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feel guilty. This beautiful, sophisticated woman's husband had been tempted away by me. With practiced nonchalance, I looked Amy directly in the eyes.

"Oh, I only have one afternoon class on Tuesdays, and it was canceled today," I lied smoothly, the words coming easily now. "I was just dropping by to get some tips on new things I could add to my workout since I'm becoming stronger and more fit."

Amy's smile remained polite, almost indulgent. "Oh, that's too bad Hudson isn't here," she said, a hint of genuine disappointment in her voice. "But you could always come back later and ask him." She paused, then tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over my figure. "Actually," she continued, "maybe I could give you some pointers if you have specific questions. I work out quite a bit myself, and we have a similar build."

A small, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips. "Years ago, I myself used to be a pudgy young thing, just like you, Beatrice. So I know the difficulty of transformation, and I'm happy to help." She then commented on my outfit, her tone slightly condescending. "It's also great that you're starting to discover fashion, finally, Beatrice, and choosing things that a college woman should wear." Her tone remained honey-sweet, but I felt her judgment keenly.

Months ago, this would have set me off, fueling a furious blush and an incoherent stammer. But I was more comfortable in my own skin now. I chose not to react, simply maintaining my polite smile. "I appreciate the offer, Amy," I said, my voice calm, "but I can just talk to Hudson some other time." I stood up to leave, and Amy also rose, her movements fluid and graceful.

Then, as if she had suddenly just thought of it, Amy suggested, "You know, Beatrice, you and I should go shopping sometime. I could help you pick out some clothes." She added politely that she knew my my mother was older and probably not much help with fashion.

Caught off guard, I was unsure how to answer. "Oh, that would be nice," I said, my voice a little stiff. "I may take you up on that offer."

Amy smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling. "Of course, dear," she said, her voice radiating neighborly kindness. "Neighbors should help one another out and be friends. Besides," she paused, her smile widening, her gaze holding mine with an almost predatory glint, "I know the kind of things Hudson likes."

My heart started to pound, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs, as I tried to comprehend the full, chilling meaning of her words. Suddenly, all my newfound confidence vanished, replaced by the insecure girl I used to be. My knees went weak. I felt a sickening lurch in my stomach, like I was going to be sick.

"Why... why should it matter what Hudson likes for my clothes?" I asked, my voice thin, a desperate whisper, trying to play dumb, trying to cling to the last shred of my innocence.

Amy's smile broadened, and she laughed, a bright, unconcerned sound. Her tone remained honey-sweet, but her eyes, when they met mine, held an unnerving clarity, a complete absence of surprise or anger. "Beatrice, dear," she said, her voice perfectly pleasant, as if discussing the weather. "You must really not think much of my intellect." Her smile, if anything, widened just a fraction, radiating a cheerful confidence. "I know you're fucking my husband."

I staggered back, feeling like I would be sick. My knees buckled, and I sat down hard on the couch, the plush cushions offering no comfort. My whole world shattered around me, the carefully constructed facade crumbling into dust. My mind raced, trying to grasp what would happen next, when Amy would tell my parents, how everything I knew was about to be destroyed.

Amy approached me slowly. She sat down next to me on the sofa. She took my hand, her fingers gently, reassuringly closing around mine, as if comforting a good friend. Her voice was calm, almost soothing. "Beatrice, dear," she began, her tone gentle, "it's quite naive of you to think I wouldn't know what goes on under my own roof. Or to think I couldn't see the way you make longing eyes at my husband, practically pleading for his touch and acknowledgment, even when his wife is around." She gave a soft, amused chuckle. "You're not a very good actress, dear."

My heart continued to pound, a frantic, terrified drumbeat against my ribs. Silent tears began to fall, hot and stinging against my cheeks. Amy seemed to pay them no mind.

"And you shouldn't think any less of yourself for failing to hide your little secret," Amy continued, her voice still perfectly composed, almost cheerful. "In fact, I know all about Hudson's dalliances with women."

"She knows," my mind screamed. "She knows."

"Yes, Beatrice," Amy went on, her gaze steady, a knowing glint in her eyes, "I know all about you fucking my husband in the guest room and even in my own bed." My breath hitched, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over me. "And I know about Lana from his office. And I know about Becky from the gym."

"Becky!" I gasped, a choked sound, a fresh wave of shock hitting me. I knew exactly who Becky was. I used the same gym as Amy and Hudson. I'd never seen Hudson with her, not even a fleeting interaction, but I could picture her perfectly in my mind: a trainer in her late 20s with a short, ginger pixie cut and the same ample physique as the other women Hudson was fucking. Amy must have seen the surprise, the genuine shock in my eyes. She adopted a mock pitying tone.

"Oh, dear," she said, her voice laced with a playful sympathy. "How long did poor little Beatrice think she was the only one? It must have come as quite a shock when you found out about Lana, but your face makes it obvious you didn't know about Becky, did you?" She gave a small, knowing laugh. "My dear husband does like to spread his attention around, you see. He craves variety."

I was shattered. My mind reeled at just how informed she was. How could she possibly know that I was aware of Lana? Did she somehow read my thoughts? A primal instinct surged through me. I had to run. Or I had to put up some sort of fight. I couldn't just concede, not now. I couldn't let this woman tell my parents and ruin me. Through my tears, I tried to lie.

"I don't understand where these accusations are coming from," I stammered, my voice trembling, tears streaming down my face. "There must be some misunderstanding. I'm innocent! Yes, maybe I have a little crush on Hudson, but nothing has happened. He's never acted on it."

Amy's smile broadened, and she laughed politely and condescendingly, a bright, unconcerned sound that grated on my raw nerves. "Perhaps you're right, Beatrice, dear," she said, adopting an obvious faux-confused tone. "Maybe I've made a big mistake. Maybe it's all a misunderstanding." She released my hand, her fingers gliding smoothly away. Then, she picked up a remote from the coffee table and, with a confident flick of her wrist, turned on the large smart TV mounted on the wall.

For a minute, my mind was focused on my confusion, on the sudden shift from confrontation to this bizarre, theatrical display. Amy quickly pulled up an app I didn't recognize. Then, she opened a video. Immediately, I recognized it. It was a camera showing the master bedroom. The angle, clearly from near the nightstand, was focused on the bed. A color, high-definition video started playing, complete with sound.

And there it was. My own face, a mix of overwhelmed bliss, my eyes squeezed shut. The sounds of my own moans filled the room, raw and uninhibited. I didn't need the audio to know what was being said. I had replayed the day over in my mind a hundred times. But I heard it anyway: the wet slapping of skin, Hudson grunting, and finally, his voice, rough with desire, telling me to cum in his wife's bed, calling me a slut, and then saying he was going to cum inside me.

Amy let the video play, showing every humiliating detail until her husband filled me with his cum. I watched, horrified, as my own body convulsed, my hand desperately rubbing my clit, my hips bucking as I came a second time in Amy's bed, while Hudson brutally fucked me. Sitting there in the living room, watching myself, I started to sob.

Amy paid me no mind. With a calm click of the remote, she pulled up another video. It was another angry fuck. But this time, it was Hudson with Lana. The beautiful Latina was face down, being fucked from behind, in the exact same position, in the exact same bed. Hudson berated her the same way he had me, his voice a low growl, telling her to look at his wife's photos on the nightstand while he used her like a cheap slut.

I was crushed. Not only was I one of many, but I had been used in the exact same way. Fucked in the same manner. It was all part of some routine for him. On the video, Hudson told Lana he was going to cum in her pussy.

Amy smiled at me then, a soft, almost wistful smile. It wasn't mean. It was the kind of smile you use when you pity someone. Then she pulled up another video. This time, it was Becky, the girl from the gym. It was another hard fuck from behind as she faced the nightstand, and Hudson called her a slut and a homewrecker. He promised to cum in her.

Amy stopped the video. She looked at me, her gaze soft, and reached out, taking both my hands in hers again. She started to comfort me, her voice gentle and patronizing. "Oh, Beatrice, dear," she cooed, "I know you must be in shock. Just breathe, dear. Just breathe."

I felt so insulted that this woman was calmly destroying my world, yet still comforting me with such practiced ease. But then, a sickening clarity dawned on me. Amy wasn't the one who had fucked someone else's husband. I was nothing but a dumb slut who had let herself be used. I managed to contain my sobs, but the stinging tears still fell, running down my cheeks.

Amy picked up the remote again.

"No," I pleaded, my voice a raw whisper, pulling my hands away from her. "No, don't." I didn't need to see anymore. I didn't want to see Hudson with some woman who hadn't been named yet.

Amy smiled softly, a knowing twinkle in her eye. "Oh, I think you may like this next one a little more, dear."

Amy started another video. Again, the screen showed the master bedroom. Again, I saw Lana on the bed. This time, she was on her back, the crown of her head facing the camera. She writhed and moaned with delight, her knees up and her thighs spread wide. Between them, I saw the top of a woman's head eagerly eating Lana's pussy, making her moan. I knew who the other woman was even before she looked up. Still, I watched the image, waiting for confirmation. On the camera, the other woman raised her head. It was Amy. She called Lana "baby" and asked if it felt good.

I was overwhelmed with emotion. Confusion swirled, hot and thick, in my mind. A sharp pang of jealousy shot through me, seeing Lana, the woman I had forged such an intimate connection with, getting pleasure from someone else. I felt silly, because of course it was obvious that Lana was experienced. But this was Amy! I felt confused.

Not only did Amy know about Hudson's dalliances, but she'd also had sex with at least one of the women. I watched Lana writhe in the sheets, and another emotion surfaced, just for a moment: I was certain that Lana had been more vocal and on fire when I was eating her pussy. But quickly, the confusion came back.

"What the hell is this?" I asked Amy, my voice choked with disbelief.

Just then, Hudson appeared on the screen. He was completely naked, stroking his dick at the side of the bed and watching the two women. I was desperate to understand. "Amy, what am I seeing?" I demanded, my voice raw.

Amy stopped the video. She took my hand again, her touch gentle and composed. "Dear, sweet girl," she began, her voice radiating calm reassurance, "I know about everything that happens in my home." Her smile remained bright, almost cheerful. "And I know everything that happens outside my home with my devoted husband, too." She raised a hand to caress my shoulder, gently rubbing through my soft knit top. It was calming, but also very intimate, a soothing presence despite the chaos in my mind.

Amy continued explaining, her voice a pleasant, conversational tone. "I know you probably thought Hudson was some mastermind, preying on women and thinking he's getting away with it. Or perhaps you just thought he's a guy who can't control himself, who takes stupid risks and got caught." She paused, her smile not faltering. "But what you need to understand, my dear, is that Hudson is hopelessly, completely devoted to me. He wouldn't do a thing without my approval, and it has been that way since we first met ten years ago, when he was just a hapless bachelor and I set my eyes on him."

My mind was blown as I listened, stunned. I sat on the couch, letting Amy rub my shoulder and upper arm with one hand while her other hand clasped one of mine, her thumb gently rubbing circles. Over time, I had come to suspect that Amy was just one of many buxom women seduced by Hudson. Perhaps even the first. And that she had left him unfulfilled somehow, so he had seduced Lana and me and whoever else. Now, I wondered if Amy was the puppet master all along. I questioned her, my voice still thick with confusion, asking if I had just been some sort of conquest that she'd planned.

Amy was amused by the question. She laughed, a rich, sensual sound, filled with genuine mirth. "Obviously, there's no way I could have predicted that you would accidentally send my husband a revealing photo, and how things would play out."

"But," she admitted, "I have always been open to the idea, and perhaps influenced it in some way." Her touch became more tender, more sensual, her fingers tracing soft patterns on my arm as she spoke. "I thought you could be very attractive, Beatrice, if you started working out and dressing better. I noticed when you started coming to the gym after you began college, and I encouraged Hudson to offer you tips." She gave my arm a gentle squeeze. "And I made it perfectly clear to him that if anything happened between you two, I approved of it." She leaned in slightly, her voice a soft murmur. "You've really blossomed, dear. Your newfound confidence suits you. And you are very beautiful, Beatrice. Truly." It was clear she was being flirtatious.

I wondered if Amy was seducing me. On some level I was offended, and still confused. I couldn't process what was happening. Amy, sensing my turmoil, continued to caress my arm and hand, her touch soft and sensual. "I know it's a lot to process, dear. Tell me, what are you thinking right now?"

My tears had dried on my cheeks, leaving them stiff and cool. "I don't know what to think," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I don't know how to act."

Amy smiled warmly. "You're very pretty, Beatrice. You're very sexy."

"Do you need some time to think, dear?" she asked.

I didn't know how to answer.

"Do you want to leave? To go home?" she asked gently. "You don't have to worry," she added, her voice still perfectly calm and reassuring, "I'll never tell your parents what's been going on."

Hearing that was like a physical weight being lifted from me, though honestly, with all the revelations, I had forgotten all about them potentially finding out.

"Do you... would you like me to leave, Amy?" I nervously asked.

"I think you already knew the answer to that question, dear," Amy softly said.

I nodded, confirming I knew the answer. Part of me wanted to run, to forget this sordid mess and forget the person I had become, to try and find the innocent girl I once was again. To focus on finding love and being chaste.

But deep down, I knew that person was gone, and that was never who I was meant to be. It was who my parents expected me to be. Even though I didn't feel bold, like I had with Lana, I psyched myself up and decided to fake it. I leaned forward and kissed Amy on the lips, catching her off guard. After the initial surprise, Amy responded warmly, pulling me into an embrace and kissing me deeply.

"That's unexpected," Amy murmured, her voice appreciative, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "But I like it. Very bold of you, Beatrice. Very bold."

My mind raced. I didn't feel bold. I was still a mess inside. I had no idea what I was doing, or if I should even be doing it. But I pushed through the confusion, forcing a confidence I didn't possess.

"You're very sexy too, Amy," I said, my voice a little breathless but firm. "I've always thought that, and I've admired your style, and your body." The words felt easier now, pouring out. "I was even jealous, actually." I kissed her again, hungrily, a desperate assertion of my own burgeoning desire.

Amy giggled playfully, a light, sensual sound. "Oh, I noticed the jealousy, dear," she commented, a hint of amusement in her voice. "And I'll admit," she whispered, her lips brushing mine, "maybe I pushed your buttons a couple of times on purpose, trying to get a reaction."

A hot flash of anger surged through me, again feeling like I'd been manipulated all along. "You're such a bitch," I hissed, the words slipping out before I could stop them. In my mind, I couldn't believe I'd said it; it was so out of character for me, so unlike who I'd always been.

Amy laughed, a rich, sensual sound that vibrated against my lips. "I'm a little bit of a bitch," she admitted between laughter and kisses.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Bea?" she asked playfully, her eyes twinkling. "Do you want me to fuck you in my marital bed that I share with my husband?"

"I don't know what I want," I admitted, but still, I kissed her, my hands finding her shoulders, gripping them with a sudden, desperate possessiveness. "I've been used and manipulated and lied to," I continued, my temper flaring a bit, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I've been a pawn in your game!" My kisses grew more aggressive, my teeth nipping at her lip.

"Let me make it up to you, dear," Amy murmured, her hands moving to cup my face, her voice soothing and seductive. "Let me make you feel good."

Mindlessly, I got up and headed towards the master bedroom, my feet already knowing the way. Amy followed, a soft smile on her lips. As I reached the doorway,I turned to Amy. "You can't record this," I said, my voice firm and out of character.

Amy smiled, her gaze soft. "Of course not, dear." She reached into a nearby drawer, pulled out a pillowcase, and tossed it deftly over a decorative wall hanging above one of the nightstands. I knew instantly that was where the camera must be, based on the angles in the videos I had just seen.

We fell into bed together, the kissing more intense now, a swirling mix of passion and lingering anger. I wondered to myself if this was what they called a hate fuck. My fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons of Amy's delicate red blouse. Then, in a move mirroring what Hudson had done to me in the very same room, I lost my patience and simply pulled the blouse open, sending buttons flying across the room, revealing the deep red, lacy bra Amy was wearing beneath.

"Oh, my," Amy commented, her voice breathless, a note of pleasant surprise in it. "You're so aggressive, Beatrice. It's so unexpected." She leaned into my touch, obviously liking it. "You're obviously no longer the wallflower you once were." She then worked the large buttons on my knit top, exposing my pastel peach bra.

We pushed down the straps on each other's bras, exposing our breasts. We slathered each other in kisses - lips, necks, cleavage, nipples. Once again, I found myself feeling something new. It was different than the things I'd felt with Hudson or Alex; different than the empowerment I'd felt touching Lana. It was a raw need, an animal lust for this woman I didn't know if I wanted or hated. We fondled and groped one another, my touch rough, reminding myself of when Hudson manhandled me. Amy didn't seem to mind, her moans growing deeper, more eager.

As the intensity built, Amy found the button and zipper on the front of my denim skirt and opened it. I, in turn, found the side zipper on Amy's tight skirt and slid it down. We wiggled out of our skirts, letting them fall to the floor. Amy quickly removed her tights, taking her red panties down at the same time. I removed my own peach colored panties. We paused, naked on the bed, sizing each other up and admiring our bodies. I couldn't believe this was happening. I thought maybe I should leave, this was all absurd. But I knew I wouldn't.

We kissed one another, our lips hungrily claiming each other's. My hands roamed over her body, exploring the firm curves of her ass, the soft swell of her hips, the smoothness of her skin. Her hands were just as eager, tracing the line of my hips, cupping my ass, pulling me closer against her. Our mouths moved together, deepening the kisses, our tongues intertwining in a sensual dance. I tasted her, a blend of sweetness and something subtly musky, intoxicating.

"Oh, Beatrice," Amy murmured against my lips, her voice warm and appreciative, "your titties are so nice. I want to suck on them so badly."

"Then do it," I commanded, the words surprising even myself with their boldness.

Amy chuckled softly, a low, sensual sound, and shifted, moving over me. Her warm mouth found my left nipple first, suckling gently, drawing it into her mouth with a soft, rhythmic pull. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through me, making my entire body arch. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, then teased it with soft bites, building an exquisite tension. As she lavished attention on one breast, her other hand descended, finding my cunt. Her fingers parted my wet folds, and her thumb began to stroke my clit, a gentle, precise friction that made me gasp. Then, two of her fingers, slick with my own wetness, slid into my pussy.

My hips instinctively lifted off the mattress, pushing myself into her touch. The simultaneous stimulation - her mouth on my nipple, her thumb working my clit, her fingers deep inside me - was overwhelming, shattering any lingering anger or confusion. All that mattered was the raw, building pleasure. I moaned, a low, continuous sound that vibrated from my throat. Her fingers moved, scissoring gently inside me, then circling, finding that sweet spot that sent shivers down my spine. Her thumb continued its relentless rhythm on my clit, teasing, rubbing, driving me higher. I could hear her soft gasps, feel her breath hot on my skin as she devoured my breast. My head thrashed on the pillow, my entire body convulsing with sensation.

"You're so wet, Bea," Amy whispered against my breast, her voice thick with desire, "so good. Just let go, dear. Let yourself come for me." Her words, her touch, her unwavering focus on my pleasure, pushed me closer and closer to the edge. My muscles tensed, my breath caught in my throat, and then, with a sharp cry, a wave of pure, shattering orgasm consumed me. My body arched, my pussy clenching around her fingers, my breasts heaving, as I came hard, gasping for air, the pleasure profound and consuming. It was my first time cumming, Amy, who I still, on some level, saw as a nemesis.

As the pleasure subsided, leaving me trembling and breathless, Amy kissed my lips softly, then my forehead. "Oh, Bea," she murmured, her voice tender, laced with awe, "I want you to feel incredible. You're so beautiful, dear. So amazing." The tenderness surprised me, a gentle comfort that settled deep in my bones, and I found myself liking it, welcoming it.

"Now let me make you feel good," I whispered, still a little breathless, my hand reaching for her.

Amy laughed softly, a warm, sensual sound that made my skin tingle. "Oh, dear girl," she said, her fingers gently stroking my clit again, a soft, teasing motion that sent fresh shivers through me. "We don't have to trade orgasms. It doesn't have to be so transactional." Her eyes, warm and inviting, met mine. "I want you to sit on my face, Bea."

I was confused, the request alien to my inexperience. "On your...?"

Amy chuckled, a low, knowing sound, and gently guided me. She shifted on the bed, lying on her back, then helped me straddle her head, my body facing towards her feet. My legs were spread, my warm, wet pussy hovering just above her mouth. I could feel her breath, warm and soft, on my slit. Despite my inexperience, I realized with a sudden jolt that we were in position for a 69. Taking a nervous breath, I leaned forward, my lips parting, and tasted Amy for the first time.

Her pussy was warm and slick, a musky, sweet scent filling my nostrils. My tongue darted out, tentatively at first, then with more confidence, exploring the delicate folds, the sensitive clitoris. Her hips arched, pushing her into my mouth, and a soft moan escaped her lips. At the same time, her tongue was a hot, insistent presence on my own clit, circling, sucking, driving me wild. Her fingers slid between our bodies, expertly finding my clit and rubbing it with a steady, building pressure. My own fingers instinctively found her wetness, exploring the folds of her labia, mimicking her rhythm, searching for her clitoris. We moved together, a synchronized dance of tongues and fingers, each of us consumed with pleasuring the other. My moans mingled with hers, a symphony of raw desire.

I tasted her more fully, a complex, intoxicating mix of her natural scent and something else, something uniquely Amy. My senses swam, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of both giving and receiving. We worked each other into a frenzy, our bodies twisting, grinding, our breaths coming in ragged gasps, until the familiar, shattering wave of orgasm crashed over me, and I felt her body convulse beneath my mouth as she came, our pleasure peaking in a synchronized explosion.

"Don't stop, Bea," Amy gasped, her voice raw, pleading, her hips still bucking beneath me even as her orgasm subsided. "Please, honey, don't stop."

I didn't. We continued in that intimate position for several minutes, a relentless cycle of building pleasure and release. My tongue was tireless, tasting her, sucking her, grinding against her clit, while her fingers and mouth continued their relentless assault on my own sensitive flesh.

Again, the familiar tension built, a dizzying ascent to another climax. Our moans grew louder, more desperate, filling the room. My legs trembled, my body a continuous tremor of pleasure, until once more, we shattered together, two bodies convulsing in a shared, profound orgasm that left us breathless and spent.

After a few moments, I removed myself from Amy, my body still thrumming with the echoes of pleasure. Most of the animosity I had felt towards her, the anger, the confusion, seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a quiet contentment. I just wanted to be in her arms, to enjoy the afterglow. I nestled into her side, and she wrapped an arm around me, holding me close as we kissed softly, tenderly.

"Beatrice," Amy murmured, her voice soft, a hint of emotion in it. "I am truly sorry. For everything. For putting you through hell. For manipulating you." Her voice caught, and I felt a tremor run through her. "I really can be such a bitch. I'll make it up to you, Bea. If you'll allow me."

I didn't answer, simply pressing my face into her neck, breathing in her scent. Deep down, despite any lingering conflict, despite the dizzying revelations of the day, I knew I wasn't ready for this adventure to end. We kissed and cuddled, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, and slowly, together, we drifted into a contented sleep.

I woke up naked under the sheets in Amy's arms. The early evening sun cast long, low shadows across the master bedroom, painting the opulent space in hues of gold and rose. I felt a subtle shift in the air, a presence. Someone was in the house.

Moments later, Hudson appeared in the bedroom doorway. He wasn't surprised to see us, naked and tangled in the sheets. Clearly, Amy and he had planned the day's events, including Amy's confession to me. He looked good in his dress shirt and slacks, perfectly composed, but I could tell my feelings for him had changed. He was no longer the man I thought he was; I also knew he wasn't the one in charge. Amy was.

Amy stirred beside me, her eyes fluttering open. She looked lovingly at her husband. "You missed a lot of fun, dear," she told him, her voice playful.

Hudson smiled, a hint of anticipation in his dark eyes. "I hope the fun isn't over yet," he said.

Amy looked at me, a silent question in her gaze, clearly letting me make the decision. Instead of speaking, I turned back to Amy, reaching for her. My lips found hers, initiating a deep kiss. Our naked bodies, warm and soft from sleep, tangled up in the sheets, our limbs intertwining as our mouths devoured each other. I heard Amy's soft moans begin, a sweet sound of pleasure. My hands roamed over her curves, rekindling the heat that had just cooled.

As our kisses deepened and our moans grew louder, Amy pulled back slightly, her eyes still heavy-lidded with desire. "Why don't you get undressed, dear," she murmured to Hudson, her voice a low purr, "so you can please our sweet Beatrice?"

Hudson, ever compliant, began to slowly undress, his gaze fixed on us as we continued to touch and tease one another. My fingers stroked Amy's smooth skin, tracing the delicate curve of her ribs, then circling her nipple, which was already hard and peaked. Amy's mouth found my own nipple, suckling, her tongue flicking around the sensitive peak, making me gasp. We fondled each other's breasts, our hands kneading, our fingers teasing, our moans filling the room, growing louder with each passing second.

Hudson, now completely naked, stood at the side of the bed, slowly stroking his big dick. The sight of it still caused a needy feeling in me, a familiar tightening in my core. His cock, thick and long, pulsed with anticipation.

"Do you want my husband to fuck you, Bea?" Amy asked, her voice a soft, sensual whisper against my ear.

"I want to watch him fuck you," I replied, my voice surprising even myself with its sudden boldness.

Amy chuckled softly, then rolled onto her back, making space for Hudson to climb into bed between my spread thighs. He moved to mount her.

"No, not like that," I commanded, my voice firm, asserting my newfound control. "I want to see her get fucked from behind while Amy eats me out."

Amy smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement and agreement. She quickly obliged, shifting onto her hands and knees between my spread thighs, facing away from Hudson. Her head dipped, and her warm, wet tongue immediately found my slit, beginning to lick my pussy. At the same time, I heard the tell-tale sound of flesh slapping flesh as Hudson mounted his wife from behind and started fucking her.

Amy's tongue was a hot, relentless presence on my clit, circling, teasing, sucking me into her mouth with skilled precision. Her fingers slid into my pussy, two of them expertly working me, grinding against my G-spot, while her thumb rubbed my clit with a dizzying rhythm. I moaned, loud and unrestrained, my hips instinctively bucking against her mouth, pushing myself deeper into her pleasure. From behind Amy, I heard Hudson grunting, his body pounding into his wife's, a rhythmic thudding that resonated through the bed. I watched, my vision blurring with a mixture of my own intense pleasure and the primal, voyeuristic thrill of seeing them. Amy's ass, round and firm, bounced with each of Hudson's powerful thrusts, her wet, slick cunt taking his big dick deep.

"Oh, yes," I gasped, my voice thick with desire, my hands automatically finding my own nipples, twisting and tugging at them, desperately amplifying the sensations. "Eat me, Amy! Eat me until I scream!" My eyes were fixed on Hudson, on the powerful thrusts of his hips as he drove into his wife. "Harder, Hudson!" I demanded, a sudden, surprising burst of cockiness in my voice. "Fuck her harder! Fuck your bitch wife like the fucking slut deserves!" The words, so aggressive, so unlike the old me, felt empowering, a raw release of all my pent-up anger and resentment.

Amy's mouth worked tirelessly on my clit, sucking me higher and higher, her fingers relentless inside me, sending waves of pure pleasure through my body. Hudson's grunts grew deeper, his thrusts faster, pounding into Amy with a furious intensity that made her moan and cry out beneath him. I watched as Amy's hips bucked, her body convulsing, and I knew she was getting close. My own climax was building, a relentless tide that consumed me. My body trembled, my moans becoming desperate cries.

"Cum for me, Bea!" Amy gasped, her voice muffled against my pussy, as her fingers worked my clit with a final, desperate urgency. At the same moment, with a deep groan, Amy's body tensed against mine, her fingers clenched inside me, and a wave of pure, shattering orgasm consumed me. My body arched, my pussy clenching around her fingers, my breasts heaving. As I cried out, Amy's hips thrust into Hudson with renewed force, and I watched her own body shudder with the profound, overwhelming release of her climax. Hudson, his face contorted in a mask of primal lust, continued to pound into his wife, her moans becoming ragged gasps as she rubbed her own clit with a frantic hand, bringing herself to a second, shuddering orgasm under his relentless assault.

"Don't you dare cum yet, Hudson!" I commanded, my voice sharp, powerful, breaking through the haze of pleasure.

He immediately pulled his big dick out of his wife's wet cunt, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body still trembling with unreleased tension. Amy, her pussy still glistening from his pull-out, looked up at me, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and obedience.

Amy shifted on the bed, and I moved with her, both of us turning towards Hudson. His thick, wet cock, still hard as a rock and pulsing, was now offered to us. Amy reached for him first, her soft hand wrapping around his shaft, guiding his big dick to her mouth. She took him in, her lips closing around him, suckling gently. I watched, my gaze fixed on her mouth as she worked him, her cheeks hollowing. Then, she pulled back, her eyes meeting mine, a silent invitation. I leaned in, my tongue darting out, licking a bead of his cum from the head of his cock, tasting Amy's essence mingled with his. The taste was hot, musky, and intoxicating. I lowered my head and opened my mouth, taking his large cock deep into my throat, feeling the incredible stretch, my throat aching with the effort. I pulled back slowly, drawing him out, then plunged him in again, taking him deeper, trying to swallow him whole. My hand found his balls, gently cupping and stroking them as I worked him with my mouth.

We took turns, one woman deep-throating him, sucking him, while the other worked his balls, stroking them, teasing them. In between, our mouths met, Amy and I kissing, our tongues exploring the taste of him on each other's lips, sharing the forbidden sensation. We edged him, slowly, exquisitely, bringing him to the brink of climax again and again, then pulling back just before he could shatter, our eyes fixed on his face, watching his growing desperation. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body tensing, his fingers gripping the sheets. He pleaded, his voice hoarse, "I need to cum! Please! I need to cum!"

"Cum for us, Hudson!" I commanded, my voice sharp and demanding, echoing his earlier words to me.

"Yes, my good boy!" Amy cooed, her voice equally insistent. "Cum for your girls! Cum for us!"

Hudson groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. With a few final, powerful strokes of his dick, he popped, shooting a thick, hot stream of cum across my face and breasts, some of it splattering onto Amy's chest as well. It was warm, sticky, and gloriously messy.

We leaned in, our faces close, our tongues darting out to lick his cum off each other's faces and tits, tasting his seed, a deliciously depraved act of shared intimacy. Afterwards, the three of us relaxed on the big bed, our bodies intertwined, our skin slick with sweat and cum. I lay in the center, Amy's arm draped over me, Hudson's hand resting on my hip.

"Beatrice," Amy murmured, her voice filled with tenderness and genuine happiness, "we are so, so happy to meet you. You're simply incredible."

"Truly incredible," Hudson echoed, his voice rough with contentment. "We hope we can continue to explore this dynamic, Bea."

I didn't answer, just smiled, playing coy, enjoying the feeling of keeping them wondering. But deep down, I already knew I'd be back. I was eager to explore just how much control I could exert over the two of them. I felt powerful, a thrilling sensation that coursed through my veins, and I believed I could exploit that to my advantage. In my mind, there was no going back to who I once was. Now, I wanted to push things to their limits. But I didn't say any of this to them. I just kept this to myself, basking in the afterglow, lying between them, utterly in charge.

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