Pregnant Couple's Depraved Cravings

The couple arrived first thing, knocks soft but they stood too close in the doorway. Seth wasn’t even trying to hide the way he glanced at Anna de Ville’s mouth. His wife, Charlotte, watched too, her hand low across her belly as she smiled like she already knew how the morning would play out. Coaching instructions turned tangled when Seth slid behind the instructor. His palm caught her waist then slipped down, and Charlotte only grinned, giving a little nod. Anna froze, every nerve lit, heart thumping straight to her throat. They didn’t want diagrams or drills. Seth wanted her. And Charlotte—who struggled to feel anything lately—wanted to watch. Wanted to push them together until something snapped. Anna swallowed hard but the yes felt ready before it even left her tongue. Charlotte’s hands moved first. They brought Anna down, guided her knees apart on the rug, then gripped the back of her neck and eased her toward Seth’s lap. The pregnant wife held her there, mouth near Anna’s ear, whispering what her husband liked and how to take him deeper. Thick heat met Anna’s lips. She opened, relaxed, Charlotte’s thumb stroking at the hinge of her jaw to coax the rhythm. Spit slicked everything fast. Seth’s cock pulsed, angry red at the head, and Charlotte reached between Anna’s legs. Wet heat on her fingers. Anna gasped around the thickness and was pulled up by the hips, angled, opened wider. Seth slid in hard. Charlotte braced her, nudging him deeper, nails biting skin when the thrust got rough. Sweat glistened over Charlotte’s swollen belly as she watched him take Anna, then switched grip, cupped her husband’s balls, squeezed rhythm into his hips. Every push made Anna bite her lip raw. Every moan bounced sharp against old textbooks lined on the shelf. It became filthier still—Charlotte directing Seth’s hand to Anna’s throat, teaching the squeeze that made the small instructor tighten everywhere around him, clenching through one long tremor. Then she fed two of her own fingers into Anna’s mouth so she tasted them both while her pussy gripped him to the root. Charlotte’s guidance never faltered, voice low and filthy as she steered them toward the couch, bent Anna over, slapped her husband’s length against soaked folds and urged him back in again. Furniture rocked. Sweat slicked Anna’s ribs, then Charlotte’s, then Seth’s stomach. The scent of slick sex and latex toys leftover from coaching replaced the city air in the room. The instructor came first, white-knuckled on the cushions, Charlotte holding her hair so she couldn’t hide the sounds. Seth followed, pounding until his cock jumped inside, painting her deep while his wife sighed like relief finally touched her too. After, sticky thighs, weak knees. No one checked a clock. The missed prenatal schedule lay open and forgotten on the table. Charlotte leaned in, kissed Anna slow and open-mouthed, tasting every pulse of what they’d just taken. All three knew the next coaching session, whenever it happened, would finish the same way: filthy, raw, and impossible to forget.