They had already been at it long enough for the clothes to stop being clothes.

Chris’s shirt was on the floor by the nightstand, inside out, and his shorts were a heap at the foot of the bed with Mara’s tank top half under them. Nate’s own shirt was still on the office chair. He was in it naked, turned toward the bed, fist slow on his cock, watching Chris about to fuck his wife.

Make out first. He had seen that from the chair. Chris over her, one big hand in the knot of her hair, her mouth open under his, the wet sound of it carrying across the pale floor. Then he fingered her. She had stroked his cock while he worked two fingers into her pussy, her soft stomach tightening, heavy tits shifting every time she lifted her hips for more. She had sucked his cock after that, not long, knees on the sheet, hair coming loose, her mouth on him until Chris’s sunburned neck flushed darker and he pulled her off. She had to open wider for him. She liked that. Ready, he had said. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and lay back.

That was where Nate had them now.

Mara on the white sheet, red comforter shoved down and half spilled on the floor, blue headboard behind her. Her thighs were open around Chris’s hips. The trimmed dark patch was wet from his fingers. Her lower lip was still slick. Chris knelt between her legs, broader through the chest than Nate, fair where the shirt had been, a band of sun on the back of his neck. His cock rested against her pussy, longer than Nate’s and thick enough that her fingers didn’t meet when she had stroked it, the head nudging her open. Nate’s own cock was above average. He knew that every time he fucked her. He also knew the look on her face for this one, mouth open, already wanting it. Not in yet. The date had already happened. The fuck was the next thing.

She looked across the floor at the chair, then at Nate’s hand. Chris was over her, facing the headboard, so the desk was a thing she could see past his shoulder and he could not.

“Watch it go in,” she said. Her voice was rough from his cock. “You’re going to feel this after.”

Saturday light came through the bay windows in stripes where the blinds were half down, and the coffee on the nightstand had already stopped steaming. Nate knew how her pussy was about to stretch around that long, thick cock. Mara knew how she looked from the office chair, tits settled toward her armpits, stomach soft, thighs spread, and she liked being watched from there.

She hooked her calves up, ankles loose, feet toward the ceiling. One bare foot brushed the blue headboard. Chris took himself in hand, set the thick head against her, and pushed. The first inches went into her pussy with a wet sound in a room that big. She had to make room for the length. Her tits shifted. Her mouth opened and she moaned, the moan she made for the cock that reached farther than her husband’s. Her eyes stayed on Nate.

His phone buzzed on the desk.

He ignored the first one. The second stacked on it, then a third, the red badge that meant a customer had already called somebody else and the Saturday thread was no longer optional. Slack, from Priya, then from the customer channel.

“Fuck,” he said.

Mara’s eyes stayed on him. Chris didn’t stop. Both hands went to the backs of her thighs, holding the angle, and he pushed until his hips met her and she took the whole thing, mouth open, tits pulled toward her collarbones.

“Customer emergency,” Nate said. “I need take it. Two minutes.”

“Then take it.” She was already breathy, one hand fisted in the sheet. “Don’t you dare stop, Chris.”

He stood. The chair rolled back, and the view went with it. His cock was hard, pre-cum at the head from his own hand. He grabbed the gray t-shirt off the seat and pulled it on, hem at his hips, nothing under it. He hit the button on the desk. The top rose with a short motor whine until it sat at standing height, laptop open, camera waiting. He stepped in front of the monitor with his back to the bed.