Read Part 1
Read Part 2
Read Part 3

You comply, so I give you what you want. You take me in your hands and I gaze down at you, watching you savor your juices and my own, licking up one side of my length and down the other. Your desire is palpable, your appetite vast; you are a woman who must have what she needs at all costs. As they behold this sight, another excited murmur spreads among the horny people watching.

And here I had all but forgotten our audience was there. I glance back to see whether they’re enjoying the show. One spectator straddles another in one of the small chairs off to the side of the patio, trying to keep the pace with us. There is a woman leaning against one of the tables with her dress up, getting it from behind. Most of the other guests sit in available chairs or stand as they masturbate.

You take me in your mouth and start sucking again, hungry for more. And while I’d love another blowjob right now, I’m not through with your pussy just yet. I pull my cock out of your reach, and before you can pout about it I brush your mouth with my fingers. You lick them softly, then take them in your mouth. You are so seductive. You know how much this turns me on. But right now I just want the moisture.

I turn you over. Now you are kneeling at the edge of the lounge chair, your chest down and your ass up. Your shoulders brace you at the other edge of the chair as your head hangs over the side. I move close so you can feel my cock graze on your pussy lips, and I watch you tremble. You want me inside you as badly as I want to be there. I see no reason to make my whore wait for me again, and I grab your soft ass in both hands and spread you apart. The sight of both of your holes open and ready for me makes me throb. I can see rivulets of cum running out of you, gathering on the lounge chair underneath us, and I can scarcely believe that it is mine. But I only gaze for a second before plunging back inside you.

You gasp as you feel me slide all the way in. At the same time, I begin to rub your unoccupied hole with two wet fingers. You moan, knowing what is in store, and begin to move your hips toward me, meeting every thrust.

“Please.” You speak softly, almost fearfully. Your voice is shaky. “I want it. Please give it to me.”

“Tell me what you want.” My voice is louder, authoritative.

“Please fuck my ass.” The plea is spoken softly, but now your voice is less shaky. There is confidence in your words. All at once I push my finger inside and begin to move it back and forth in sync with my cock. Your moans sound like satisfaction now, and you urge me onward.

I continue pumping my cock into you as deeply as it will reach. At the same time, I continue fingering your greedy ass, first with one finger before introducing a second. You reach back for me, but I’m not close enough for your hand to find me blindly, so I lean over and suck on your neck as I double-fuck you.

“I’m so full,” you manage to say through moans and gasps. Even without looking at you I can see the joy in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice This is what you’ve long desired. You say it again, then ask me if you can play with your clit. When I give you permission, you waste no time before bringing yourself to climax and then, momentarily spent, you move your hand out from underneath your body and let it hang off of the lounge chair where your fingers glance against the cold, hard ground.

“Does my good girl need a rest?” I ask, hoping you’ll say no.

You don’t say no, but I can see you shaking your head. Then, after a moment’s quiet, you finally speak: “Please don’t pull out. Not yet.” Then you reach for the toy bag, unzip it, and pull something out. The shiny metal gleams under the flood light as you reach back to hand it to me. Without any words, I pull my fingers out of your ass and push in the plug. In no time at all the hard metal fills your ass, and my still-hard flesh fills your pussy. You are so slick, so slippery, so full of cum that it feels as though my cock is swimming inside you.

I grip your ass, pulling you back to me with every thrust. I lean forward and whisper in your ear. “This is for me. I don’t mind if you cum, but this is entirely for my pleasure.”

“Yes. Please cum for me. I need more.”

“I love using your holes.”

You correct me: “Your holes. They are just for you.”

“Yes. You are mine, my angel.”

You coo happily as you hear my words, and I lean back and thrust harder. My fingers dig into your ass, the pillowy skin dimpling under the pressure. I move one of my hands to your plug, slip a finger inside the ring, and begin tugging at it. As I move it back and forth your moans rise in intensity. All the while, I continue fucking your pussy. I know how much you love being this full.

I am so focused on manipulating your plug that I don’t notice you digging around in the toy bag. But the crowd starts to cheer, and when I look up I see you deep-throating a particularly large and girthy dildo. I wonder how much of that is you showing off – because your deep-throating skills are truly second to none, and it makes sense that you would want everyone to see – and how much is a genuine need to simply have all of your holes as full as they can be.

As I watch your head bobbing up and down, my cock throbs; when you reach the bottom you hold the toy at the back of your throat, gagging as you instinctively fight for air. I drive my cock into you even deeper and harder than I had before, and at the same time I move your plug in and out of you faster, desperate to help you realize this fantasy. Then when I am buried inside you I grab your hips, pull you onto me, and ask you how it feels to be this full. That’s all it takes to make you cum again.

Your release is long, loud, and explosive. As I feel you squeezing me I know I’m close to cumming as well.

“Are you ready?” I ask. You say nothing; your moans are the only sounds I can hear. But you nod your head emphatically as it hangs over the side of the lounge chair, and your enthusiasm sends me over the edge. All at once I erupt again, gushing with all I have to give, painting the inside of you. My moans give way to a low growl as we both feel me emptying out.

Read Part 5.

Read Part 1
Read Part 2

I wasn’t planning on having my first orgasm so soon, but I should have been; you never fail to bring me right to the edge. As I have told you before, just watching you suck my cock is more erotic and exhilarating than actually feeling others do it to me. I know I am close, and you know it too. There’s no holding back.

“Where would my good girl like her reward?” I ask. “Would you like to swallow it, or wear it?” I expect you to take me out of your mouth to tell me. I wonder if you’ll pretend to think it over a bit before giving me your answer, which you’ve undoubtedly decided before we even got started. But instead you keep your lips closed tightly around my throbbing cock. Your point made, I keep fucking your throat. I’m so close I almost can’t stand it.

As my hands tighten in your hair you know your reward is close. It takes me only a few more forceful thrusts to erupt deep in your throat to a score of intense, impassioned moans. You don’t stop sucking until I am completely drained, and the sounds of your own pleasure and satisfaction are unmistakable. My thrusting slows, becomes more shallow and less assertive – almost passive – and then stops altogether. As you clean me with long, deliberate licks, the audience applauds. There are even a few stray cheers.

As the ovation dies down, you fall back against the lounge chair. The back rest is lowered all the way, giving us a completely horizontal surface to fuck on. As I catch my breath I watch your breasts slowly rise and fall. Then I look out at the crowd and see some of our spectators pulling their pants back up and gathering their personal effects. I clear my throat and address the congregation.

“We’re not finished!” At my words, the spectators look toward us again. Those who appear to be heading for the door stop in place. I pause here not for effect or emphasis but because I really don’t know what to say. I hadn’t planned on anyone leaving after my first orgasm, so I hadn’t rehearsed this announcement beforehand like I did my previous one.

I continue: “In fact, we’re just getting started. I am known for having no refractory period.” At this, I gesture to my cock, which is still standing upright, the head red, swollen, and angry. “So we’re going to keep going for awhile. If you’d like to continue watching, you are all welcome to stay.” I consider reminding them of the rules I set forth at the start of our performance, but so far they’ve done a good job being respectful, and at any rate, security knows what to do if anyone gets rowdy. I see no reason to reiterate the point like they’re children.

Now I turn to you. “Where would my good girl like my cock?” My voice is loud enough to be heard, but it’s clear that I am speaking to you and for you, not for our audience.

“In my pussy first, please.” Your legs spring open, and I look over at the crowd in the hopes of feeling their excitement as you show them everything that belongs to me. They are excited; clothing is once again being doffed, and now there are fewer spectators fully dressed than partially naked or even completely naked. I imagine their pleasure, even as I acknowledge that it will be nothing compared to ours.

I get onto the lounge chair and kneel between your legs. We both ache for me to fill you, desperate for that first moment when I slip inside your pussy. So naturally I take a few minutes and tease your lips and your clit with the head of my cock before giving you what you need. Your defiant whining is punctuated by moans of pleasure. You pull me close to you, we kiss, and soon I am home.

I move your legs up onto my shoulders and thrust, my fingers playfully strumming your clit. My cock is so deep inside you that your breaths become gasps. With every movement, the head of my cock glances against your G-spot. You grab my hips and move me back and forth, a gesture of assistance that is as exciting as it is unnecessary. I feel you squeezing me, pulsing around me, and it occurs to me that the audience might like to watch us both cum at the same time. But the thought barely registers in my mind before you climax noisily.

I can feel your nails raking my hips and my waist as your body goes rigid. You take your legs off of my shoulders and wrap them around my back like a great big hug, pulling me even deeper inside you. Your moans are an erotic cacophony, an orchestra piece that has reached its zenith and is winding down. But I don’t wait for your orgasm to subside before I place my hands under your thighs and move us into a sitting position so you can ride me on the edge of the lounge chair.

My hands are at your waist, lifting you up the length of my cock and then letting you slam back down repeatedly. You roll your hips under my fingers, and I can already feel your legs shaking. You throw your hands around my neck to anchor yourself, and I move my hands down to fondle your breasts. There is some hollering from the crowd now, nothing obnoxious. However, I realize they are facing the foot of the lounge chair, which means their view is your ass moving up and down on me, your hips rolling and rippling as your pussy swallows me whole.

Someone in the crowd moans. Then someone else. As their moans reach a crescendo, a third spectator gives in and cums as well. Our performance is having the desired effect. And the chorus of satisfaction must be enough to take you over the edge once more, because your body tenses up and you ride me harder, your legs pressing against my sides as you throw your head against my shoulder and wail in ecstasy.

Your lips meet my neck, kissing and sucking softly, and the sensations bring me close. I am not opposed to you making me cum while on top of me, but I think it will excite you more if you are on the bottom, looking up at me as I release inside you. Without warning, I pick you up, rise from my seat, and set you down on your back with enough force to make the chair shake underneath you. I pull your legs apart before you even realize what’s happening, and thrust harder than you’ve ever experienced. My movements are decisive, with purpose. You know what’s about to happen, and you goad me with your wanton words.

“Cum in me. Cum in my pussy. I need it so badly. I want to be so full.”

Anything you say after that is drowned out by a primal, guttural roar. I can’t say your name, though I try. I can barely form rational thought. All at once I let go, my cum pouring into you one thick, ropey spurt after another. I can’t be sure, but I think that feeling my release is what triggers your own. I don’t stop thrusting, even when I’m sure I’m spent. But my movements eventually slow, and you kiss me hungrily.

Then you whisper two breathless words: “Give me.”

I pull out of you, taking a moment to gaze down at your open pussy, my cum pooling inside you and dripping down your thighs. It looks beautifully used, and ready for much more. But my good girl has made a request, and anything my good girl wants she gets. I get off of the lounge chair and stand by your head, helping you into a sitting position so that you can taste both of us on my cock. But before I’ll give it to you I close my fist around it and stroke it just out of reach of your tongue.

“Say please.”

Read Part 4.

Read Part 1.

The applause of our audience is somewhere between a golf clap and the sort of reaction one hears when a football team scores a touchdown just before the end of the first half. It is sporadic, not exactly half-hearted but somewhat restrained. They have heeded my words and are showing us respect, but at the same time it’s evident that they are loving the show so far. I look down at you, enjoying the sight of your bare breasts rising and falling with each breath; the look on your face is one of ecstasy, though in a moment your expression gives way to self-consciousness, maybe even embarrassment. You start to blush.

You’re still smiling, but it’s a shy, very reserved smile. One might assume from the look on your face that you are having second thoughts about all of this, or even feeling shame. I know better, though; you are having trouble believing that you are worth all of this spectacle. The onlookers, right there on the patio, on the fire escape across the street, and undoubtedly watching from their windows in the overlooking buildings – They have to be watching for some other reason, haven’t they? It is as though I can read your mind.

I lean close to you and whisper so that you can hear but no one else can. “They are all here to see you. Not me, you.” I refrain from telling you that I am incidental, that I may as well be a dildo for all these people care; I know you’ll tell me that I’m crazy and that you wouldn’t be up here on this patio, six floors above the street, naked and vulnerable in front of dozens of strangers if I wasn’t with you.

Speaking of dildos, I eye the bag of toys. It’s sitting on the ground between our lounge chair and the unoccupied one beside it. I have so many ideas that involve penetrating or stimulating you with them, but all in good time. The night is still young, and we have so much more to show our audience.

You sit up and begin to fumble at my belt. I know what you want. I want to give it to you as desperately as you want to receive it, but I pull away and tell you no, not yet. As you hear my words I see you pout, so I waste no time before lowering my mouth to your breasts and sucking vigorously. Your moans of pleasure are a delight to my ears, but I don’t stop there.

My mouth still on your nipple, I slip two more fingers inside you. But instead of caressing your G-spot I begin fucking you with them. My movements are just as vigorous as is my sucking, and your moans take on a different tone and overall sound. This is not just play; you are going to cum and cum quickly. The sounds of your pleasure give way to sounds of release, and you bring your spread legs close to your body and hold them there, your hips slowly swaying as your orgasm washes over you.

I pull my fingers out of your pussy and bring them up to your mouth again. This time I allow you only the quickest of licks before they are back inside you. Soon I grow so aroused that I can’t ignore it, and neither can you. As I knead my erection through my jeans with my free hand, I notice you straining for a look. Even wracked with pleasure, all you can think of is getting me into your mouth.

“Please.”

The word is a throaty whine. The sound excites me, but what turns me on even more is the look in your eyes. It is a look I can best describe as urgent desperation. I like hearing you beg me, and I think the audience would like it as well, so I say one single word:

“Louder.”

You say it again, your voice higher, amplified, but somehow more desperate as well. Your unchecked desire has you all but unhinged, and I know I run the risk of taking this too far. But I can’t stop.

“Louder. I want our audience to hear how badly you need my cock. Make them hear you and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please!” This time, the word is an anguished exhortation. It’s louder, too; there is no doubt in my mind that our spectators can hear you now.

“Please what, my angel?”

“Please give me your cock.” Your last word hangs in the air for a very long few seconds and then you speak again. “Please! I need it.”

We both know that I have no desire to keep either of us waiting. But I can sense the exhibitionist thrill this moment is giving you. I know letting everybody hear you beg excites you as much as the anticipation does. So I prompt you further.

“What do you want to do with it?”

“I want to suck it.” Your words are low again, not quite a whisper but definitely not loud enough to excite the gathered crowd. This will not do.

“Louder. Tell them.” I gesture to the audience, standing just a few yards away from us. “Don’t tell me. I already know what you want. Tell them.”

Your voice is raised now: “Please! Please let me suck your cock. I want to worship you. I need it.”

I wonder if you can see me throb against the inside of my jeans as I hear your words. But I don’t wonder long before I unbuckle my belt. Soon your hands join mine, and before long mine are at my side while you pull my erect, swollen length from my pants. Before I can fully appreciate what is about to happen, your nose is pressed against my waist. I can feel the head of my cock at the back of your throat. I can hear you gag as you try to take me deeper.

I shift a little, moving myself to ensure the assembled masses can see you pleasuring me. I look over and see everyone watching intently, eyes wide. Some of them are touching themselves through their clothes, or even touching someone else. They don’t matter; all that exists in this moment are the two of us

After a very long moment you come up for air, gasping for breath as you replace your mouth with your hands. You look up at me with watery lust-filled eyes, a salacious smile making your intention very clear. You pump me in a tight grasp, then dive back down. As you swallow my cock you move your hands to my sides, slip your fingers into the belt loops on my jeans, and pull them all the way down. I remove my shoes with my feet and then step out of my pants, kicking them in the general direction of the pile of clothing you shed when our performance began.

When you come up for air this time, you go to work on my balls with skilled lips and tongue. At the same time you stroke me from tip to base. From the crowd I hear more excited murmurs; they may not know it, but this is my whore at her most wanton. Yes, you are performing to an extent; you want everyone presnt to see what I get to enjoy whenever I want to. But you aren’t embellishing your performance at all. This is exactly how you worship my cock when we are alone and nobody is watching.

As you take me back in your mouth, I cast off my shirt and toss it to the floor not far from my jeans. It seems I’m not the only one removing clothing; I hear what sounds like zippers being unzipped and clothing being taken off not far away. The audience must really be enjoying the show.

The thought turns me on even more than I already am. My hips begin to rock as I imagine the sea of aroused spectators behind me, so horny, so desperate to be part of our performance that they can’t help but play. I feel your hands on my ass, pulling me even deeper into your mouth, and all at once I begin to throat-fuck you. My hand finds your hair and I hold your mouth in place as I thrust as deeply and fiercely as I would if I were in your pussy or your ass.

I spare a moment and look over at the crowd. Several spectators have opened or even dropped their pants, and in some cases lifted their dresses. It’s a very tantalizing visual, and I know that despite your shyness it turns you on to be the center of attention in this fashion, to have captivated your audience to the extent that they have no choice but to get themselves off as they watch us. It turns me on too.

Read Part 3.

After much deliberation, we decided the event should take place at night. It was billed as adults-only, after all, and thus it would be more sensible to hold such an event after dark rather than at mid-morning or even late afternoon. As a downside, we knew the darkness would make it difficult for spectators to watch from the neighboring buildings, and that didn’t sit well with either of us.

Fortunately, management agreed to let us use one of their industrial outdoor floodlights to fully illuminate the patio. It was just as well; they were already providing security for the event, plus several staff members to operate the barbecues and serve the food. There would be no alcohol provided nor even allowed on the premises; among the duties with which security had been entrusted was checking all guests for alcohol or other contraband before admitting them onto the patio. This was in addition to checking IDs to ensure nobody under legal age to attend such an event was present.

We considered that it might be difficult to attract spectators if alcohol was prohibited, but I made the decision because I knew it was what was best for you. Besides, the lack of alcohol would probably make for a safer, more comfortable environment. Booze and antagonistic fratboy bullshit went hand-in-hand. Our audience might have needed the alcohol to loosen up enough to enjoy the show, but we were the ones performing and we didn’t need it.

Anyway, it was going to be an exciting show, featuring things most of our spectators had never seen in person. This is how we sold the event to the public, and even with the clear ban on alcohol, we knew there would be a sizable crowd based solely on that fact. In addition, food and non-alcoholic drinks were included; even if someone wasn’t there to watch us perform together, they would surely not object to a sumptuous meal.

I thought about ordering a couple silk robes, something extravagant and sexy that one might see a porn star wearing on the set while waiting to shoot. For weeks I had been imagining the audible gasp spreading through the crowd as you dropped your robe at long last, revealing your naked form to dozens of excited spectators who’d been mentally undressing you all evening. I wondered if I’d be able to feel your confidence rising as they applauded, or even cheered, your disrobing. Unfortunately, it completely slipped my mind until the last minute, which is why your jeans, shoes, T-shirt, and everything else are scattered on the patio as you sit in one of the lounge chairs with your legs spread.

You are showing yourself to the crowd. You are displaying what is mine. Everyone looks on in awe, struck by your immense erotic beauty. My arousal builds as I catch sight of a couple guys I’d noticed earlier checking you out; their eyes are wide and their expressions suggest complete focus, as though what they are now seeing was very worth the wait. I can relate; I remember the first time I beheld your nakedness. I remember the anticipation and the excitement. For me, it was worth the wait as well.

Before we get started, I address the crowd. I don’t waste time thanking them for coming; their stomachs are full and now they are about to witness sex the likes of which most of them will never see, much less experience firsthand. I won’t make them thank us, but neither will I express my thanks. My remarks are simply an explicit statement of the rules.

“For this performance to take place, we insist on a respectful environment. You are here to watch us. You are not here to belittle or degrade either of us. You are not here to give instruction. You are not here to catcall. This woman is my wanton whore.” At this, a couple excited whoops emanate from the crowd, so I continue. “But she is also my precious angel, and she is never to be mistreated or objectified without consent. Violators are subject to ejection.” I gesture to the four uniformed security personnel standing at regular intervals at the far end of the patio, then pause and survey the crowd briefly; nobody seems to have an issue with what I am telling them.

After a moment, I go on: “You are free to enjoy the show. In fact, you’re encouraged to enjoy it. You may applaud or cheer, respectfully, at appropriate times. You are free to desire her, and to envy me. You may do anything else that comes naturally as you watch the show provided you have the consent of those standing around you. However, this is strictly a spectator sport. There will be no direct audience participation.”

The flood light stands not far away, with an angled shield installed to direct the illumination at the lounge chairs without blinding us. As you had hoped, we are lit sufficiently that the people we’d noticed on the fire escape across the street should be able to make out what’s going on. If they can see us, we will look like 4K ultra high definition video to the crowd gathered on the patio not far away.

I resume massaging your thighs. You sigh softly as you feel my warm hands, and lean back to rest on your elbows. In the light I can see your glistening arousal, and I can feel your excitement as I lower my hand between your legs and part your lips. I hear you gasp as two fingers slip into your wetness and begin to stroke your G-spot. I don’t do it long; I just want to gather your juices on my fingers so I can bring them up to your mouth for you to taste.

As you lick my fingers clean, an excited buzz ripples through our audience. This is something they were not expecting to see. Knowing how excited they must be, you savor your arousal erotically, then suck my fingers as though they were a pair of cocks. To the gathered crowd, your hunger is plainly visible. But I don’t wait long before pulling my fingers away and putting them back inside your pussy. As I manipulate your G-spot, you writhe and moan. I know it won’t be long before you climax, so I lower my mouth to your clit and lap eagerly before sucking until your movements and sounds tell me you’re right at the edge.

A hush falls over the spectators as your moans increase in volume and intensity. Or perhaps your moans are so loud that they have drowned out their murmuring. Your wet pussy bucks against my dripping mouth, and I hold on for dear life, never missing a single lick. Soon I become conscious of your hands tangled up in my hair; you draw me in further, your hips undulating against my face as you throb against my tongue.

The sounds of your release have given way to screams. Inwardly I acknowledge the ego boost that comes from knowing that my ministrations make you scream, but I still don’t stop licking and sucking your clit as I finger your G-spot. You tighten your hold on my hair as you ride out your orgasm, your screams reaching a crescendo before dying away as you finally collapse against the lounge chair.

Read Part 2.

This week’s Sinful Sunday features the final shot from the photo shoot we did while staying in a hotel room for a family wedding last fall. But don’t worry; we’ve got more to share in the coming weeks.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

This was the most difficult shot of Jill that I took during the shoot that’s provided photos for our last several Sinful Sunday posts. This is because the view of Jill’s ass in the mirror was profoundly distracting.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

Another Sunday, another Sinful Sunday post featuring my wife looking hot during a fall 2021 hottel stay. She has such a spankable ass, doesn’t she?

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

Jill loves being taken from behind as much as I love taking her that way.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

Though “ready for mounting” is an expression one sometimes encounters when shopping for art, it also applies to Jill’s ass.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

If you can tear your gaze away from Jill’s bare skin, note the way the lacy edge of her lingerie casts a fancy shadow across it.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!