I slipped out of Sarha's bed, the sheets still warm from our tangled night, and padded into the living room. Sofia lounged on the couch in a silk robe that clung to her curves like it had secrets of its own, the TV flickering with some morning talk show. Her eyes flicked to me, sharp and knowing.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she said, patting the cushion beside her. "Sarha still out cold after all that... activity last night? Sounded like you two were auditioning for a wrestling match."
I chuckled, joining her. "You heard that?"
"Every moan and creak. My daughter's got stamina, but you? You sounded like you were holding back. Bet I could make you forget all about holding back." Her voice dripped with that wicked wit, a smirk playing on her lips.
We chatted about nothing—weather, coffee—until her hand drifted casually to my thigh. Then higher. She traced the outline of my cock through my shorts, fingers light but deliberate, teasing it to life.
"Already hard? Impressive. Sarha must've left you wanting more." Sofia's touch grew firmer, wrapping around my now-stiff cock as she started a slow, rhythmic handjob right there on the couch. I bit back a groan, the sensation electric, her grip confident and unyielding.
"Fuck, Sofia..." I muttered.
"Language," she teased, stroking faster, her thumb circling the head. "Or should I say, enjoy the ride? This cock's too good to waste on just one woman."
Suddenly, footsteps. Sarha's voice called from the hallway, "Hey, anyone up? What's for breakfast?"
Her view blocked by the couch back, I grabbed Sofia's hand, holding it firmly in place. She didn't stop—couldn't, wouldn't—her strokes relentless as I felt the pressure build. Panting, I exploded, cum spilling hot over her fingers just seconds before Sarha rounded the corner. Sofia wiped her hand discreetly on a blanket, flashing me a triumphant, horny grin. We were safe by a hair's breadth, her strong gaze daring me to say a word.
Sarha chatted about work, oblivious, then headed out for the office. The door clicked shut, and Sofia rose, robe slipping to reveal sheer lingerie that left nothing to the imagination—her body glistening already, wet and inviting. She crooked a finger. "Bedroom. Now."
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