Lin Mu didn't move.
His mouth still glistened with the ss he'd just cleaned from her—his lips slick, chin wet, the taste of another man thick on his tongue. He knelt, hands folded in his lap, cock hard and twitching beneath his soiled robe. He didn't speak.
Because she hadn't told him to.
Because Yan Zhuo hadn't told him to.
Xue Lan stirred.
Her thighs shifted slightly, sticky with heat, her folds glistening clean now—but still open. Still twitching. Her hips lifted off the sheets almost instinctively, as if her body already knew what ca next.
"Still dripping," Yan Zhuo said with a grin, stepping forward.
He gripped the base of his cock—still thick, still hard, veins bulging, slick with fresh arousal. He lined it up again without asking.
Lin Mu watched.
Watched the way his wife's body responded the mont the tip kissed her entrance—her back arching slightly, her thighs spreading wider in invitation, her breath catching in her throat.
"Go slow," she said. "He just finished cleaning ."
Yan Zhuo didn't go slow.
He shoved inside her in one brutal thrust.
Xue Lan scread.
Her head tilted back, eyes shut, mouth open. Her legs kicked once, her fingers twisting in the sheets. She was wetter than before. Looser. Ready—but still sensitive.
Her pussy swallowed him again, stretched tight around that fat cock, squelching with the force of entry. Her body trembled beneath him, every muscle tensing.
"Fuck—yes!" she gasped. "Again—fuck again—don't stop—"
Lin Mu groaned.
Yan Zhuo fucked her hard.
There was no slow buildup. No teasing.
Just raw, punishing thrusts that made the bedfra slam against the wall, made the oil-laced sheets wrinkle and bunch beneath her, made her moan helplessly with every snap of his hips.
"Did he clean it well?" Yan Zhuo grunted, pounding into her.
"He always does," Xue Lan moaned. "He made ready for this."
Yan Zhuo laughed darkly. "That's right. You made him clean off your cunt so I could use it again."
Her answer was a scream.
Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, locking him inside.
Lin Mu stared.
The way her body rippled with every thrust—the way her ass bounced, the way her tits heaved, the way her pussy gripped tight then gushed around Yan Zhuo's cock. He could see it all.
Yan Zhuo's shaft glead with slick, coated from base to tip with her arousal. Her inner lips clung to him on every pull, stretched and red and needy.
She was moaning his na.
Over and over.
And Lin Mu knelt there, useless, drooling in sha, cock hard, ignored.
"Fuck, you're tighter than before," Yan Zhuo growled. "Was he fingering you too?"
Yan Zhuo slamd harder.
"Fuck. You're mine now, you know that?"
"Yours," she gasped. "Yours tonight. Use . Break ."
And he did.
The bed shook with every thrust, her moans turned ragged, raw. Her body convulsed beneath him. Her pussy gushed again, soaking Yan Zhuo's cock, splashing against the sheets Lin Mu had folded hours ago.
"Gonna cum again," she moaned. "I feel it—I feel it—Mu'er—watch —"
Lin Mu's head jerked up.
Her eyes were locked on his.
"Watch cum on another man's cock!"
Then she scread.
Louder than before. Longer.
Her body jerked violently, spasd as her pussy clamped down on Yan Zhuo's cock.
"FUCK—" he growled, eyes narrowing as he ramd into her.
And ca.
Thick, endless spurts of cum flooded her again, filling her womb, leaking past the tight seal of her stretched cunt.
Lin Mu watched it all.
Watched the way her pussy swallowed it.
Watched it spill back out.
Watched her collapse.
"Still hungry?" Yan Zhuo sneered, looking down at Lin Mu's twitching face.
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