Chapter 163: Life of Sex

The earlier continuous orgasm had left her sensitive enough that even the light pressure of her own fingers made her hips twitch. He felt the occasional flutter of her tongue when those twitches reached her.

When he was fully hard again he drew back until only the head remained between her lips. Jane looked up at him, mouth still open, a thin line of saliva connecting them. He reached down, took her by the upper arms, and turned her so she faced the wall of the stall. The tiles were cold against her palms when he placed her hands there. He stepped in behind her, one hand sliding around her waist to rest low on her stomach, the other guiding himself back to her entrance. Jane’s breath caught. She was still open from before, still slick enough that the first push met almost no resistance until he reached the deeper point where her body tightened around him again.

He stopped there, buried to the base, and held still. Jane’s forehead rested against the wall. Her breathing came in short, controlled pulls. Outside the stall the hallway stayed quiet, but the risk of another set of footsteps kept every motion small. He stayed deep and began to move in slow, grinding circles rather than thrusts, letting the head of his cock press and shift against the same sensitive place that had made her womb push outward earlier. Jane’s fingers curled against the tile. A low, strained sound left her throat and she bit down on it at once, turning it into a shaky exhale.

"Quiet," he said against her ear. His hand on her stomach pressed lightly, feeling the faint outward give each time he ground deeper. "They are still close."

Jane nodded, the motion small. Her hips pushed back against him in tiny increments, matching the slow circles. Each time he shifted she felt the renewed stretch and the heat that had never fully left her. The continuous orgasm from before had faded into a constant, low pulse, and the grinding kept that pulse from dying. Fluid continued to escape around him in small amounts, running down both their thighs and dripping to the floor they had just cleaned. She tried to clench and hold it, but the motion of him inside her made the effort useless. Each slow circle pushed more out.

He kept the pace deliberate for several long minutes, one hand braced on the wall beside hers, the other staying low on her stomach. Jane’s legs began to shake. The position and the restraint made every small movement feel larger. When her breathing grew too loud he covered her mouth with his palm again. She pressed her tongue against it, the same way she had earlier, and her eyes stayed closed. The grinding continued. Outside, a door opened and closed farther down the hall. Voices, too distant to make out words. Jane’s whole body tightened around him at the sound. He stayed buried and still until the voices faded, then resumed the slow circles.

"Dad," she whispered against his palm, the word barely audible. "It’s starting again. I can’t... I can’t keep it quiet if you keep doing that."

He moved his hand from her mouth to her throat, not squeezing, only resting there so he could feel the way her pulse jumped. "Then don’t try to stop it. Just keep your voice down."

Jane’s answer was a broken exhale. Her hips pushed back harder, seeking more of the pressure that was already building. He gave it to her in the same restrained motion, grinding deep and holding, then shifting just enough to drag against the swollen place inside her. The low pulse in her abdomen sharpened. Her thighs trembled harder. A fresh wave of fluid escaped around him and pattered onto the tiles between their feet. She made a small, helpless sound and pressed her forehead harder against the wall, trying to muffle it.

He felt the flutter of her around him and stayed exactly where he was, letting the orgasm roll through her in slow, continuous waves rather than a single peak. Jane’s knees nearly buckled. He held her up with the arm around her waist, keeping her against the wall and against him. Her breathing turned ragged against the tile. Another set of footsteps passed outside, closer this time, and she went rigid, the orgasm still moving through her while she fought to stay silent. He covered her mouth again until the steps were gone. When he lowered his hand she was shaking, her eyes open but unfocused, a thin line of saliva at the corner of her mouth where she had bitten her lip.

"Still coming," he said quietly. It was not a question. He could feel the continuous clench and release around him, the way more fluid kept spilling past the seal of their bodies. Jane nodded once, a small motion against the wall. Her voice, when it came, was hoarse and low.

"It hasn’t stopped since you... since before. Every time you move it just keeps going."

He drew back a fraction, then pressed in again, slow and deep. Jane’s breath left her in a long, controlled exhale. The motion pushed another rush of fluid out. It ran down her thighs and his, dripping steadily now. The sound was soft but clear in the small space. He stayed buried and began the grinding circles once more, slower than before, watching the way her back arched and her fingers pressed white against the tile. Outside the stall the hallway remained empty, but the distant murmur of voices somewhere in the building kept the tension tight. Jane’s hips rocked with him in tiny, helpless motions. Each circle dragged another quiet sound from her throat that she immediately swallowed.

Minutes stretched. The continuous release left her legs weak enough that he had to support most of her weight. Her stomach pressed against his palm with every slow grind, the faint outward push returning each time he seated himself fully. Jane’s eyes stayed half closed. Her mouth stayed open against the wall, breathing in short, careful pulls so the sound would not carry. When another wave crested she went still except for the flutter inside her and the tremor in her thighs. He held her through it, buried deep, one hand still at her throat so he could feel the jump of her pulse. Fluid continued to escape in a steady trickle that pooled between their feet and began to spread again across the tiles she had cleaned.

He stayed inside her until the latest wave eased into the same low, constant pulse. Only then did he draw back far enough to slip free. Jane made a small sound at the loss. A thicker rush followed him out, running down her thighs in visible lines. She reached back at once, trying to press her fingers against herself again, but he caught her wrist and held it.

"Leave it," he said. "Turn around."

Jane turned slowly, her back against the wall now, legs unsteady. The fluid continued to leak. It ran over her fingers where she had tried to stop it and dripped from her hand onto the floor. Her eyes stayed on his face, glazed and waiting. He stepped in close again, one hand sliding under her thigh to lift it. The motion opened her further. More escaped. He guided himself back to her entrance and pushed in with the same slow, deliberate pressure, watching her face as her eyes widened and her mouth opened on a silent inhale. The angle was different. Her back pressed flat to the cold tile. Her raised leg hooked over his arm. He stayed deep and began to move again, short, grinding thrusts that kept him pressed against the same sensitive depth.

Jane’s head tipped back against the wall. Her free hand gripped his shoulder. Each grind made her stomach press outward against his palm and made another quiet rush of fluid escape around him. The sound of it hitting the floor was louder now. She bit her lower lip hard enough that the skin turned white, then red. Her breathing stayed controlled but grew heavier. Outside, a door opened and closed again. Footsteps approached, then stopped somewhere nearby. Jane’s eyes flew open. She stared at him, panic cutting through the haze for a moment. He covered her mouth with his palm and stayed completely still, buried to the base, feeling the way her body clenched and fluttered around him even while she fought to stay silent.

The footsteps did not move on. A voice called something indistinct from farther down the hall. Jane’s pulse jumped hard under his hand. He kept his palm over her mouth and his cock deep inside her, waiting. The voice called again, closer. Jane’s eyes stayed locked on his, wide and pleading, her tongue pressed flat against his palm as another involuntary wave began to move through her from the simple fact of him staying buried while the danger sat just outside the door.

The handle of the stall door shifted once, testing.