Indirect continuation from the original story, sets up for culminating Part 3. Based on a true story. Everyone is 18+.
Her pussy itched.
Cherie’s slender index finger slid down the damp crotch of her skin-tight, acid-wash denim shorts into the heat of her groin. Her hard, french-manicured nail pushed against the taught fabric of her shorts, only just catching the fold of her labia.
Her slim lips - adorned with Cherie’s trademark hotrod-red lipstick - pulled into a joyful smile as she felt the summer afternoon’s wind pushing itself through her wavy, long blonde hair.
With a rush of pleasure, and a hearty flex of her finger, the itch was scratched.
Replacing her hand on the leather-wrapped steering wheel of her sleek red convertible, Cherie returned her focus to the empty, pothole-laden road unravelling before her.
Maggie’s gonna be so surprised! She thought, nearly snorting with laughter, as she imagined the look on her old friend’s face when she unexpectedly showed up at her door.
The old college friends - and mutual maids-of-honour - hadn’t spoken outside of email in years. But, with Cherie’s family staying at her sister’s nearby cottage for the first time, the mother of three couldn’t help but abandon an afternoon shopping trip - and a suddenly sick eldest daughter - and make an effort to see her former roommate.
The car gave a sharp squeal as Cherie jerked it to the left - a rush of a adrenaline pushing through her chest as she felt it fighting to grip the concrete below - her legs squeezing together in a whole-hearted effort to steady the curvy woman in her seat as she navigated a new, tree-lined side road.
Blood rushed into her loins.
After a few winding turns, a sprawling cottage - adorned with floor-to-ceiling tinted windows on all sides - roared into view.
Cherie’s jaw dropped.
The cottage’s cobblestone driveway came to a looping end several metres in front of the main entrance: a pair of tall oak doors sporting a single, circular brass handle roughly waist-high off the ground.
The car jerked to a stop in front of them, finding itself suspiciously alone at the end of the expansive, secluded property.
Worry fluttered in Cherie’s chest at the prospect of her hour-long drive having been an utter waste. With a nervous gulp she threw one of her curvy legs out the car door and pushed herself out of the vehicle.
She came to an unintentionally seductive, crossed-legged pose beside the car - the mid-summer sun attacking her exposed skin with its unfiltered, radiant heat. Hot, sticky sweat began to seep from her every pore - sliding between her breasts, down the crevices of her back, and building inside the folds of her bunched labia.
Every muscle in her body pulled as she pushed her arms to the clear blue sky, alleviating any residual stiffness from the drive. Her natural, D-sized breasts struggled against the soft yellow athletic top hugging her skin.
With a quick bend at the hips she plunged back into the car for her iPhone - a fleeting breeze tickling her groin - a quick glance at which made her skin boil.
The screen was filled with angry messages from her husband - Steven, a middle-aged deadbeat who was spending increasingly larger amounts of time travelling for work, and increasingly less time with her and the girls - informing her that she should enjoy her last weekend of freedom before he returned from his latest business trip. At which point he promised to take away her credit cards, the convertible, and essentially lock her in the house.
“Fucking asshole,” she whispered with seething vitriol as the phone was forcefully lobbed onto the caramel-coloured leather seat.
Shaking herself back to the present moment, Cherie used the massive window beside the front door to check her hair, and then reached for the doorbell.
Which she couldn’t find.
With a puzzled expression she scanned the immaculately simple doorway - not a button in sight.
With a huff she coiled her arms before her supple breasts - the nipples of which had become hard from her nervous excitement, and dug into her forearms ever-so-gently - thinking about her next move.
She tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge.
As the frustrating thought of turning back slipped into her mind, she had another idea.
Turning on a dime - nearly tripping in her highlighter-pink sneakers - Cherie marched to the right and headed for the back of the house.
The journey was relatively easy, as a path made of beautiful grey stones - lined with exotic shrubs and flowers of every colour imaginable, and exuding the most succulent of scents - showed the way around the house; leading past two sharp corners, and spitting her out into a small, secluded courtyard area shaped like a “U”.
The minimalist courtyard had a small reading bench, a few slim trees pushing up from the stone slabs which lined the ground, and was anchored by a large, black door which seemed to push out from the tinted-window wall to her left.
Then she heard it.
The sound of muffled pounding danced around Cherie’s confused face like rain dribbling from eavestrough.
Her legs turned to rubber as she spun around to face the door - her ears straining to find the source of the intermittent noise.
For a moment she stood still, her body awash in nerves.
THUD-THUD-THUD.
It called again from the other side of the door - sounding as if someone’s skull was being unceremoniously slammed into a concrete slab.
Heat pushed itself throughout her frame as she felt her feet robotically moving towards the doorway.
What if Maggie is in trouble? She asked herself.
The noise grew louder as she approached from directly behind the door - but it wasn't alone.
Urgent, muffled grunting seeped through the black windows and into the hot air.
Cherie’s heart skipped in her well-endowed chest.
With a trembling hand she reached for the silver, circular doorknob.
It didn’t budge.
More groans pushed into the courtyard - this time louder, more panicked.
And notably pleasureful.
Cherie’s pulse started racing. Her pussy started thStevenbing. She pressed her face against the glass.
More desperate groans filled the air.
Barely able to see through the tint, Cherie cupped her trembling hands around her face.
A horrified gasp escaped her gaping lips - her breath fogging the window beneath her gaze - as the woman’s shocked eyes fell into a small, modernly furnished bedroom decorated in shades of grey.
There, on the opposite wall, was a beautiful woman getting mercilessly pounded from behind by a slender man.
Cherie’s blood drained from her skull - rushing directly to her loins - as she watched the woman struggle to stand against the relentless thrusting of her lover’s small buttocks.
He lay into her like a jackhammer - each powerful thrust sending the woman’s skin rippling across her body - a smattering of incoherent groans falling from her pouted lips.
Cherie - having not felt a man’s touch in nearly 2 years - had to collect herself. With a purposeful sigh her lungs filled with thick, humid air. Feeling focus return to her on the ragged exhale, it didn’t take her long to recognize Maggie.
Despite having not seen her taller, fuller, and darker-skinned friend in nearly a decade, Cherie could spot Maggie’s shoulder tattoo anywhere. The Asian calligraphy translating to “Fertile” - a marking chosen after birthing a 6th child from her ex-husband - was unmistakable.
The woman’s bronzed, sweat-soaked body showed every one of those children:
Sun-kissed stretch marks shivered as her skin sagged slightly from her quivering frame - her lover’s fingers hungrily digging themselves into the excess flesh of Maggie’s hips, seemingly ripping her skin from the evident muscle hiding beneath as he lustfully forced himself deeper into her.
Another savage grunt left her lips as her lover - with his back to Cherie - grabbed a fistful of Maggie’s dirty blonde hair and plunged himself deeper into the chubby woman’s engorged sex.
Cherie felt dizzy as she watched a droplet of fluid trickle down from Maggie’s stretched, well manicured opening, fall down across the back of her bronzed thigh, and settle into the back of her knee.
As the man’s head pulled backwards in a brief moment of rapture, Cherie felt one of her hands travelling down the front of her firm stomach, and slip beneath the band of her floral-patterned, white lace briefs.
She trembled at the feeling of her own wetness dampening the untrimmed brown hair decorating her pussy.
Maggie’s eyes were closed. Her hands pressed firmly above either side of the fireplace. Her hair was strewn across her face as it pressed into the light grey wall with tremendous force - her lips crunched together on the right hand side, lipstick rubbing off on the wall.
Cherie’s fingers were rubbing her clit.
Maggie’s emerald blue eyes exploded open as the man drew his hand to her neck and clamped down. Cherie gasped as the muscles in his arm torqued - her friend’s face turning a deep shade of purple as spit drizzled down her rounded chin. Just as Maggie started to squirm - and Cherie’s pussy started to quiver - the man released his grip.
Maggie crumpled to the floor - gasping for air against the fireplace’s glass covering.
Cherie was knuckle-deep in her twat, her sharp nail doing wondrous things to the spongey walnut just inside her vagina - pulses of blissful electricity shooting through her abdomen.
As if they had done it a hundred times before, Maggie rolled onto her back - shooting her lover an intensely sultry, longing gaze - and spread her legs as wide as they would reach.
Cherie couldn’t help but marvel at Maggie’s beautifully slim, sagging, E-sized breasts - complete with ferocious blue veins around the areola, and silver, circular piercings through each of the nipples.
The voyeur’s mouth found itself watering.
Maggie’s lover must’ve felt the same, as he shot down onto all fours, and aggressively sucked each of her friend’s tits for several seconds - his stubby fingers finding their way deep into her sex.
For a quick second he slipped his entire hand into her soaked hole - to which Maggie squealed in joyous reply.
The woman’s face shifted quickly as her lover hastily repositioned himself, aligned their hips, and pushed his pelvis to hers - effortlessly sliding back into her depths.
Maggie’s expression spoke volumes - mouth open, head back - her eyes rolling into her skull with such relief it was as if a missing piece of her had been returned; her hands dug into his olive-toned flesh, the long, purple nails of her fingers carving deep etches into his skin; her small, dainty mouth parted to allow her teeth to sink into the flexing muscle of his shoulder.
Cherie’s knees fell weak. Her breaths grew shallow. The back of her hand burned against the waist of her shorts. She fell hard to the ground - bumping loudly against the glass - her fingers not skipping a beat as they pumped in and out of her soaked fuck hole.
Maggie’s eyes darted to the window, doubling in size.
Cherie stopped breathing - embarrassment burning into her as the woman realized she had been found - her fingers slowing to a gentle series of strokes.
The voyeur shook as an exaggerated breath tumbled from her throat.
Her friend’s mouth slowly twisted into a devious smile.
She reached into her lover’s hair with a stretch of her elegant hand, squeezed his damp, dark-brown mop, and pressed his panting face towards hers. Roughly pushing her lips to his ear Maggie whispered something - her eyes unmoved from the glass - as her long legs wrapped themselves around the man’s waist.
He nodded slowly - hesitantly.
She pulled her eyes from Cherie’s, and looked directly into his - nodding quickly, reassuringly.
The man reached between his legs.
Cherie’s fingers resumed their torrid pace at the sight of a severely used condom being strewn to the floor.
The woman outside release a guttural groan as an orgasm - the first she had had in years - gripped her sweating body.
The man fell back into Maggie with the utmost of ease, performed three probing thrusts into the trembling woman, and then held his shaking pelvis against her for a few tense, silent moments.
Cherie was covered in sweat, pins-and-needles on the inside, and glued to the hot glass.
The man pulled himself from Maggie with a laborious grunt and fell to the floor beside her, rolling out of their voyeur’s view.
Only Maggie’s swollen, gaping pussy - oozing with a thick, white substance - greeted Cherie’s tearful eyes.
Maggie winked at her old friend as, just before her now standing lover broke the two woman’s gaze, she spun onto the floor, clenched her legs together and whipped them into the air -coming to a rest in a near headstand, pointed upwards overtop of the fireplace.
Cherie’s own, still fertile ovaries lurched with understanding.
Then her bewildered eyes landed on the man’s legs.
They quickly moved up his thighs, past his limp cock - which dripped with white ooze, his spunk, and tiny bits of blood - and all the way to his face.
Cherie tumbled backwards as her husband’s astonished eyes stared back at her.