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As his eyes fluttered open to the dim light of his bedroom, Mike lay still, the memory of Elira's touch warm against his skin. The dream was gone, but its
lessons remained-Sex was more than a moment, more than a body's response. He closed his eyes, willing himself back to her, to the golden room where they could try again.
Then______
"The wooden bedframe let out a soft creak, matching the languid rhythm of their entwined shadows."
Selene and Leon, lost in each other, made no effort to muffle their voices, their words sharp and unfiltered in the still air. Mike's face flushed hot, his jaw tight as their dialogue unfolded, raw and unguarded.
"Spread your legs, Selene," Leon's voice rasped, thick with hunger. "I want to see all of you."
Selene's laugh was low, wicked. "Greedy tonight, aren't you? Look at that dick, so hard already. Come here, take what's yours."
The bed creaked louder, wood protesting as their movements quickened. "Fuck, your pussy's so tight," Leon growled, his breath heavy. "Move with me, love, let me feel you squeeze me."
"Oh, Leon," Selene purred, her voice dripping with heat. "You fill me so good. Harder-fuck me like you mean it."
Mike squeezed his eyes shut, willing the sounds to fade, but they only grew sharper. The slap of skin, a low moan from Selene, and Leon's rough chuckle painted a picture he couldn't unsee. "You want it hard?" Leon said, his tone teasing but edged with need. "Spread wider, then. Let me fuck you deep, till you're screaming my name."
"Gods, yes," Selene gasped, the bed's rhythm faltering as she arched into him. "Your dick's perfect-don't stop, Leon, don't you dare stop."
Mike's stomach churned, a mix of embarrassment and something he refused to name twisting inside him. he wasn't naive-he knew the fire that burned between his parents, the kind this backward village seemed to stoke with its raw, unpolished ways. But hearing it, feeling the house pulse with their desire, was too much. Their voices wove together, a relentless tide.
"Love it?" Selene's voice was breathy, taunting. "I crave it, you bastard. Keep going-make me come, Leon, make me fucking scream."
The intensity spiked, their gasps and grunts filling the air like smoke. Mike couldn't take it anymore. He threw off his blanket, the cold floorboards biting his bare feet as he stumbled to the door. He'd pound on their wall, yell for them to shut up-anything to drown out the heat flooding his senses.
But as he stepped into the dim hallway, a flicker of candlelight stopped him cold.
Althea, the maid.
She knelt just outside his parents' door, her slim frame trembling in the shadows.
Her dark hair clung to her sweat-dampened neck, her hands fisting her worn skirts as if to anchor herself. Her breath hitched, shallow and ragged, her eyes fixed on the door where the sounds spilled out-Selene's sharp cry, Leon's low "Fuck, yes, just like that.
" Althea's lips parted, her thighs pressed tight, a silent war raging in her body as she fought the desire the sounds stirred. She was young, yes, ofcourse older than Mike, but the raw hunger in her posture was unmistakable, a mirror to the fire within the room.
Mike's throat went dry. Seeing Althea like this-kneeling, caught in her own forbidden longing-hit him harder than the noises ever could. Her chest rose and fell, her fingers twitching as if she might reach for something she couldn't name.
"She didn't see him, too consumed by the spell of Selene and Leon's passion, but Mike felt like an intruder in a moment too raw, too private."
"He backed away, heart hammering, and slipped back into his room. The sounds hadn't stopped-Selene's moans climbing."
Leon's growled "Come for me, now"-but Mike couldn't face them, or Althea, or the strange heat prickling his own skin. He sank onto his mattress, pulling the blanket over his head, and prayed for silence, for sleep, for anything to pull him from the house's suffocating pulse.
"After an eternity of battling the relentless creaks of his parents' bedframe and the raw heat of their voices—Selene's moans, Leon's growled commands—Mike had slipped into a fragile sleep. The sounds of their passion, a torment that had burned his nerves raw, faded into the shadows of his mind. But rest offered no escape. In the depths of his dreams, a new fire kindled, one that bore Althea's face."
"In the dream, Mike found himself in a darkened room, its walls lost to shadow. A single tallow candle flickered on a rough-hewn table, its frail light casting a golden glow that danced across the air."
The bed beneath him was soft, its straw mattress whispering faintly, a far cry from the groaning oak of his parents' chamber. And there, sitting before him, was Althea, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink, her eyes gleaming with a knowing, untamed spark.
Her presence was a magnet, pulling at the heat that had simmered in Mike since he'd seen her kneeling outside his parents' door, her body trembling with unspoken desire. The memory of her—thighs pressed tight, breath hitching—fueled the dream, and his voice came unbidden, rough with want. " Take of your clothes," he said, the words heavy in the stillness.
"Althea's lips curved, a smile both teasing and obedient."
"Without a word, she obeyed, her fingers deftly untying the laces of her worn dress. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her waist to reveal a simple linen bra and panties, their plainness only sharpening her allure."
Mike's breath caught, his gaze locked on her full, heavy breasts—big, round, and straining against the thin cloth, her "jugs," as his dream-mind boldly named them, a vision that set his pulse racing.
His hands trembled, the air thick with anticipation, but desire overpowered hesitation. He reached out, fingers brushing the soft curve of her chest, then boldly cupping her breasts. They were warm, yielding under his touch, and he pressed harder, marveling at their weight, his thumbs tracing circles that drew a soft gasp from Althea.
Ahhggg,The sound spurred him on, and with a fumbling haste, he tugged at her bra, the cloth giving way to bare her skin to the candlelight.