The scent of Carol’s perfume hit me first—something floral and sharp—as she cracked the front door open just enough for me to slip through. Her eyes flicked upstairs, where the bathroom fan hummed, and she pressed a finger to her lips. I didn’t need telling twice. I stepped into the hallway, heart hammering, and before I could think, I leaned in and kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek—full on the lips, soft and lingering. She didn’t pull away. Her mouth tasted of coffee and something sweet, and I felt her hand touch my chest for a split second before she broke it with a smirk.

Then Camille appeared from the kitchen, all black—tight leggings, a loose top that fell off one shoulder, her hair tied back. She walked straight into me, and I took her face in my hands, kissed her deep. Her tongue met mine, quick and hungry, and I could feel her smile against my lips. Carol whispered, Rob’s still in the bathroom, hurry. We broke apart, and I slipped out the back door into the garden, pressing myself against the wall where the hedge hid me.

I heard Rob’s footsteps overhead, then the creak of the stairs, the front door opening. A muffled goodbye to Carol, the jingle of keys, and then the heavy thud of his car door. The engine started, and I counted to ten, giving him time to reverse out of the driveway.

Carol came to the back door and waved me in. He’s gone. Come on.

I walked into the front room, and Camille was already there, waiting by the window. She turned, and the moment our eyes met, I crossed the room and took her in my arms. We kissed like we hadn’t seen each other in weeks, not just a few hours. Her hands tangled on my head and face and I pulled her hips against mine, feeling the heat of her through the thin fabric. Carol stayed by the window, watching the street.

Camille broke the kiss, breathless, as Carol said, Rob’s still out there.

Camille cheekily replied "Who the fuck is Rob?"

I grinned against her lips and said "Exactly" And I kissed her again, deeper, my hands sliding down to her ass. She moaned into my mouth.

Carol cleared her throat. He’s gone. The car just turned the corner.

Camille pulled back, her eyes bright. Good.

Carol picked up the dog’s lead from the hook, clicked it onto the collar, and said, I’ll take him out for an hour or so. Leave you two to… have fun. She winked at me, a flash of mischief. "Take care of her, won’t you?" She said

I nodded, already leading Camille toward the stairs.

The marital bedroom smelled of their sheets—faint cologne and laundry softener. I barely noticed. I pushed Camille gently onto the bed, and she laughed, pulling me down on top of her. We kissed again, slow at first, then faster, her legs wrapping around my waist. I tugged her top over her head, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were perfect—full, with dark nipples that hardened the moment I brushed my thumb across them. I bent my head and sucked one into my mouth, and she arched her back, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

I worked my way down her body, kissing her belly, the inside of her thigh, tasting the salt of her skin. She was already wet when I pushed her leggings down. I spread her legs and buried my face between them. She tasted like honey and arousal, and she bucked against my mouth, her fingers gripping my hair. I licked her clit in circles until she was trembling, her moans growing louder, before she pulled me up.

Your turn, she said, and she was on her knees, unzipping my jeans, taking my cock into her mouth. I leaned back against the headboard, watching her work me—slow, teasing, then deep. Her tongue swirled around the head, and I had to close my eyes to last.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I pulled her up and turned her over. She got on all fours, and I entered her from behind, a long smooth thrust that made her gasp. Her ass pressed against me, and I grabbed her hips, setting a rhythm. She was tight and hot, and I leaned over her back, kissing her shoulder, reaching around to rub her clit. She came quickly, her whole body shuddering, a long moan that turned into a scream.

I pulled out and lay back, and she straddled me, sinking down onto my cock. She rode me slow at first, then faster, her breasts bouncing in my face. I sat up and sucked them, and she rode me harder, her nails digging into my shoulders. I flipped her onto her side and fucked her that way, one leg over my arm, deep and grinding. Then she turned onto her back, and I lifted her legs over my shoulders, fucking her missionary while I sucked her toes. Each one, then her arch, the sole of her foot, and she was writhing, coming again.

I came inside her, a deep hot flood, and she held me tight, her legs wrapped around my waist. We stayed like that, still connected, panting.

Twenty minutes later, she stirred. Her hand wandered down, found my cock still slick, and began to stroke it. In minutes I was hard again. She climbed on top, facing away this time—reverse cowgirl—and I watched the curve of her back, the way she tilted her hips as she rode me. The bed rocked against the wall, a steady creak, and she threw her head back, screaming my name.

From downstairs, I heard the front door open, then Carol’s voice, cheerful: It’s only me.

We didn’t stop. I rolled her onto her stomach and pounded her from behind, rough, deep strokes that made her cry out. She came again, her whole body clenching around me, and I flipped her onto her back, pushed her knees up, and fucked her missionary until I filled her a second time.

We lay in a tangled heap, sweaty, giggling. Camille kissed my chest, my neck, my lips. We got dressed slowly, still catching our breath.

Going downstairs was surreal. Carol was in the kitchen, making tea. She looked us up and down and smiled. You’re both glowing, she said. I’m glad. You made my daughter happy.

We sat in the living room, the three of us, watching some reality show I didn’t care about. Camille curled into my side as we shared kisses as rubbed on my thigh. Carol sat in the armchair, knitting something, occasionally glancing at us with a pleased little smile.

After an hour of being downstairs, me and Camille had spent around ten minutes kissing. She pressed her lips to my ear. Upstairs?

I nodded. Carol didn’t even look up. Don’t forget to lock the door.

We practically ran up the stairs. This time was harder, rougher, more desperate. She rode me until the bed frame cracked against the wall, and I came inside her a third time, groaning against her neck.

Later, as we lay in the dark, she whispered, I love that you’re so fucking cheeky.

I kissed her forehead. Exactly.