“Ready?” he asks, voice low.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He pushes against my pink clench, slow at first, stretching me open until I moan. The water helps, but it’s still a lot, and he knows it. He holds still, letting me adjust, kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck, whispering dirty nothings that make my pussy clench, empty and aching for more.
“Fuck baby,” he rasps. “You have such a hungry asshole, you know that? How do you even sit when your butthole’s being ravaged by my cock multiple times a day?”
His words are true because Hunter loves anal, and I love giving it to him. But practice makes perfect, and once I’m relaxed, he starts to move, fucking my ass in slow, deliberate thrusts, making the water slosh around us. I reach between my legs, fingering myself, desperate for something inside. The pleasure is sharp, almost too much, but I want it, crave it.
Hunter grips my hips and pulls me back onto him, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the steamy air.
“Your asshole’s so fucking tight,” he growls. “You love this, don’t you?”
I whimper, “Yes. Please. Don’t stop.”
He fucks me harder, faster, and I feel myself slipping toward orgasm. My pussy clenches on nothing, desperate to be filled, and I finger myself furiously, the motion making me sob with need.
He pulls out suddenly, turning me to face him, and lifts me in the water, impaling me on his cock. This time, he goes in my pussy, and the stretch is so good, so right, I scream. He bounces me on his shaft, up and down, water splashing everywhere, my tits floating and jiggling with every thrust.
“Yes Hunter!” I scream. “Yes, yes, yes!”
He groans, alternating between my two holes, sometimes going into my ass, sometimes my cunt, making both orifices hungry for him, never letting either be fully satisfied. It’s dizzying, overwhelming, and so fucking hot I can barely see straight.
“You’re Daddy’s fuckslut, aren’t you?” he rasps hungrily. “Letting me fuck you like this. Letting me claim both your pussy and your ass.”
“Yes, yes, I love it!” I cry out, arching my back with my tits in his face. “Ooooh!”
With a sudden rush, he moves us to the stairs, and he sits with me straddling him, fucking myself on his cock while he squeezes my ass, spreading me wide for every stroke. The water turns slicker, hotter, and I feel my orgasm rising, unstoppable.
“Hunter, I’m—” I choke on the words as it hits me, a tidal wave of pleasure, and I clamp down on his cock, milking him, screaming his name.
He lets go as well, shoving into me as deep as possible, and I feel his cock twitch, the heat of his cum flooding me, mixing with the pool, running down my thighs.
“FUCK!” he roars in the pool house, shaking the thin walls. “Shit shit shit!”
He keeps thrusting, even after our tremors subside somewhat, not willing to stop, not willing to let me go. I feel so good and so content, my pussy and ass rippling, milking him of virile sperm with every tremor. This is what I want. This is what I was born for.
When we finally collapse, he cradles me in his lap, stroking my hair, both of us sated and breathless.
I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling more alive than I ever have.
The blue of the water, the shimmer of the tiles, the echo of our voices—they’re all part of the story now. Part of me.
I kiss his jaw, tasting salt and chlorine.
“Was that what you wanted?” he asks, voice soft and low.
I nod, nuzzling into him. “It’s everything I ever wanted.”
We stay together, tangled, until the sun goes down and the city lights flicker on, one by one.
It’s blissful because in Hunter’s arms, I don’t feel divided.
I feel whole.
We wrapourselves in towels and lie together on the heated stone by the pool, Hunter flat on his back, me curled into his chest. The room is heavy with humidity and the faint hum of low jazz from the speakers, but the towels are thick and plush, and I never want to move again.
Hunter traces lazy circles on my arm, his fingers rough with calluses from gym and work. I run my toe along his shin, just because I can. It’s quiet for a while, just the drip of water and our synced-up breathing.