Sarah Jessie

Sarah Jessie runs HR, married to Arielle, and carries a hunger her wife can’t feed. Arielle owns a pretty strap-on and an ocean of love, yet nothing cold replaces the throb of a hard, blood-hot cock. So Sarah slips downstairs at lunch to ride a couple of sales guys—Jamie in particular, thick, heavy, and always ready. Today Arielle decides to surprise her with lunch. The door opens just as Jamie has Sarah bent over the conference table, driving balls-deep, her wedding ring tapping the wood each time he slams home. Arielle freezes, face gone white. Jamie and the other guy mutter apologies, backing off, but Sarah stays bent, hips rolling, cunt glistening around thick meat. “I need this,” she pants. “Stay. Understand.” Arielle sinks into a chair, numb, until the wet slap of skin drags her closer. She watches Jamie’s cock disappear into her wife, watches Sarah’s lips stretch, hears her make sounds Arielle has never coaxed from her. When Sarah orders them to take her ass, Arielle’s stomach drops—she has begged for that hole for years and been denied. Now it opens around raw cock while her own pulse roars in her ears. The men groan, empty themselves across Sarah’s spine and cheeks, then gather their clothes and leave. Alone, Sarah turns, cum sliding down her thighs, eyes soft. “Come here,” she whispers. Arielle drops between her wife’s spread legs and licks, tasting salt, sweat, and the truth she already knows: Sarah belongs to her, even when the cum belongs to someone else.