Free The Christmas Exhibition by V T Vaughn

jealous... Seeing a glimpse of his thick cock in his trousers... I'm gonna despise myself in the morning...”
                  My moment of no return approached. My testicles were tensing. My orgasm impending.
                  “... Coming home and taunting my boyfriend about his inexperience...”
                  The blood pumped suddenly to my head. My breathing grew ragged. My motions quickening inside her pussy.
                  “... How my temptations turn to other men... One other man... A guy I can't stand... And yet somehow I want to crumble before him and let him violate me... Treat me like shit... Cum... Piss... Cum... Oh my God... I want his cum... His ... Pi -”
                  I came horrendously inside her. “Fucking slut!” I blasted, emptying my first load of spunk.
                  “You filthy bastard!” she cried, bucking her hips back against my length. “Cumming inside me without a condom.”
                  I flung my cock further inside her velvet temple, unloading multiple volleys of additional sperm.
                  “If you make me pregnant-”
                  I slapped her ass, fell forward and bit her exposed shoulder. “Shut up, slut!”
                  “Aoooow, Matt!” She was screaming in agony, throwing her strength to her shoulder, wishing to free herself from my clamping teeth. “Let go of me! Fuck!”
                  I clasped her waist, drilled my dick finally inside her and erupted one last, momentous spurt. I was grunting, sweating and stifling revulsion at her numerous revelations. The point of pleasure was passing. Riotous realisation was dawning upon me.
                  I pulled out of her, her pussy making a plopping sound as I left.
                  My girlfriend had been touched by other men.
                  My girlfriend had enjoyed being touched by other men.
                  “Slut,” I said, as Sean had said before me.
                  Jill fell flat on the coffee table, her breasts pressed down and squeezed out by the wooden surface. Her legs spread wide. My semen dripping out of her used hole.
                  I walked around to where her head rested, gently pulled her up to my spent erection and silently invited her to clean the mixture of my fluid and hers with her mouth.
                  Jill's sexual exhaustion and drunkenness was apparent. Her eyes glazing. Her mouth murmuring. Her tongue swirling around my cock head. Her lips sucked under my foreskin. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned.
                  My heart was compounded by terror. Thoughts of losing her spiralled my mind into a sudden abyss of abhorrence.
                  “I love your cock,” she whispered, her mind meandering.
                  Her pussy was perhaps more promiscuous than any hint she had ever dropped before dared reveal.
                  How much of her wanton behaviour could I accept?
                  How much further could she push her limits?
                  How much more would I embrace?
                  Her blonde hair bobbed back and forth, her lips engorging my length. “I love sucking cock,” she confessed.
                  What limits?
     

PART TWO
     
    1
     
    I had awoken sometime around 4:30am. Jill's mouth was wrapped around a pillow, her torso splayed out on the mattress and the duvet placed tantalisingly between the naked cheeks of her ass. I was restless, erect and unable to resist the temptation to sneak downstairs for a private masturbation session.
                  I dropped my boxer shorts to my ankles, shivered in the cold and grabbed my cock in my hand. The lager had worn off. My head was clearer. Though my mind was clouded by doubts of her loyalty. Interested by