Jess saunters back from the kitchen, a fresh whisky cocktail in one hand and a cigarette glowing between her fingers.
The ice clinks softly as she crosses the room.
I’m still half-hard, cock twitching and leaking a slow string of pre-cum as I try to tuck myself back into my trousers after my wife left me frustrated and aching on the sofa.
Jess’s eyes flick down, catching the mess, and she gives me a playful little smirk.
Jess: “He’s hot, cuckie. Wifey left you like this? Poor thing… don’t worry, I’ll perk you right back up.”
She hands me the heavy glass, her fingers brushing mine just a second too long, then lights another cigarette and sinks into the sofa, fishnets whispering as she crosses her legs.
“Your wife’s probably getting properly railed right now,” she murmurs, voice warm and teasing. “That young bull’s going to wreck her tonight.”
My cock twitches again despite everything. Jess notices and laughs, soft and delighted.
“Another drink, cucky. And more snacks, I’m starving after all this supervising.”
I fetch them on shaky legs, the faint moans drifting down from upstairs twisting something deep in my gut.
When I return, Jess pats the cushion beside her.
“Come sit, handsome. Relax. This is exactly what you wanted, remember?”
She takes a slow sip of her own drink, then checks her phone.
She turns the screen toward me, volume loud at first.
It’s a shaky, POV shot from the bull: my wife’s cute arse up in the air, dress bunched around her waist, getting slammed hard from behind.
The angle is filthy, it looks like he’s buried deep in her arse, that thick, girthy cock stretching her open with every thrust.
Jess gasps, quickly turning the volume down as the wet, rhythmic slapping and my wife’s muffled moans fill the room for a split second.
Jess (breathing a little faster, shocked but clearly turned on):
“Fuck… he’s in her arse, cuckie. Look at the size of him.”
Her bare, still in the fishnets, grazes my thigh, slow and deliberate, toes tracing lazy patterns through my trousers.
Jess (leaning in closer, perfume wrapping around me): “If you’re very good tonight, maybe I’ll let you clean her up later.
My partner lives for that part.”
She pauses, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Or… maybe I’ll fuck the bull next time.
Think your wife would share?”
The night stretches on, filled with distant moans, Jess’s wicked grin, and the slow burn of her teasing.
I’m caught between dread, aching lust, and the strange, comforting warmth of her presence beside me.
And somehow, I’ve never felt more alive.
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