Again, I let him look as long as he liked. And he liked a long time. When he finally met my eyes, he held my gaze for a few seconds. "You gonna be lon...?" he asked. "Why?" I asked back. I straightened and turned around to face him, my nipples hard as chipped granite sticking out at him. "Gotta use the bathroom and you take too damn long." I noticed the bulge in his pants and I let him see me noticing. He looked away and, when he did, I felt the moment pass. "Hurry the fuck up!" he yelled at me. With his other hand, he slapped her, eliciting a sensual moan.“¿Quieres la polla, puta? Dime que quieres la polla,” he growled in Spanish.“Sí, papi. Give me that fat dick. Oh shit, that feels so fucking good, papi. You fuck me so good.”Aylar opened her mouth to scream for him, but her voice was choked by a sob. A rush of jealousy flooded through her. She was furious. He was hers. What was going on? How could this be happening? Was her pussy not good enough? Was he not satisfied? The questions. He was jerking off.Beth’s pool party was forgotten. The fact that Rick was married was forgotten. The chill of the AC, the quiet of the house, and my wobbly equilibrium after three beers – all of it was forgotten as I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, locking it.Rick looked over at me and snickered quietly. He was drunker than I.“Go use the other bathroom, you pervert,” he said, not really meaning it. I could tell.“It’s in Beth’s bedroom and I don’t want to go in there. I want to use. As I sat on a comfortable couch, I noticed Howard's small living room wasfurnished in expensive but well-worn pieces, probably hand-me-downs fromthe Lagrange family. There were few personal items in the room, limitedonly to a few framed photos on the small fireplace mantle. They appearedto be mostly family photos, and one in particular which caught my eyeshowed a smiling Howard with his arm around a pretty little girl of aboutten. In the background, I could see the skyline of Chicago, a city I.