Chapter 430: Embarrassed Mira Limps to the Tide Pools

Angela shattered again—body seizing in a full-body convulsion, asshole spasming like a heartbeat around my cock, milking me with rhythmic squeezes that nearly pulled my load early. "CUMMING—!! ASS CUMMING—!! HUSBAND—FLOOD MY SHITHOLE—!! BREED IT—!! MAKE ME LEAK FOR WEEKS—!! LISA—RUB HARDER—!! I’M YOUR SQUIRTING ANAL CUMDUMP—!!"

Lisa leaned in, her free hand slapping Angela’s swinging tits—crack-crack—leaving red welts, her mouth latching onto a nipple to suck and bite like a feral animal. "Yes—!! Squirt on my face again, Boss—!! Let him fill you while I drink your pussy juice—!!"

I lost it then—slamming one final time balls-deep, grinding against her depths as my cock swelled and erupted.

Rope after scorching rope blasted into her guts—thick, endless, painting her walls white until the pressure backed up, cum bubbling out around my base in creamy, frothy spurts that mixed with her squirts and dripped in heavy globs onto Lisa’s wrist.

I roared through it—holding her impaled, hips jerking with each pulse—fucking the load deeper, churning it into a sloppy froth inside her.

Angela collapsed forward again—screaming, shaking, her asshole clenching in endless aftershocks—while Lisa finally pulled her fingers free with a wet schlorp, only to shove them into her own mouth, sucking Angela’s squirt off with greedy moans. "Tastes like heaven—Boss’s cum-ass and her squirt—fuck, I need it now—!!"

I pulled out slow—deliberate—watching Angela’s wrecked pucker gape wide: a ruined, pulsing cavern, inner walls visible and twitching, oozing my thick load in slow, viscous rivers that cascaded down her crack, over her quivering pussy, and puddled beneath her. She whimpered pathetically, ass still high, body limp and spent.

I pulled Angela tighter into my arms, her naked body still flushed and sticky from the night’s filth—cum drying in crusty trails down her inner thighs, her asshole still slightly puffy and leaking the last sluggish drops of my load whenever she shifted.

I buried my face in her hair, inhaling the sharp, musky cocktail of sweat, squirt, and sex that clung to her like perfume, then murmured loud enough for Lisa to hear every filthy syllable.

"Let’s go to sleep... It’s gonna be morning soon. Good night, wife." I kissed the nape of Angela’s neck, slow and possessive, letting my tongue drag once along the salty skin. "Night, Lisa."

Angela gave a sleepy, contented hum—half-moan, half—sigh—her ass pressing back against my softening cock like she was already dreaming of round two. She curled into me like a well-fucked kitten, one leg hooking over mine, her slick pussy lips smearing fresh wetness across my thigh.

Lisa didn’t move at first.

She stayed kneeling at the edge of the mat, thighs spread wide, shorts soaked dark at the crotch, chest heaving with shallow, frustrated pants. Her eyes were locked on us—hungry, glassy, pupils blown so wide they looked black in the dying amber lamp light.

Her nipples stabbed through the thin tank top like they were trying to tear free; one hand rested between her legs, fingers twitching like she was seconds from rubbing herself raw right there in front of us. She bit her lip hard enough to leave teeth marks, a soft, needy whimper escaping before she could swallow it.

I pretended not to notice.

I rolled onto my side, spooning Angela fully, my hand sliding down to cup her heavy tit possessively—thumb lazily circling the abused nipple until she sighed again. Lisa’s breathing hitched audibly. I could feel her stare burning holes into my back.

Still, I said nothing.

After a long, trembling moment, Lisa finally crawled to her spot on the far side—slow, reluctant, every movement screaming frustration.

She lay down stiffly, facing away from us, but I could hear the wet squish of her thighs pressing together, the tiny, stifled grind of her hips against the mat as she tried—and failed—to ease the ache between her legs. Her breathing stayed ragged, uneven, like she was fighting not to sob or beg.

I closed my eyes and let sleep take me instantly—deep, satisfied, cock still half-hard against Angela’s ass like a promise for dawn.

When I woke, pale gray light was creeping through the cave mouth, turning the air cool and misty. Angela was still curled in my arms, soft and warm, her breathing slow and even, one hand loosely draped over my forearm. Her ass cheeks were still marked with faint red handprints; when she shifted in her sleep, a tiny trickle of dried cum cracked and flaked off her inner thigh.

Mira was awake.

She lay on her side, facing me, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around herself as she could hide from what had happened. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, cheeks flushed crimson, the second our eyes met. She froze—wide-eyed, panicked—like a deer caught in headlights. Her lips parted on a silent gasp; I watched her throat work as she swallowed hard.

I smiled slowly and filthily, voice low and gravel-rough from sleep.

"Good morning, my little wife."

Mira’s breath hitched. She slapped both hands over her face, a mortified whimper leaking between her fingers.

"Oh my god... what have I done... I’m so embarrassed..."

Her voice cracked—small, trembling, but underneath it was that same needy edge from last night, the one that made her asshole clench around my cock even as she pretended to fight.

I sat up slowly, letting the sleeping bag fall away so my naked body was on full display—cock already thickening again at the sight of her flushed shame.

I reached out, wrapped one arm around her waist, and yanked her against me in a hard, possessive hug. Her bare tits crushed to my chest; her stiff nipples dragged across my skin like little points of fire. She gasped, hands flying to my shoulders—not pushing away, just clutching like she needed something to hold onto.

"There’s nothing to be embarrassed about," I growled into her ear, lips brushing the shell, hot breath making her shiver. "You’re mine now."

I let one hand slide down her back—slow, deliberate—until my palm cupped the full curve of her ass. I squeezed hard, fingers digging into the soft flesh, spreading her cheek just enough to feel the faint heat still radiating from where I’d stretched her virgin hole last night. She whimpered again, thighs clenching together, but she didn’t pull away.

Mira buried her face in my neck, voice muffled and shaking.

"I... I let you... in my ass... right next to them... I came so hard I cried..., and I liked it..."

Her confession ended in a tiny, broken moan. I felt fresh wetness slick her inner thighs where they pressed against mine—her cunt already dripping again, betraying every word of shame.

I chuckled low, dark, nipping at her earlobe.

"That’s right, baby girl. You took my cock like a good little wife—quiet, desperate, asshole gripping me so tight I thought you’d snap it off. And you squirted just from the stretch... didn’t you? Dripping down my balls while Angela listened and pretended not to finger herself."

Mira shuddered violently, hips rocking forward on instinct—grinding her soaked pussy lips against the hard length of my cock trapped between us. A fresh gush of her slick coated my cock; I groaned at the filthy heat of it.

"Look at you," I murmured, sliding my hand between her cheeks now—fingers tracing the still-tender rim of her asshole. It fluttered under my touch—puffy, sensitive, remembering every brutal inch I’d forced inside.

"Still sore... still leaking a little of my cum from last night... but your greedy little hole’s already winking at me again. Hungry for round two?"

She whined—high and needy—nodding frantically against my shoulder.

"Please... don’t tease...