The Return Of Alyson Queen In A Wild 3Some

Alyson and Jon had plans for nothing more than skin, heat, and heat alone. Their bedroom was soft light and low sheets, her nipples tight against his bare chest, her hand already down his boxers when the knock landed like a slap across the moment. Rick—neighbor, middle-of-the-week nothing—stood on the other side of the door while they were three seconds from naked. She answered anyway. Door cracked, breasts half-hidden under the silk pajama top, thighs bare below the hem. His eyes dropped, found everything they weren't meant to. She let him look. Then she let him in. The door shut and the air changed. Rick didn't waste time with talk; his mouth went straight to her neck while Jon watched from the bed, cock thick against cotton. She pulled the silk off in one hard motion, dropped to her knees, took both of them—slow on Jon, rougher on Rick until she was slick and breathless and nobody was pretending this was polite. They got her on the mattress, Jon beneath her, Rick behind, one cock sliding up into her dripping cunt, the other pressing against her ass until they had her stretched and shaking and moaning like she wanted the whole hallway to hear. Rick gripped her hips and Jon held her jaw, lips hot at her throat, fingers working her clit until her body locked and the room filled with the wet sound of two men using her between them. She came twice like that, raw and loud, before they did—one deep inside, one across her tits—and she just lay there, wrecked, smiling, leg still trembling against the sheets.