Consensual availability where partners can initiate sex anytime, anywhere without asking. Free use fantasy explores constant access and spontaneous encounters. It's the ultimate permission slip turned lifestyle. Pushing the boundaries in the best way possible.
Ever since his folks checked out years back, Nate’s been living with Henry. No blood ties, just papers and habit, yet the place still felt solid until Bridget sashayed in and started redecorating like she owned every damn room. Nate hates the change, but Henry keeps telling him to play nice.
Then Nate walks into the kitchen and stops cold. Henry’s got Bridget bent over the counter, hammering into her so hard the mixing bowls rattle. They don’t even blink when Nate shows up; they keep right on fucking. Henry grins, breath steady, and drops the bomb: they’re free-use now. Sex anywhere, anytime, rules don’t exist.
Nate’s face twists like he just tasted battery acid. Still, he pops open the fridge, grabs cold cuts, starts slapping together a sandwich while Bridget’s moans fill the air. Their back-and-forth gets weirdly normal: sports scores, rent, who’s got the car tonight. All while Henry’s dick keeps pounding and Bridget’s tits bounce against the granite. Nate watches a drop of sweat run down Bridget’s spine and feels his own jeans tighten. The idea of free-use suddenly clicks hotter than he wants to admit.
Henry catches the bulge. Bridget catches the look. They grin, pull Nate in, and the three of them fuck like they’ve been waiting for the excuses to drop. Henry slides into Bridget’s ass while Nate takes her pussy, cocks rubbing together inside her on every stroke, every wet slap and grunt shared in one sweaty, twisted pile-up on the kitchen floor.
Ever since his folks checked out years back, Nate’s been living with Henry. No blood ties, just papers and habit, yet the place still felt solid until Bridget sashayed in and started redecorating like she owned every damn room. Nate hates the change, but Henry keeps telling him to play nice.
Then Nate walks into the kitchen and stops cold. Henry’s got Bridget bent over the counter, hammering into her so hard the mixing bowls rattle. They don’t even blink when Nate shows up; they keep right on fucking. Henry grins, breath steady, and drops the bomb: they’re free-use now. Sex anywhere, anytime, rules don’t exist.
Nate’s face twists like he just tasted battery acid. Still, he pops open the fridge, grabs cold cuts, starts slapping together a sandwich while Bridget’s moans fill the air. Their back-and-forth gets weirdly normal: sports scores, rent, who’s got the car tonight. All while Henry’s dick keeps pounding and Bridget’s tits bounce against the granite. Nate watches a drop of sweat run down Bridget’s spine and feels his own jeans tighten. The idea of free-use suddenly clicks hotter than he wants to admit.
Henry catches the bulge. Bridget catches the look. They grin, pull Nate in, and the three of them fuck like they’ve been waiting for the excuses to drop. Henry slides into Bridget’s ass while Nate takes her pussy, cocks rubbing together inside her on every stroke, every wet slap and grunt shared in one sweaty, twisted pile-up on the kitchen floor.
