“You took it here, didn’t you?” I ask. “The dirty photo.”
Her eyes are full of devilment. She marches up to me and plants her boot in the mud about a foot away. “Here,” she says. “I stood right here and I thought of you.”
“What did you think about?” Michael asks, and I’m sure there’s a thickness to his voice.
Carrie laughs before she answers. “I thought about showing you the selfie. I thought about how angry you might be if you knew I was flashing my tits around the countryside.”
“There’s nobody about to see them,” I counter.
But she grins.
“There is today,” Michael says, and she nods.
I think I’m beyond surprises at this point, but I’m not. The way he closes the distance between them and unzips her coat is nothing short of ferocious. She gasps as he tugs down her nice clean cami and her bra with it, offering up her pretty tits without hesitation.
“I want you out here,” she says. “I want you both out here. It’s where I belong.”
Mike takes her jeans down to her knees. He drops her onto the mud and guides her onto all fours like a man possessed.
I don’t understand it until I hear him speak.
“This is how I dreamt of you,” he tells her. “With your knees in the mud and the wind in your face.”
I can’t help but grin as he takes out his dick and he’s rock hard.
Carrie flattens her tits to the floor, the ground against her cheek. “Take me,” she hisses and he drops down behind her.
I dig my dick out of my jeans and gawp like a fucking idiot, but this is their time. Their moment.
She lets out a moan as he pushes inside her, and he grunts like a starving man over dinner. He drops his weight onto her, crushing her flat to the ground as her thighs struggle to open wide enough.
“You’re so tight like this,” he says, and his movements are slow and deep as he savours it. Savours every fucking second.
“Never stop loving me,” she hisses, like there’s any fucking chance of either of us giving this up.
The girl’s pussy is the Holy Grail.
She stares up at me as he fucks her, smiling as I work my dick in my hand.
She stares up at me like she can see inside my soul, and I remember what a little mind-reader she is.
And in that moment, I know that she sees how much I like watching him fuck her.
This is way beyond sharing for me.
This is way beyond a needs must situation.
This is about the three of us now.
Michael fucks her, blissfully unaware of my changing emotions. He fucks her until she squirms underneath him, whimpering and mewling as he slams into the right spot.
She comes loud, and she’s filthy when she’s finished, her cheek smeared with mud, her cami top green with grass stains.
And Michael’s fresh cum dribbling down her thighs when she gets up.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carrie
It’s warm in the middle, wedged tight between two hot bodies in Jack’s bed. I love it here.
I try not to remember it’s Sunday night and they’ll be back at work again in the morning.
Jack’s hand is on my stomach, Michael’s is in mine. One of my legs hooks Jack’s, the other hooks his.
I should be exhausted but I’m not. I should be ready for sleep after an afternoon trekking through fields, my pussy sore from taking Michael again earlier.
But I’m not.
I want them both again and I want them now. I can’t get enough of them.
I can’t get enough of them loving me. Wanting me. Taking care of me.
I can’t get enough of the way I know they’ll pull me back in line whenever I get too much, either.
Rough. That’s what I want.
Rough and strong and dirty.
My two dirty daddies.
I must manage an hour or two of trying to sleep before it gets too much. Jack’s rolled onto his side, facing me, his breath even against my cheek.
Michael is still on his back, rigid as he stares up at the ceiling.
I know he’s awake. I know he’s still churning with all of this.
His hand is still in mine until I pull free and run my fingers up his arm.
I don’t speak, not with my mouth anyway. It’s my hand that glides across his body, feeling every ridge of him, as though I’m trying to prove to myself he’s really here.
The months I spent thinking about him come flooding back. Nights of playing with my pussy until I couldn’t take any more. Months of imagining him naked under his suit.
And now he’s here.
This weekend he’s really here and he’s really mine.
His breath quickens as I stroke my hand down his belly. His muscles are tight and lean, tightening further as my hand moves lower.
Jack was right, I’m a dirty girl. My clit is already thrumming for more, my nipples sensitive, even against the soft cotton bedding.