Amanda unfolded herself from the SUV with a languid stretch, her arms arching high above her head, making her fitted blouse ride up just enough to reveal a tantalizing sliver of toned stomach. The late afternoon sunlight caught the golden highlights in her chestnut hair as she shook it out with a sigh, rolling her shoulders as if working out the stiffness from the drive.

Christy couldn’t help but notice the way John’s gaze lingered on his wife—the way his eyes darkened as they traced the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts beneath the thin fabric. Amanda caught him looking and smirked, her full lips curving knowingly before she turned toward Kyle and Christy.

"Well, this is awkward," Amanda said, her voice smooth and amused, though there was an edge to it—something restless, frustrated.

Kyle ran a hand through his already-mussed hair, his cheeks still flushed from their interrupted make-out session. "Yeah, no kidding. I thought you guys weren’t coming up until next weekend?"

John shrugged, hefting a duffel bag from the backseat. "Calendar mix-up. Your mom had this weekend marked, I had next. Neither of us double-checked."

Amanda exhaled through her nose, her fingers tapping impatiently against her thigh. "Guess we’ll have to make the best of it."

Christy swallowed, hyperaware of the lingering heat between her legs, the way her nipples were still stiff beneath her shirt. She crossed her arms subtly, hoping to hide the evidence of her arousal, but the knowing glint in Amanda’s eye suggested she wasn’t fooling anyone.

The cabin’s interior was cozy but cramped—exactly as Kyle had described, but suddenly far less ideal with four people instead of two. The main room was dominated by a stone fireplace, its hearth cold but ready for kindling. A small kitchenette lined one wall, its counter space barely enough for two people to cook side by side. The living area held a worn but comfortable-looking couch—the fold-out bed, Christy noted with a sinking feeling, where she and Kyle would be sleeping.

A single bedroom door stood slightly ajar, revealing a queen-sized bed covered in a thick quilt—clearly meant for John and Amanda. The bathroom was barely private—just a curtain separating it from the main room, the toilet an eco-friendly model with gaps at the top and bottom, the kind found in rustic retreats where privacy was an afterthought.

"Well," John said, setting his bag down with a thump. "This’ll be… cozy."

Amanda shot him a look—one that Christy couldn’t quite decipher, but it simmered with unspoken tension.

"We’ll take the bedroom," Amanda announced, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You two can have the couch."

Kyle opened his mouth, likely to protest, but Christy nudged him subtly. There was no point arguing.

John stretched, rolling his neck with a groan. "Long drive. Think we’re gonna lie down for a bit."

Amanda didn’t wait for further discussion. She grabbed her bag and strode toward the bedroom, her hips swaying just enough to draw the eye. John followed, pausing only to throw a glance back at Kyle—one that was equal parts amusement and sympathy.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them.

"Dammit," Kyle muttered, his voice thick with frustration. His cock still throbbed against his jeans, aching from the interruption.

Christy bit her lip, her skin still buzzing from his touch. "This is... strange," she whispered, glancing toward the closed bedroom door. She barely knew John and Amanda—had only met them a handful of times—and now she was stuck in a tiny cabin with them, her body still humming with unspent need.

Kyle stepped closer, his hands settling on her hips, pulling her flush against him. "Forget about them," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "We can still pick up where we left off."

His hardness pressed into her stomach, and Christy whimpered, her resolve wavering. But before she could respond⁠—

A low, throaty giggle drifted from the bedroom.

They froze.

The giggle was just the beginning.

Kyle’s hands stilled on Christy’s hips as a breathy whisper slipped through the thin wooden door.

"John—*oh, yes—" Amanda’s voice was hushed, but unmistakably wanton.

A sharp inhale. The rustle of fabric sliding—jeans shucking down thighs, a belt unbuckling. The bed groaned faintly as weight shifted.

Kyle swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Christy’s breath hitched as another whisper curled into the room.

"Touch me first," Amanda murmured, her voice lush with anticipation. "God, your hands⁠—"

A deep, satisfied hum from John. "Fuck, you’re amazing." The sound of lips meeting skin—slow, wet kisses trailing downward. A shaky sigh. Then⁠—

"Suck my tits, baby. Please."

Christy’s nipples tightened at the raw need in Amanda’s voice. Kyle’s grip on her shifted, fingers digging in as the unmistakable sound of a mouth closing over bare flesh reached them. A low moan, half-stifled but overflowing with pleasure.

"That’s it," Amanda gasped. "Oh—just like that. Your tongue⁠—"

Something heavy hit the floor—a shoe, maybe. Fabric whispered as more clothes were shed. Then John’s voice, thick and strained.

"My cock’s so goddamn hard for you. Been thinking about these perfect tits all day."

A shiver raced down Christy’s spine. She could hear it—the wet, rhythmic friction of John’s hand working over himself, the slick click of pre-cum.

"Let me taste you," Amanda whispered.

A rough groan. "Christ. You want it?"

"Yes. In my mouth. Right now."

The bed creaked. Sheets rustled. Then⁠—

Oh. A slow, luxurious suck, lips stretching, tongue fluttering. A guttural noise ripped from John’s throat.

Kyle was breathing raggedly now, his cock throbbing against Christy’s stomach. She pressed closer, thighs clenching, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

They weren’t nearly as quiet as they thought they were.

John’s voice was rough, strained with pleasure as Amanda’s mouth worked him over.

“Fuck, your lips—so fucking soft,” he groaned, his fingers threading through her hair. “That tongue… Christ, just like that.”

Amanda hummed around him, the vibration making his hips jerk. She pulled back just enough to whisper, lips glistening. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

John’s breath hitched. “Want you on your knees like a good little cocksucker. Want you to take every inch until you choke on it.”

A wicked laugh, low and breathless. “Then make me.”

The bed creaked as John tightened his grip, guiding her back down. “Open.”

Amanda obeyed, her lips parting, eyes locked on his as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth. A muffled moan escaped her as he hit the back of her throat, her lashes fluttering.

“That’s it,” John growled, his voice thick with approval. “Take it. All of it.”

She gagged softly, but didn’t pull away—just let him use her, her fingers digging into his thighs as he rocked into her mouth.

And then⁠—

The door, old and warped, gave another inch.

Kyle’s breath caught.

Christy’s pulse hammered in her throat.

Through the widening gap, they could see it all—Amanda on her knees between John’s spread thighs, her lips stretched obscenely around his thick cock. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him deep, her fingers gripping the base of him, working what she couldn’t take.

John’s head tipped back, his muscles taut, his voice a ragged whisper. “God, yes—just like that. Choke on it.”

Amanda’s eyes watered, but she didn’t stop—just took him deeper, her throat fluttering around him as he fucked her mouth in slow, relentless strokes.

Kyle’s fingers flexed against Christy’s hips, his cock throbbing against her. She could feel his heartbeat where their bodies pressed together, wild and unsteady.

Neither of them dared to move.

Neither of them wanted to.

The door stood wide open now.

And John and Amanda—lost in each other—had no idea they were being watched.

Kyle exhaled through clenched teeth, his voice rough in Christy’s ear.