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He flips through the papers after lunch, same as always. I watch him for a minute, then I decide I’ve had enough. My ass is throbbing, empty, and I’m done waiting. I step between his chair and the table, pull my panties down, and bend forward so he gets the full view. He drops the paper. His fingers find my hole straight away, pressing, testing how tight I still am. I push back, asking for more without a word. He stands, frees his cock, and slides two fingers deeper. The stretch burns in the best way. When he pulls them out I’m already slick and open. He lines up and pushes in slow, then deeper, until his hips meet my ass. I moan, loud, because it feels filthy and exactly what I need. He doesn’t rush. He fucks my ass with steady, hard strokes, one hand gripping my hip, the other reaching around to rub my clit. Every thrust knocks a little breath out of me. I ask for the second cock without saying it—just by spreading wider, by the way my body begs. He understands. He brings in the other guy already hard, and they take turns in my ass until I’m shaking. One slides beneath me on the couch. I sink down onto him, pussy full now, while the first stays buried in my ass. Double penetration, tight and relentless. They move together, filling both holes at once, the friction almost too much. My body rocks between them, caught, used, exactly how I wanted it. The newspapers stay on the floor, forgotten, while my tiny back door finally gets the rough treatment it was aching for.