The sound of her own voice, raw and desperate, hung in the air for a split second before Marc gave her exactly what she’d screamed for. He drove into her with a single, brutal thrust that buried his entire length in one violent, perfect motion. The bench scraped against the patio stones with the force of it. Julie’s cry was ripped from her, a sharp, unfiltered sound of ecstasy that sliced through the polite party chatter, silencing it.
Marc. Fucking. Her. Right here.
His hands locked on her hips, his grip so tight she knew it would leave dark, possessive bruises on her skin. He didn’t start a rhythm; he established a fucking law. His hips pistoned against her ass, a relentless, pounding force that shook her entire body. The wet, obscene sound of their coupling was louder than the rustling leaves, a lewd announcement of what was happening under the party lights.
“You feel that, Julie?” he growled, his voice a low, vicious rumble meant only for her and the frozen, horrified Jim. “You feel how deep I’m planting myself in this fertile fucking cunt? You feel how this pussy was made for my cock and nothing else?”
“Yes! God, yes!” she sobbed, her fingers clawing at the wooden slats of the bench. Her world had dissolved into sensation: the burning stretch of him filling her, the rough texture of his slacks against her bare thighs, the hot evening air on her exposed back, and the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that at any second, a guest could walk around the umbrella and see everything.
His thrusts were shorter now, harder, each one a deliberate, grinding impact against her cervix. “You want my seed again, don’t you, you greedy fucking bitch?” he snarled. “You want me to pump another baby into this well-used womb? To put a brother or sister in there for my son?”
From the corner of her watering eyes, she saw Jim. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring, his face a pale, twisted mask of humiliation and undeniable arousal, his hand still pressed against the obvious bulge in his trousers. He was getting off on this. On her public ruin. The sight of it, the sheer fucking taboo of it all, sent a fresh flood of wetness around Marc’s driving cock.
“Yes!” she screamed, her voice breaking. The party was dead silent now. Someone’s glass shattered on the stone patio. Nobody moved to clean it up. “I want it! I want your fucking seed, Marc! I want you to breed me! Put another baby in me! Fill my fucking married pussy with your come!”
Marc’s laugh was a dark, triumphant sound. He leaned over her, his broad chest pressing against her sweaty back, one hand snaking around to cup her milk-heavy breast. He pinched her nipple, hard, and a sharp bolt of pleasure-pain made her jump, clenching around him. “You hear that, Jim?” Marc called out, his voice carrying effortlessly. “Your wife is begging for my child. Again. She wants to swell with my baby while she sleeps in your bed.”
Jim made a sound, a strangled, pathetic groan. It was the sound of a man whose fantasy had metastasized into a nightmare he was secretly jerking off to.
Marc’s pace became frantic, animalistic. He was pounding into her now, his control shattering into pure, raw need. The bench was rocking violently. Julie could feel the climax coiling in her core, a white-hot wire pulled taut, ready to snap. His fingers found her clit, rubbing rough, perfect circles that shoved her right to the edge.
“I’m gonna come!” she shrieked, no longer caring who heard, who saw, who knew. “I’m gonna come on your cock, Marc! Please!”
“You come when I fucking tell you to come, ” he grunted, his voice strained with his own impending release. “You hold it. You hold that fucking orgasm until I’m ready to pour my load into you.”
The command was torture. She was right there, teetering on the precipice, her body screaming for release. She bit down on her own arm to keep from screaming, her entire body trembling with the effort of holding back. Marc fucked her through the unbearable tension, his thrusts becoming shallow, grinding, desperate. She could feel him swelling inside her, pulsing, getting ready to unleash.
“Now, Julie, ” he finally roared, his voice a guttural command that felt like it shook the very ground. “Come all over my fucking cock!”
The permission shattered her. Her orgasm exploded through her with the force of a detonation, wiping out every thought, every sound, every shred of dignity. Her inner muscles clamped down on him in violent, rhythmic spasms, milking his cock, pulling the release from him. She screamed, a raw, continuous sound of absolute surrender as the waves of pleasure wracked her body.
Feeling her convulse around him, Marc buried himself to the hilt with a final, driving thrust. A feral growl erupted from his chest as he started to come. She felt the hot, urgent pulse of his release, jet after jet after jet, flooding her depths, claiming her all over again. He held himself there, grinding against her, pumping every last drop of his seed into her willing, fertilized womb.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged, gasping breaths and the distant, stunned silence of the party. Marc stayed inside her, his weight a heavy, possessive anchor. He slowly pulled out, the sensation of his thick cock leaving her well-fucked, dripping pussy making her whimper at the sudden emptiness.
He turned her head, forcing her to look at Jim. Her husband’s eyes were glazed, his face ashen. A dark, wet spot stained the front of his trousers.
Marc’s lips were at her ear, his voice a low, victorious whisper. “Look at him, Julie. Look at your husband. He just came in his pants watching me fuck another baby into you.”
He stepped back, tucking his softening cock away with an arrogance that was absolute. He didn’t even look at the stunned partygoers now beginning to murmur behind them. His eyes were only on his property.
“Clean yourself up, ” he commanded her, his voice cool and dismissive. “You’re dripping my cum all over your host’s patio.”