The Coat Room

She’s bent over, skirt bunched at her hips, Oliver’s cock punching deep into her ass when the doorknob rattles. Tommy King freezes, then slams the closet door shut behind her, one eye at the crack. Charles Dera steps inside. He sees his wife. Sees her flushed face. She straightens, thighs glistening, and kisses him hard enough to taste another man on her tongue. His belt hits the floor before he can ask questions. She drops, takes him to the back of her throat, gags once, then twice, spit stringing from chin to balls. Behind the louvered slats Oliver strokes himself to the same rhythm, silent, watching. She turns, spreads, and Charles slams into the same hole that’s still slick from his guest. He doesn’t notice. He grunts, grips her waist, drives until his load floods her and leaks down her thigh. Tommy bites her knuckle to stay quiet as the closet fills with the smell of sweat and sex. Charles zips up, satisfied, and leaves. The second the door shuts, Oliver steps out, spins her, and adds his own load, thick and hot, right beside the first.