Chapter 3

The bedroom was cool and dim, soft light spilling across white sheets and wooden beams. Anke led them in, still flushed and glowing, her hand loosely in Dante’s. Max followed, his steps sure, his eyes never leaving his wife.

“Come,” Max said gently, patting the bed. “Lie down, baby.”

Anke climbed onto the bed and lay on her back, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Her skin was dewy, her thick thighs parted slightly in anticipation. She looked at Dante, then at Max, and smiled like a woman who had waited years for this exact moment.

Max knelt beside her, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Anke. Isn’t she, Dante?”

Dante’s voice came without hesitation. “She looks like a dream,” he said, eyes wide with admiration. “Such a stunning woman.”

“Oh God,” Anke murmured, her voice thick and trembling. “You are such a lovely boy. Keep those compliments coming.”

Dante stood at the foot of the bed, watching them. The sight of Max’s tenderness—his love, his devotion—hit harder than he expected. His chest tightened, and to his surprise, his eyes welled up.

“You are both lovely,” he said, voice catching with emotion.

“Such a lovely boy,” Anke echoed, her tone suddenly warm, almost maternal.

Max propped two pillows under her hips, then looked into her eyes. “Raise your legs for me, baby. Wide.”

She obeyed, slowly lifting her legs and opening herself completely to her husband—and their hot young lover.

Dante stepped forward, eyes locked on the glistening space between her thighs. He took her ankles gently in his hands, then leaned down and kissed her feet. From there, his mouth traveled upward—ankles, calves, soft knees, the inner swell of her thighs.

Max kissed her lush lips, then moved to her left, sitting on his knees. He took her left ankle in one hand and cupped her breast in the other, thumbing the nipple softly.

His voice was low and electric. “Put that big cock inside my wife’s honey pot, son.”

Dante positioned himself between her legs. His cock was slick and heavy, standing proud. He looked up at her once more.

Then, slowly, he pushed forward.

Anke’s voice came thick and raw. “Aaaah ... goddamn it, son ... oh fuck ... he’s stretching my pussy to the max ... Max!”

Dante let out a short, breathless laugh as he bottomed out. The warmth, the tightness, the moan in his ear—it was almost too much.

He leaned in and kissed her. Deeply. Hungrily. With a passion that surprised them both.

Max smiled, stroking her breast. “How long have you been in love with my wife?”

Dante shook his head, as if trying to prove to himself this wasn’t a dream.

Anke moaned into the young man’s mouth, her hips rocking gently as she adjusted to the fullness. Max reached down and found her clit—already swollen—and pinched it with perfect precision.

Her body bucked. She let out a broken sob and came like a fountain. Her legs trembled. Her lips stayed locked on Dante’s as her moans turned to ragged cries.

Dante pulled out quickly, and a few quick squirts sprayed across his stomach.

Anke thrashed, overwhelmed and trembling, her orgasm still ripping through her.

Max kissed her—slow, loving—and the moment his lips touched hers, she squirted again. Harder.