Sticky with the Neighbours. Close Quarters, #18

A ceiling fan clatters in cloying silence. June tosses and turns, the heat an active entity that feels more like imprisonment than comfort. Adam's silhouette frames the hallway opening - a dark, hulking figure against yellow light. She pads close enough for him to smell the earthy scent of wet woman. His cock shifts against his shorts. Bedrooms, couches, garages, porches. She's dripping rainwater and vulnerability onto his porch and he's been dying, aching for her for years.
On the couch, his cock notches at her lips, slick heat kissing his tip. She laughs, wild and breathless, tugging him toward her dripping slit. "You asked for it, " he grins. She takes him deeper, throat clenching around him, sensations stacking into an overwhelming brutal rush. He lunges, self-control annihilated. He drives into her, walls clenching, hands rough and reverent. After, he readjusts his jeans with a thick hardness already stirring - the phantom ache she left behind.