Blake didn’t stop. If anything, he slowed down, grinding with a torturous, tectonic rhythm. He rolled his hips in filthy circles, ensuring every thick ridge of his shaft dragged against the internal walls of my pussy, pressing right against the spot that made my vision blur.

The sunroom door slid open a foot. Auntie Lisa was right there, standing just on the other side of the glass, staring in.

I forced my voice out—shaky, but fighting for a semblance of normalcy. “Hey! Yeah… I’m on the phone. Mom’s not back yet?”

Blake’s hand slid down, his thumb finding my clit and beginning a series of slow, mean circles while he...