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Motel Reminiscing

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They’d been kids when they’d taken their first roll in the hay. Jesse- he’d just been Jesse at that time, was so excited at the sight and scent of a glistening wet pussy that despite her hollering in pain, he’d kept trying to jab his cock in with a litany of “Sorry!”’s “Just a sec!” She’d punched him off her and kicked him to jerk himself off in the bathroom.

Times had changed- now here Ashe was, scrolling through a tablet in the next building over and pretending she couldn’t see her ex dicking his new sweetheart into oblivion in their motel room.


Back then, they were clumsy at first, just a boy and a girl and groping hands and bodies sliding together in a quick frenzy, mostly ending with Jesse heaving a content sigh and slipping his half-limp dick out from between her thighs- and right when she was getting into it too. He’d gotten the hang of it eventually. It took a few months of a firm hand before she taught him that he was not going to get away with just getting his own rocks off and leaving it at that- and well, if his dick wasn’t going to finish the job, his mouth was going to have to pick up the slack. Young Jesse had hated giving oral as much as he loved getting it, so it was a quick lesson for him.

Apparently he’d had grown out of that distaste, the way he spread Hanzo’s thighs around his head and proceeded to eat Shimada’s ass like a starving man, so enthusiastically she could practically hear the slurps and the squish of spit spraying everywhere. But McCree soon decided his other bits-and-pieces wanted a taste of the good stuff, and promptly flipped Hanzo over, took his own dick in hand, and started pressing in the red, bulbous head.

Shimada jerked, and Ashe winced in sympathy. McCree had always been a big boy. She hadn’t even been able to take him at all the first few times, and after that only with enough fingering- which was difficult considering the boy had been jumping-mad to stick it in. Which just showed her, if she wanted something done she had to do it herself, or else be bothered with an enthusiastic cowboy asking “Now? Now? Done? Now?” over her shoulder the whole time. Nothing killed the mood as quickly as his whining. But either way, that ugly lumpy veiny thing was so huge it hurt. And here was Shimada, taking it right up in the ass- if she had any respect for him, it was then. But she knew it was worth it- more than worth it, she remembered. That impossibly full, satisfying, stuffed-to-the-seams feeling when the shaft finally slid inside her without resistance, the stretch still there in the background just to remind her how much she was getting… Now that was a dick that could please like nothing else could. Ashe crossed her legs tightly at the memory of the sheer bulk he was packing, a warm, wet slick starting to pool in her panties.

Then, in the other building, McCree started thrusting so hard the entire bed rattled against the wall. Ashe scowled- sloppy but enthusiastic work, he always did that. She’d been not concerned, but surprised, when Shimada suddenly spasmed and went limp and still- but McCree didn’t seem worried, bracing himself on his elbows and hunching over the other man to compensate for their new position, his hips not even losing one beat.

How considerate. Wasn’t Jesse McCree always a gentleman, after all? Ashe scowled and lit up another cigarette, feeling her thighs quivering with need, and turned away to scroll through her newsfeed.

Sometime in the interval between her looking away from the window and her screen re-calibrating, Shimada had woken back up again and was probably auditioning for the Metropolitan Opera, the way he was singing praises to Jesse McCree’s unending stamina.

Well, Shimada ought to thank her. McCree used to be a hooting two-pump chump- a few thrusts and he was off sleepy as a snake. It was a habit she trained him out of, one cruel squeeze at a time. Now here was Hanzo, sitting pretty on McCree’s girthy dick, reaping the benefits of all her discipline as he rode his partner to satisfaction, not even bothering to jerk himself off as he arched his back and came on the pleasure of dick alone.

Back then, when McCree came, he came an obscene volume. She remembered how he'd push her down hard when he did, how every wave his dick gushed in felt like an electric current diverted through her, making her dizzy and shaky as a newborn foal.

From the way that Shimada tumbled, writhing, to the sheets, apparently McCree still did that. Hanzo was a solid wall of muscle though, McCree couldn't hold the other man down, at least not the way he could when they were just teenagers. But the assassin still shook like a leaf, curling in on himself like he couldn’t take the sensation of McCree pumping him full, while still wiggling his hips back into McCree’s, leaving Ashe pressed up to the smudgy window, her waist pressed firmly against the cracked plaster as she tried to get just a ghost of the sensations she was peeping.  

They fell back into the sheets together, a pile of sweaty skin and soaked hair. As she drew the blinds, she felt a pang of annoyance, irritation- Jesse’s fault. He shouldn’t be able to still stir this reaction in her, he’d lost that privilege long ago. That made her angry- and some things just don’t change.