, palms sliding under his shirt. Buttons pop. Fabric drops. He tries to keep his voice even but a raw sound slips through when Zoey's mouth finds the head of his cock. Amari's breasts press warm against his back as her fingers trail down his spine. They move him to the bed like a shared secret. Zoey straddles his face, grinding against his tongue while Amari sinks onto him, slow and tight, squeezing every inch on the way down. Each thrust drags a new curse from his throat. Zoey leans forward, kissing Amari open-mouthed, sharing the taste of him. He clutches both women by the hips, driving upward, sweat slicking his chest and stomach. When Zoey climbs off his face and kneels beside them, Amari twists, takes her place over his mouth again. The new angle lets Zoey slide her slick cunt along the thick ridge of his cock without taking it in, teasing, riding the shaft until he growls her name into Amari's pussy. He flips them both. Amari on her stomach, ass high, back arched. Zoey lies beneath her, tonguing her nipples while Isiah fucks into her from behind, hard enough to jolt the bedframe. Every stroke shoves Amari's breasts into Zoey's mouth. His hand finds Zoey's throat, holding her in place while he slams home. The headboard cracks the plaster. When he finally pulls out, seed glistens white across Amari's spine. Zoey slides out from under to lick him clean, then leans up to spit the taste into Amari's open mouth. They finish breathless, limbs tangled, phones still dark on the nightstand, nothing left between any of them but the slow pulse of aftershock.