Sleight of Hand - Sex Stories

Sleight of Hand

... her. Jenna tried to match him with a response but was unable to think straight. It all just felt too good. The rhythm of his fucking was gradually picking up speed and intensity, bumping her shoulders against the stockade’s rear face. She tried to hold herself away but the muscles in her arms quickly became too tired, followed shortly by those in her legs. Tristan, sensing that her body had begun to sag, reached under her belly to hold her up. His fucking became more enthusiastic and started to ram her shoulders into the boards with greater impact, generating those wet, slapping sounds that can only be created between sweaty flesh and a hard, smooth surface. They both began to moan and groan loudly, the sounds of their sex echoing around the studio space. His fucking and her bucking grew in intensity as they both became increasingly lost to their animalistic urges. “I’ve always wanted a full-time assistant that was also a part-time slut,” he said to her. At the sound of that word, Jenna felt her body melt. Unbeknownst to anyone but herself, she absolutely loved dirty name calling during sex. The filthier and the more humiliating the name, the wetter it made her. Practically gushing from the word, she responded, “Yeah? You like fucking your little slut assistant? Show me what you like to do to this dirty slut’s pussy.” Tristan, inspired and encouraged, started to fuck her hard and faster, the slaps from each thrust ringing out around them. Moans and heavy breathing rang ...

... loudly under the clean, buzzing lights of the studio’s center space. It was no wonder that when Brandon returned, neither of them heard. He had stood there for a moment, in shock, before deciding to stick around and enjoy the show. “Oh, oh fuck me,” she moaned. This wasn’t the first time that someone had screwed underneath these studio lights. In fact, several of the usual clients included adult websites and x-rated video companies. Even though he saw this sort of thing more often than his bashful self would allow him to admit, he never failed to become aroused. Brandon felt his cock grow hard in his jeans and knew that this time was certainly no exception. Almost against his will, he immediately began to rub himself through the denim. They way Jenna tried to writhe and flex under Tristan’s control was too erotic of a sight to pass up. He carefully undid his belt and – “What was that?” they said in unison right after Brandon accidentally knocked over folding chair which had been propped against the wall. “Shit,” said Jenna. She was unable to move and turn to face the sound but instantly knew who it was and what it meant. “I… I’m sorry,” stammered Tristan, “We… things just…” Brandon raised his hand, indicating a request for silence, and nodded his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. In fact, I was rather enjoying the show. It’s just… I’m sorry.” He briefly turned between left and right, unsure of which direction to take. It was clear that he was more embarrassed than ...