Realtor's Double-Dealing

Celeste leaned against the marble island, skirt hiked, while Roger’s hands roamed beneath it. They’d been sneaking these visits for weeks, and the realtor knew every inch of her already. When Sam stepped out to look upstairs, Roger didn’t waste time; he pushed her thong aside and slid two fingers straight into her slick heat, working her open with the same quiet confidence he used when talking square footage. They moved to the dining table, her top peeled down, breasts spilling into his palms. He bent her forward, tongue flicking across each stiff nipple before spinning her around and pressing her chest to the polished wood. Two slick fingers breached her ass, twisting, stretching, making her gasp and push back for more. She was still rocking on those fingers when the front door clicked open again. Sam stood in the doorway, silent. Celeste froze, Roger’s hand still buried between her cheeks. Instead of anger, Sam’s eyes darkened with something hotter. He stepped closer, already unbuckling his belt. “Keep going,” he said. Celeste’s shock melted into a slow, hungry smile. She reached for him, drew him in, and the three of them tangled without another wasted word. Sam took her mouth while Roger stayed behind her, fingers never leaving her ass. When Sam’s cock replaced Roger’s hand, the realtor slicked himself and pressed in alongside, the two men stretching her together until she shook between them. Every thrust drove her higher; every shared groan filled the empty rooms like a secret finally spoken out loud.