Caught by the Convicts

It’s also obvious that she’s determined to fight his magnetism.

“Please leave,” she says, pushing at Klay’s shoulders. “I don’t want you here. What happened between the three of us…it was a mistake. Momentary insanity. I-I was just scared and overwhelmed by the riot and my adrenaline was spiking and—”

“Wendy,” Klay croons, taking hold of her wrists and pinning them above her head, then lowering his open mouth to exhale roughly into the crook of her neck. “You aren’t trying to convince us that you didn’t love every second of your first fuck, are you? We were all there to feel the sweet shake of your thighs. We all heard you whimper through an orgasm.” Klay hits me with a glance where I stand in the bedroom doorway. “Ruger, didn’t she leave a helping of cream all over your big dick?”

“Yes,” I rasp, wetting my lips. Rubbing myself through the fly of my pants.

Klay hums low and long, shifting his lower body against Wendy’s hips.

Her breath catches. Stutters out.

But she still twists, digging her heels into the bed in an attempt to gain her freedom. “I can’t. I c-can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Klay says smoothly, easily keeping her pinned, his mouth raking up and down the side of her neck. “You want me to fuck you, Wendy,” he croons in her ear, his voice dropped to baritone level. “Stop pretending otherwise.”

Her head writhes side to side. “No.”

With a low rumble of frustration, Klay gathers both of her wrists in his left hand. Then he trails the right one down, down between them, shoving his big hand into her panties, his fingers moving in long strokes beneath the white cotton. “You want it. You want to be fucked.”

“I…I…”

It’s obvious when Klay sinks one or more fingers inside of her cunt, because she cries out and now, now I can see his wrist flexing, hand moving inside of her underwear. He’s finger banging her. And I have to grip the doorway or risk my legs giving out, the scene is so erotic. So charged and raw. They are forehead to forehead, both of them panting, Klay’s hand moving relentlessly between her thighs. I don’t know a lot about women, but even I know her resistance isn’t completely authentic. She wants my best friend. Of course she does.

“You want to be ridden now,” Klay says thickly against her mouth. Before she can respond with another protest, he slants his lips over hers. He invades her. Licks his tongue into her mouth—and almost immediately, her pussy starts making wet sounds. It squelches with every pump of Klay’s finger. And slowly, she starts to kiss him back. Hesitantly at first and then she makes a sharp sound of surrender, openly her mouth wide, allowing it to be taken.

Mewling for it. Giving in.

Klay knees her thighs open and presses his fingers deeper, breaking the kiss with an almost stunned expression. “God. God. Tight doesn’t even begin to describe this little pussy.” His intense eyes whip in my direction, knocking the breath out of my lungs. “Ruger. Come over here and take off her panties for me.” While I make my way across the room to the bed, he kisses her long and hard. “We’re going to finish what we started, aren’t we, baby?”

A beat passes. Two. “Yes,” she whispers.

Triumph fills me. For Klay. For the three of us.

I allow my palms to slide up and over Wendy’s knees, traveling higher to her smooth thighs, gripping the sides of her white panties and stripping them down her legs. And I almost come in my pants and the sight of Klay’s middle and ring finger sunk into her pussy. Thrusting in and out, her flesh drenched around his knuckles. “Undo my pants,” he says raggedly. “She’s finally admitted she wants it. I’m not giving her a chance to change her mind.”

There’s a harsh, labored sound filling the room and I realize it’s coming from me. I’m breathing like I’ve just run ten miles, sweat beginning to soak the front of my shirt. When I move to stand beside Klay, reaching for the straining zipper of his pants, my fingers are clumsy. Mired in lust, I barely have any dexterity and…and I’ve never had my hands this close to Klay’s cock before. I’ve seen it, of course. We grew up together. But it’s one thing to look at it covertly from the corner of my eye, and another to drag my fingers down the swollen front of it.

But that’s what I do. It’s what I have to do, in order to lower the zipper.

Do I imagine the way he pauses in the act of kissing Wendy?

Do I imagine the guttural sound he makes when I drag my knuckles down his bulge?

Both of us expel a heavy breath when his dick springs out, slapping down onto Wendy’s belly. Klay glances to the side—at me—right at me. Humping the curve of Wendy’s hip, still finger fucking her so thoroughly and without cease, she’s started to writhe and whine his name, her knees lifting up to hug his hips. “Klay. Klay.”