The bruises Daphne had seen two days ago were gone. Tracey’s tanned skin was smooth and soft-looking; there were faint stretchmarks around the tops of her thighs and on her breasts, but if she felt self-conscious about them, it didn’t show as she guided Corner’s face down from her throat to her cleavage. He took the hint. He lifted her left breast out of her bra and wrapped his lips around the nipple. Tracey moaned softly, pleased, and Daphne blushed as she remembered Tracey doing the same thing to her. There was warmth spreading through her belly; arousal just beginning to pulse between her thighs.

She tore her gaze away and looked around the classroom for somewhere to sit. There was a chair – torn and stained with something, but solid-looking. She grabbed it, sat, and tried to ignore the dampness beginning to soak into her panties. By the time she looked back, Tracey had Corner sprawled on his back on the desk, his pants shoved down to his knees. Tracey was straddling his thighs, one hand working between their bodies. Daphne leaned in closer. She was stroking his cock; Daphne wrinkled her nose at the bulbous, flushed head that appeared and disappeared between Tracey’s fingers. She couldn’t see the appeal. Rather, her attention kept straying to Tracey and the way that her body was moving. Her hips were shifting, thrusting back onto Corner’s fingers with wet little noises. Her back was arched, and her breasts – overflowing from her bra – swayed with every movement.

Daphne bit her lip and squirmed.

She must have made some sort of noise to draw Tracey’s attention back to her, because she looked over then. She was flushed, her eyes dark – just like she had been when she’d looked up at Daphne and offered this. She licked her lips and smiled.

“Fucking them like this means you’re in control,” she said. “You control the pace. You control the depth.”

“And your bloke gets one hell of a view,” Corner piped up, sounding breathless.

Tracey laughed at that, flashing a quick grin down at him. “That too,” she said. She lifted herself, then, guiding the head of Corner’s cock between her thighs. She was still wearing her underwear and, when he pulled his fingers free of it, Corner helped her pull it to the side. Daphne shifted closer, pulling her seat to the side so she was positioned behind her friend. She didn’t want to see Corner so much as she wanted to see Tracey stretched around him.

Tracey rubbed Corner’s cock against herself a couple of times, catching that fat head against the lips of her cunt and smearing wetness between them. Daphne heard Corner swear softly as Tracey sank down on him. She took it slowly, leaning forward to give Daphne a better view of her body opening up for him. Tracey was breathing heavily. Her head was bowed and her hair falling forward, exposing the long, tanned lines of her back. Corner grasped at her hips; his fingers were shockingly pale, and the index and middle fingers of his right hand were still slick with Tracey’s juices even as they dug new bruises into her flesh.

Tracey moaned, rising up so that Corner was only just inside of her and sinking back down carefully, taking him all the way to the root. She did it again and again, moving faster each time, her moans rising in pitch each time.

Daphne watched avidly as Tracey moved, riding Corner’s cock with practised ease. There was moisture spreading down the length of his prick, gathering at the folds of Tracey’s cunt as she moved and soaking in to the lace of her underwear. All Daphne could hear was the sound of heavy breathing and the rhythmic slapping noise of wet skin – and her own heartbeat, hammering loud in her ears. She squirmed in her seat, pressing her thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the pressure building between her thighs. As she watched, Tracey tipped her head back – the ends of her hair trailing over Corner’s thighs – and glanced back at her. She smiled, slow and satisfied, and tipped Daphne a wink.

Daphne knew then, that this would become a regular occurrence. She grinned.