Chapter 406: Finished 2

She had not put the panties back on, and at the sight of her soft, pale skin and the damp, glossy heat between her thighs, Lor’s breath went out of him in a rush.

Her ass was round and soft, slightly pink and tender from earlier, the cheeks still flushed.

A faint sheen of dried fluid clung to the inside of one thigh and caught the light.

The cool air touched her bare skin and she shivered. She pushed her hips back, just slightly, without being asked. The movement made her cheeks part just enough for him to see the soft, open place between them, still faintly pink and glistening.

"You’re already wet," he whispered.

"I’ve been wet since the restaurant," she whispered back, so quietly he almost missed it.

He unfastened his trousers and took himself in hand. He was hard again, almost embarrassingly fast, and he guided the tip against her slick entrance and pushed in slowly, an inch at a time.

Her whole body trembled.

Her fingers curled tight around the rim of the wheel, and she bit down on her lower lip until it went white. The stretch was hot and immediate.

She was tight around him, still sensitive from earlier, and the wet heat of her clung to every inch as he sank deeper.

"Good girl," he breathed, and sank in all the way.

She made no sound at all.

Her breath shook out of her through her nose. She was tight and hot and soft around him, and she was clenching in small, desperate pulses that made his knees weak.

He held her hips with both hands and began to move, short and shallow at first, then longer, then faster.

Each stroke drove a small wet sound out of her body that she could not stop.

"Fresh Warm Eggs for 2 silver a dozen!"

On the other side of the fence a man called out the price of a basket of eggs.

Nellie squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against the wood. Her ass was still slightly pink from earlier, the soft cheeks warm under his hands, and every thrust made them shift and press together around him.

The voices on the far side of the fence grew louder. A woman stopped to argue over the price of cabbage, so close that every word came through the boards.

Lor slid an arm around Nellie’s front and clamped his palm over her mouth.

"Quiet," he murmured against her ear. "They’ll hear you."

She nodded jerkily against his hand. A tear slid down her cheek. Her moan went into his palm and no further. Her body was shaking.

Every time he pushed deep, her pussy clenched hard around him, and the wet sound of it was soft but clear in the narrow space between the wheels.

With his free hand he reached down between her legs and found the swollen point that had been neglected all day.

She jerked against him. Her whole body went rigid.

Her teeth closed on the heel of his hand, and she thrust her hips back to meet him, harder, again and again, all her shyness gone and nothing left but the need to finish.

Her thighs were trembling. A fresh wave of wetness coated his fingers.

"Wait," Lor whispered. "Someone’s coming in."

They froze.

Wheels creaked at the gap in the fence. A man came through it backwards, hauling a handcart piled with splintered crates and broken chairs, whistling a tuneless little song.

He did not look toward the far corner. He dragged the cart to a heap about ten meters from the wheel pile, tipped it, and let the whole load crash down in a long roar of timber.

Dust rolled across the ground.

Then he stood there scratching his belly and surveying his work, close enough that Lor could see the patches on his sleeves.

Nellie did not breathe. Lor did not breathe.

He was buried to the hilt inside her, and every tiny pulse of her body gripped him, hot and tight and frantic, and her hands had gone white on the wood. His palm pressed harder over her mouth.

Her breath shook against his fingers.

For one long moment she rocked back the smallest degree and drew him deeper, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop a groan.

Her ass pressed back against him. He could feel the soft, swollen heat of her pussy around the base of his cock.

At last the man spat, swung the empty cart around with a rattle, and wandered out through the gap, whistling, and the sound faded down the lane.

Nellie made a sound that was half a sob and half a laugh.

Lor started moving again, and this time he did not hold back. He drove into her hard and fast, his palm pressed over her mouth, his other hand circling her swollen clit, and in less than a minute she came, trembling from her knees to her shoulders, with a long, muffled whine against his palm.

The clench of her around him was too much. Her pussy pulsed in tight, rhythmic waves, and he pushed in deep, shuddered, and emptied himself inside her with a low groan he buried in her hair.

The heat of it filled her. She felt every pulse. Her legs shook hard enough that she had to lock her knees to stay upright.

They stayed like that, breathing, leaning against the wheel, until the rushing in their ears faded. The wood was rough under her palms. His breath was warm against the back of her neck.

Then Lor pulled out slowly, and she gasped.

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and, very gently, cleaned her.

More was still running down her inner thigh and into the lace top of her stocking than the cloth could catch, and she stood with her hands on the wheel and her face turned away, flushed from collar to hairline, and let him.

When he was done, she reached into the pocket of her skirt and drew out the panties she had balled up there at the restaurant, still damp.

She looked at them for a long, shamed moment.

Then she stepped into them one foot at a time, with her back to him, and drew them up over the lace tops of her stockings to hold everything in.

The fabric clung to her skin. She could feel the wetness already soaking through.

"S-so it doesn’t run," she mumbled. "On the way home."