Twice the guilt (Commission)
(Oh my girl's YooA X Male Reader (twice)) Wordcount: 19370 words
Warning: Cheating/NTR!!!
His suitcase waits by the door. YooA’s husband adjusts his watch and gives one last look around the living room. His flight is taking off soon. Another business trip far away. YooA is leaning against the sofa armrest. She’s dressed casually in an oversized sweater that hangs loosely off one shoulder. She looks up as he crosses the room.
“The contractor should be here later today.”
He reminds her, while slipping his jacket on.
“They’ll be doing some work around the house. Just let them in, show them where to go. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”
She nods easily.
“Got it. Don’t worry.”
He steps forward to kiss her. YooA accepts the kiss and smiles, before waving him off as he takes his suitcase and heads outside. The quiet click of the door echoes in the empty house as YooA sinks back into the sofa, scrolling idly through her phone.
The house becomes quiet after her husband left and YooA spends some more time lounging around, before she tosses her phone aside and stretches her arms above her head. An entire week alone. No work. Just her, completely alone in this big house.
She pads down the hall toward the bedroom with soft footsteps against the polished floor. The closet door opens, revealing rows of clothes, carefully hung and color coordinated. Her hand drifts past blouses, skirts and dresses, until her fingers catch on a box. A gift from her husband. It’s still nestled neatly on the shelf. She knows what’s inside. Lingerie. She smiles as she pulls it free, remembering his awkward grin when he handed it to her on her birthday. She hasn’t worn it for him yet. But maybe now…alone…is the perfect time.
Piece by piece, she lays it out on the bed. First, a bra made from delicate black lace, sheer enough that it reveals the skin underneath it, while trimmed with satin that glimmers under the light. Matching panties, thin straps on the hips and a front panel of lace. A garter belt with slender straps meant to hug her waist, complete with sheer thigh-high stockings folded neatly beside it.
YooA strips slowly, peeling her sweater over her head, then dropping it carelessly to the floor. Her shorts follow quickly, until she’s bare in the cool air. She slides into the panties first, tugging the thin straps over her hips. The bra comes next. The cool satin against her skin excites her as she fastens the clasp behind her back, before adjusting the straps until it lifts her just so. She catches her reflection in the mirror. Her breasts are cupped by black lace with the faintest glimpse of skin showing through. The garter belt wraps around her waist and the clasps click softly into place. She smooths the straps down, letting them dangle against her thighs before rolling on the stockings. The sheer black clings as she eases them up her legs, fastening them one by one to the garter straps.
By the time she’s done, she’s transformed. She’s no longer the bored wife lounging in a sweater. She’s someone sexy. Someone to be desired.
YooA lies back on the bed, feeling the cool sheets against her thighs. One hand drifts down between her legs with her fingers grazing over the lace and her core. A soft sigh escapes her lips.
But she wants more.
Reaching into the drawer beside the bed, she pulls out a smooth, silicone dildo. The weight of it in her hand sends a pulse of anticipation through her. She teases herself first and drags it lightly along the black lace, pressing the tip against her clothed slit until she feels wetness soaking through the fabric. Her other hand slips beneath the bra so her fingers can pinch her nipple as her hips lift slightly off the bed. The toy slides into her panties at last, pressing against her folds and rubbing in slow circles. A moan slips out. The sound is low and needy as she spreads her legs wider and her stockings stretch tight against her thighs.
YooA pushes the toy in slowly, savoring the stretch. Her breath catches as her body opens around it. Her lips part and a whimper catches in her throat as she sinks the toy deeper inside. Her hips rock against it faster and harder as her body arches against the sheets. The lace scratches faintly against her skin with each movement and has her nipples straining against the bra. Her thighs tremble as she fucks herself with steady, desperate thrusts. Her moans spill into the empty room and almost seem to echo in the silent house. Her voiceless pleasure mixes with the wet sounds of her toy sliding in and out of her.
The dildo slides deeper with each thrust as her body grows wetter. Her panties cling damply against her folds. YooA’s head tips back against the pillow, her lips are parted in a ragged sigh as she pushes the toy faster.
Her thoughts wander. At first, it’s just faceless lust. The idea of someone else watching her and seeing her like this. But slowly, the fantasy sharpens. She imagines the incoming contractor. Some stranger, rough around the edges, sweaty from work, standing over her. His cock thick and hard, brushing her lips while she kneels, looking up at him. Then another image slips in. Her husband. Stern, but hungry for her. Both of them together.
Her hand squeezes her breast through the lace as her hips buck upward against the toy. Her mind is spinning. She pictures herself on her knees between them, stroking one cock while sucking the other with drool running down her chin as they both use her mouth. The thought makes her shiver. Her pussy clenches tight around the toy as juices drip onto the sheets. She pushes the fantasy further. Her husband underneath her, pulling her down and impaling her pussy on his cock while the contractor presses into her ass. The stretch, the fullness and the helpless pleasure of being taken by both men at once has her body trembling just imagining it.
“Yes-fuck-”
YooA gasps, thrusting the dildo even deeper and even faster. Her thighs spread wider with the stockings taut against her skin. Her hips lift off the bed as she chases every pulse of sensation as the fantasy consumes her.
Her walls clamp down around the toy as the climax breaks. Her cry rips out of her throat, her body convulses as wave after wave of her orgasm crashes over her. Her juices spill out and soak through the thin lace and into the sheets, ruining the bed beneath her. She collapses back against the pillows, trembling, with her chest heaving and sweat dripping down her temple. The dildo slips from her hand. It’s slick and glistening. Her lingerie clings to her ruined body. She stares at the ceiling, still shuddering from the aftershocks. Her forbidden fantasy lingers in her mind as YooA lies in the bed for a long minute, her body still twitching a little. Her thighs are sticky and the sheets beneath her are soaked through. She exhales shakily and brushes her damp hair out of her face.
Finally, she forces herself up. The sheets are a mess. She strips them off the bed quickly, bundling them together, and carries them down the hall. The washing machine hums to life as she stuffs them inside.
Back in the bedroom, she slips her fingers beneath the garter straps, already ready to peel the lingerie off and toss it aside. As hot as it felt to wear it, she figures it’s safer to go back to something casual before the contractor arrives.
She reaches for the bra clasp-
Ding dong.
The sharp chime of the doorbell echoes through the quiet house.
YooA freezes. Her head snaps toward the sound.
“He’s early?”
Panic paints her voice.
She glances down at herself, still wearing lace and stockings. Her flushed skin is still slick with sweat. Definitely not how she can answer the door.
Her eyes dart around the room until they land on a robe draped across the chair. It’s red silk and almost looks like it’s burning in the light. She grabs it quickly, slipping her arms through the sleeves and pulls it closed over her body. The fabric softly wraps around her. Everything is covered, except for her stockings. But when the doorbell rings again, YooA decides to keep them on. She ties the sash tight at her waist and checks the mirror just once. She takes a deep breath, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and then hurries toward the door.
The bell chimes for a third time.
YooA’s hand hovers for a heartbeat over the handle before she pulls it open.
You climb the steps to the wide porch, toolbox in one hand, clipboard tucked under your arm. The house is big and spotless. It’s the kind of place that makes you glance twice at your work boots before stepping through the polished door. You wait after ringing the bell, shifting your weight, taking in the pristine hedges and the faint glimmer of a camera above the doorframe.
The lock clicks and the door swings open.
You’re greeted with the sight of a young woman, wrapped in a red silk robe that clings to her curves. Her hair is slightly tousled as if she’d just woken from a nap, but her eyes are sharp and alert. The silk sash is tied at her waist, but the fabric shifts when she moves, threatening to part just enough to tease the bare skin beneath. You wonder why she’s wearing stockings, because she doesn’t look like she was planning to leave the house today.
“You must be here for the work.”
“Yeah.”
You clear your throat as you lift the clipboard.
“Got a service order for this address. Shouldn’t take too long.”
She nods, stepping aside to let you in. The faint scent of her perfume drifts past you as you cross the threshold.
The house is beautiful and classy. And expensive. White walls, gleaming wood floors, carefully arranged furniture, a gorgeous chandelier. You feel out of place in your worn jeans and work shirt, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“I’ll show you where it is.”
Her bare feet pad softly against the floor as she leads the way down the hall. The red silk sways with every step, hugging the curve of her hips. You force your eyes upward, focusing on the clipboard, the hall, anything but the woman in front of you. Still, it’s impossible not to notice the way the robe flutters, and how the fabric of the stockings clings to her smooth skin.
She gestures toward a room, glancing back at you with a small smile.
“Here. This is where you’ll need to work.”
You nod, setting the toolbox down with a metallic thud, kneeling to inspect the space. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch her still standing there and watching you. Her arms are folded loosely across her middle as though she’s in no hurry to leave.
“Want some water?”
She asks after a moment, tilting her head slightly.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
You try to sound professional, though your throat feels dry for more than one reason. She smiles again and heads toward the kitchen. Crouching by the wall, measuring and checking connections, the low hum of your tools fills the silence. It’s routine, the kind of job you could do half asleep. But the house doesn’t feel routine. Not with her here.
The soft pad of her bare feet announces her return. You glance up just as YooA steps into the room, a tall glass of water in one hand. Her robe shifts whenever she moves. The silk catches the light, making the robe look like it’s burning. It hugs her waist in a way that’s hard not to notice. She must have a very slim waist. Even through the robe you can clearly see her hourglass figure.
“Here you go.”
Your fingers brush hers when you take the glass. You wonder if she feels the same thing you do when her delicate skin touches yours. You nod a thank you and drink. The cold water slides down your throat, helping you think clearly again.
She doesn’t leave after that. Instead, she lingers around, leaning lightly against the doorway, watching you work.
“You do this kind of thing often?”
She sounds casual, slightly curious.
“Every day.”
She smiles, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Must be interesting. Seeing how people live.”
You shrug.
“Sometimes. Though… not every house has someone keeping me company.”
Her cheeks flush slightly at your words, but she doesn’t move.
“Well… it feels rude to just leave you alone. And honestly, I don’t get much company during the day. My husband’s always traveling for work.”
Something shifts in her voice when she says husband. Not regretful or bitter. Just matter of fact, maybe even a little lonely.
“That must be tough.”
She hesitates.
”It is, sometimes.”
The room falls into silence again, but it isn’t uncomfortable. You feel her eyes on you as you work, like a subtle weight on your shoulders. It makes you more aware of yourself with your arms flexing as you tighten a bolt and the sweat beading at your temple. You can almost sense her watching.
When you glance up, she looks away too quickly, pretending to adjust the sash of her robe.
You finish another adjustment and stand, stretching your back. YooA’s eyes flicker up and linger a moment too long on your arms before she catches herself.
“You’re… pretty strong for someone who does this every day.”
You laugh under your breath.
“Comes with the job, I guess.”
Her smile widens a little.
“Guess so.”
It’s small talk. It’s supposed to be innocent enough. But the way her eyes wander down your arms, the way her fingers toy with the knot of her robe, it doesn’t feel innocent anymore.
You sip from your glass again, trying to look calm.
“So, what do you usually do while your husband’s away?”
She bites her lip faintly and you wonder if she’s been waiting for you to ask her that question.
“Keep busy. Read, exercise, maybe watch some dramas.”
Then, after a pause:
“But sometimes… I just get bored. The house is too quiet.”
Your gaze meets hers.
“And today?”
Her cheeks color again. She glances away, as if you just caught her thinking about something she shouldn’t be thinking about.
“Today’s… one of those days.”
The robe slips slightly off her shoulder as she shifts, revealing a glimpse of porcelain white skin before she pulls it back into place. You clear your throat, forcing your eyes back to the clipboard.
“Well, I’ll do my best to make the day less boring.”
That earns a laugh from her.
“I think you already are.”
The silence stretches after that. There’s more weight in it now. She still hasn’t left. She still stands nearby, the faint scent of her floral perfume lingering in the air between you.
When you catch her staring again you see something flicker in her expression. For her, this didn’t start as cheating. It was boredom. Loneliness. Curiosity. But standing here now, watching your muscles flex as you work, hearing the low timbre of your voice, she can’t ignore the thought that maybe - just maybe - her fantasy from earlier doesn’t have to stay in her head.
You continue kneeling while you work, measuring the lower section of the wall, trying to focus on the numbers. But focus is harder now. YooA still hasn’t left your side and keeps on watching you. You don’t know about her fantasy, but you can almost feel its weight on your shoulders.
She steps closer, her stocking covered feet soft against the wooden floor.
“So… how long have you been doing this kind of work?”
You glance up again, now surprised by how near she is. She’s standing right beside you now, her robe brushing lightly against your arm when she shifts her weight.
“Years.”
You try to keep your voice steady, not wanting to show how her closeness is affecting your focus.
“Always had a thing for work like this.”
Her smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
“I bet you’ve seen a lot of… interesting things. A lot of interesting people.”
You chuckle.
“Yeah, you’d be surprised. I get around a lot and every house, every family has their differences.”
Her eyes glitter curiously.
“Like what?”
You pause, then shake your head with a grin.
“Business secret.”
She laughs and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. Her foot taps lightly against the hardwood. Possibly a nervous habit, or maybe a way to draw your eyes down her legs. You catch a hint of her bare thigh beneath the robe and quickly look away. Her voice dips a little lower, more intimate than casual.
“It must be nice, though. Meeting new people all the time. Getting glimpses into their lives.”
You feel like she’s been saying the same thing for the third time now. Just worded slightly differently. As if she wants to talk, but her mind is thinking about something else.
“Sometimes. But not everyone is as… welcoming as you.”
That makes her blush. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away, though the smile stays on her lips.
“Well… it’s only polite. Most people here barely look at contractors, but… I guess I like talking to people.”
Her robe shifts as she crosses her arms, the silk parting just enough at the thigh to show a glimpse of smooth skin before falling back into place. You try not to stare, but it’s impossible not to notice.
She notices your glance though. You can tell by the way her lips twitch into a faint, knowing smirk before she hides it again.
“I hope I’m not distracting you.”
She can’t even hide her teasing voice.
You exhale a short laugh.
“You’re… fine.”
She tilts her head, studying you with a glint in her eyes.
“Hmm. You sound unsure.”
You stand again, brushing your hands against your jeans.
“Let’s just say this isn’t the most… typical workday I’ve had.”
Her smirk widens at that, but she pretends to look innocent.
“Oh? And what makes it different?”
You meet her gaze for a long second. The silence stretches between you and neither of you looks away. Finally, you break it with a shrug.
“You know.”
Her breath catches. She looks away, feigning nonchalance, but her fingers toy with the knot of her robe, tightening it and loosening it, as though her body doesn’t know what it wants to do. She steps back slightly, almost as if she’s remembering that she’s married, but her eyes keep drifting to you. Every time you glance up, you catch her staring, only for her to glance away again like a guilty teenager. Her cheeks are flushed and you feel warm as well. And though no one has said it out loud, you both know this isn’t just polite company anymore.
You stay busy with the last adjustments, measuring, tightening, testing connections. It’s all second nature, muscle memory at this point. But you’re not blind. YooA lingers nearby, too close to be casual. She leans against the doorframe with her eyes fixed not on the tools but on you. Her robe slips again when she crosses her arms, exposing the soft line of her collarbone. She doesn’t bother fixing it right away. Her lip catches between her teeth as her gaze drifts over your frame. You can’t read her mind, but if you could, you’d see flashes of what she’d been imagining earlier. Two men, her husband and a stranger, taking her at once. Their cocks in her mouth, in her body, filling her, using her. The fantasy was supposed to stay private, but the sight of you - broad shoulders, forearms flexing as you work, sweat glistening faintly on your skin - keeps pulling it back into focus.
Her thighs press together under the silk as heat builds again. She swallows, shifting her weight, trying to fight it back.
And then, too soon, the sound of tools closing snaps her out of it.
“Alright. That should do it.”
The words hit her harder than she expected. Finished. Done. Just like that.
YooA’s stomach twists and she forces a smile.
“Oh. Already?”
You nod.
“Didn’t take as long as I thought.”
She watches as you gather your things, her heart sinking a little. That’sit? After all that, you’re just going to… leave? She was so sure you felt it too, but maybe she was wrong.
“Let me walk you out.”
You follow her down the hall, toolbox in hand. Her feet pad lightly ahead of you, the red silk robe swaying with each step.
But then it suddenly slips.
The sash loosens and the robe tumbles silently from her shoulders. It pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but the black lace lingerie and stockings. Her back is slightly arched as she pauses mid step.
Her breath catches. Her skin burns hot with embarrassment the second it happens. She tells herself it was an accident. She doesn’t turn around right away though. She doesn’t pick up the robe. She waits.
“Please say something. Do something.”
She begs in her head, but you don’t.
You just step over the crumpled silk without a word, your boots brushing past the discarded fabric as you follow her. Her stomach twists tighter as her embarrassment spikes and disappointment bites deep into her skin. Did she just humiliate herself? Did she misread everything?
By the time she reaches the front door, her pulse is racing and her face is flushed. Her fingers curl around the doorknob with her mind spinning. She pulls it open, the quiet click of the latch echoing in the still house. She turns on her heel, ready to gesture you out politely.
But when YooA looks at you, your eyes aren’t on the door.
They’re on her.
Then, her gaze catches yours. After a moment, your eyes slowly travel downward. Over the line of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts pressed tight in the lace bra, the sheer straps of the garter belt hugging her waist. Lower still, tracing her flat stomach, the black panties barely concealing how damp the lace has become. Finally, your gaze settles on the stockings stretched over her thighs.
YooA’s skin prickles everywhere your eyes touch. Her chest tightens. Her entire being burns with a mix of lust and embarrassment. She has never been more aware of her body in her life. Not with her husband, not with anyone at all. She’s standing in her front hall, nearly naked, letting a man who isn’t her husband take her in like she’s a prize on display. She almost forgets to breathe, afraid that if she exhales too loudly, you’ll come to your senses and walk away. Instead, she unconsciously straightens, pushing her chest forward just slightly. The lace lifts, her cleavage deepens and she’s silently offering more. More of herself. More of what you want to see.
Your lips twitch into a faint grin.
“Guess there’s more I have to fix after all.”
Her breath hitches sharply. Excitement and dread twist together in her stomach as the realization blooms. This is real. This is happening. She is about to cheat on her husband.
Your toolbox thuds softly to the floor. One of your hands reaches out and your rough palm finds the smooth skin of her waist as your fingers curl firmly around her side. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move at all. Then your other hand lifts, brushing against her stocking covered thigh. The nylon stretches under your touch as your thumb strokes the tender skin just above her garter strap. YooA’s eyes snap up to yours. For a heartbeat, she just stares, caught between guilt and craving. But her body betrays her. The fantasy from earlier - two men, her mouth full, her body stretched - it floods back, fueling her hunger.
She can’t hold back anymore.
With a soft gasp, she rises onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips against yours. Her arms slip around your neck, locking tight as if she’s afraid you’ll pull away. You kiss her back, your grip on her body firm. She melts into you, her moan vibrating against your mouth as the taste of her lust floods your tongue. Your hands roam, up her thigh, around her waist, pressing her closer until there’s no space left between her lingerie clad body and your chest. Her breasts push against you, while her nipples are already hard through the lace. YooA clings even tighter, her body already surrendering to what her mind still tells her she shouldn’t do. But she’s past the point of stopping.
Her lips taste sweet and her breath is warm as the kiss deepens. YooA melts into you, moaning softly into your mouth while her hips begin to move. Slow at first, then more insistent. She starts grinding against you through your work pants. Your hands explore freely now. One traces the curve of her back, the other cups her ass, with your fingers brushing the lace strap that digs deliciously into her skin. She shudders under your touch, kissing harder. Her body is practically climbing into yours. You groan against her lips, pushing her gently into the wall, pinning her between the doorframe and your chest. Her breasts crush against you, with her nipples straining against the lace bra. She grinds harder, her moans low and needy. The heat of her body burns through her lingerie.
When she finally pulls away, her cheeks are clearly flushed. She pants for air, with her eyes blazing with a mix of lust and guilt.
“There… might be something to fix in the bedroom.”
Her voice trembles as she whispers.
You grin.
“Is that so?”
She nods, about to step away to lead you. But before she can, you sweep her off her feet, one arm under her thighs, the other around her back.
“Ah-!”
YooA yelps in surprise, but her arms instinctively wrap around your neck.
“W-wait-”
But her protests melt into laughter, then a needy sigh as she buries her face against your shoulder.
Carrying her bridal style, you stride through the house. YooA gives hurried directions, her voice breathless, until finally you reach the bedroom door. You push it open with your shoulder, stepping inside. You step closer to the bed and let her fall. YooA lands on her side with a soft bounce, her hair fanning across the pillow, her legs half folded beneath her. The red silk robe lies forgotten somewhere in the hall, leaving only the black lace lingerie clinging to her flushed skin.
Her feet point toward you with her toes curling in the sheer stockings. You grab one ankle, pulling her down the bed until her legs stretch out and her feet dangle off the edge. She looks up at you with wide eyes and her chest rising and falling fast. She moves her foot to brush against your crotch, playing and testing you. You grin, watching her as she teases, but then she stretches her leg too far.
“Ah-!”
Her toes press right into your groin.
A sharp sting shoots through you, making you double forward slightly with a hiss.
“Damn, woman…”
You groan, your voice tight but teasing.
YooA’s eyes go wide, her face flooding with color. She lets out a startled laugh, covering her mouth, then scrambles closer.
“I-I’m so sorry!”
Before you can answer, she slides off the bed. Her hands graze your thighs as she sinks to her knees in front of you.
The sight is enough to steal your breath and gone is the painful pull in your balls. Her hair tumbles around her flushed face, eyes cast downward. Her hands hesitate over your clothed crotch. For a moment, she seems to realize the position she’s in, kneeling there, and another wave of blush blooms across her cheeks.
You say nothing. You just watch, letting her decide.
Her hands rise, trembling slightly, pressing against the bulge in your pants. Her breath catches. She bites her lip, her fingers tracing the outline carefully.
“… bigger…”
She murmurs under her breath. You assume she’s trying to compare you to her husband.
YooA’s eyes flick up at you, then quickly away again, as if ashamed to admit it out loud. But her hands keep moving, testing your size through the fabric, and the heat in her face says everything. She fumbles with your belt, then the zipper. The sound of it sliding down cuts through the heavy silence. You place one hand on her head, your fingers brushing gently through her hair as she tugs your pants down.
Then the boxers follow.
Her jaw drops.
“Oh my gosh.”
She whispers, eyes widening as your cock falls free, heavy and only half hard. She stares openly, her lips parted.
“I can’t believe it. It’s… so big. Way bigger than my husband…”
The words spill out before she can stop them. Her gaze lingers on it, roaming every inch of your length, drinking in the sight. She doesn’t touch right away, she just stares, awe written across her face.
Finally, her trembling hand rises. She wraps her fingers carefully around the base. The girth forces her grip open, and she bites back a moan at the weight of you in her palm. She tries with her other hand too, placing it above the first. Both hands together barely cover three quarters of your shaft.
“Oh my god…”
You watch in amusement, your hand stroking her hair as she experiments, exploring you like she doesn’t trust her own senses.
Then she leans closer. Her tongue slips out. You expect a flick, a quick tease. But she surprises you. She releases one hand, presses her tongue against the thick base of your cock, and drags it upward in one slow lick. Her eyes flutter shut as she traces the entire length of your cock, from the base to the tip. Spit glistens across your shaft in the wake of her tongue, and when she finally pulls back, she whispers again:
“So big…”
Her hands linger around your shaft, stroking slowly but fascinated. She runs her thumb over the head, collecting the bead of precum that’s already formed, smearing it down your length with a shiver.
“It’s so heavy…”
She leans in again, pressing a soft kiss against the base, then another higher up. Each kiss lingers a moment longer, her lips warm and wet against your skin. Her eyes flick up, meeting yours as she plants another kiss just beneath the tip.
The sight alone makes your cock twitch in her hands.
Her cheeks flush darker, but she doesn’t stop. If anything, the reaction makes her more eager. She presses her tongue against the underside, dragging it up in a long, slow line before wrapping her lips around the tip and sucking lightly. She moans softly at the taste, as if surprised by her own arousal. Her hands continue stroking, twisting slowly around your shaft. Her mouth peppers kisses along the head. Her tongue darts out to tease every ridge and vein. When her lips part again, she whispers against your skin.
“I can’t believe a cock can taste this good…”
Her eyes stay locked on yours, wide and shining, as she licks along the length again. This time slower. Her spit trails behind her tongue. She kisses down one side, up the other, then sucks your tip into her mouth just long enough to make her cheeks hollow.
You exhale sharply, tightening your grip on her hair. YooA blushes deeper at the sound, her chest rising and falling quickly. She strokes you faster with one hand. The other plays with your balls. Her lips press against your shaft as if in worship.
“It’s so perfect… I could do this forever.”
YooA’s strokes slow, her hand tightening around the base of your cock as she lowers her head again. Her lips brush against your balls, before she parts them and lets her tongue slide across the sensitive skin. She closes her eyes as though savoring it, licking slowly, then sucking one gently into her mouth. The wet sounds are obscene in the quiet room. Each soft slurp pulls a groan from deep in your chest. Your cock twitches in her grip, and when her hand shifts to stroke you, the weight of it falls flat across her face. The thick shaft rests against her cheek, her nose brushing the underside as she keeps worshipping your balls with steady, hungry licks.
The sight nearly undoes you. Your hand settles firmly on the back of her head, fingers threading through her silky hair. You guide her gently as she loses herself in the act. She moans softly against you, the vibration shooting up your shaft, making you hiss through your teeth.
“Fuck…”
The sound makes her pause. Her eyes flicker open, lips still wet against your skin, before she slowly lifts her head. Her gaze travels back up your cock, admiring the sheer size, the veins pulsing under the skin. Her breath hitches. She hesitates, her lips parting, her tongue darting out just to taste the tip again. Then, with a deep breath, she guides you toward her mouth. The head pushes past her lips. She whimpers instantly, her jaw stretching around the girth. Her hand holds tightly to the base, steadying the weight while she sucks gently on the crown, her cheeks hollowing. It’s a struggle from the beginning. Her throat works, her lips strain, and her eyes squeeze shut as she forces herself to take more. Inch by inch, she pushes down, gagging softly before pulling back with a gasp.
“I… I’ll never fit all of you.”
She whispers, before wiping spit from her lip with the tip of your cock, although that seems to have the opposite effect.
Her mouth seals around you again, sliding lower, sucking harder this time. Her tongue presses against the underside, swirling as she works you with both mouth and hand. The sloppy wet sounds grow louder. Her spit drips down your shaft as she struggles to keep a rhythm.
And as she sucks, her body betrays her. Her thighs tremble where she kneels, her stockings brushing together as her pussy clenches desperately around nothing. She can feel her panties soaking through. The lace is ruined as heat builds between her legs. Her fantasy flashes back, your cock not in her mouth, but buried deep inside her, stretching her, reshaping her insides. The thought makes her moan around you, drool spilling past her lips, her whole body shuddering with need.
You watch her struggle, and it makes your chest tighten in the best way. YooA kneels at your feet, her lips stretched wide around your cock, cheeks hollowing as she works, spit dripping down her chin. Every time she gags, every time her eyes water, she pulls back only to try again, her hand stroking what her mouth can’t handle.
You groan, your fingers threading deeper into her hair, guiding her in steady rhythm.
“Good girl… fuck, you’re so perfect like this.”
Her eyes flick up at the words, and the sight steals your breath. Her gaze wide and glassy, filled with lust and need, while her mouth worships your cock.
“That’s it.”
You encourage her as her lips glide up and down your length.
“You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth… I could watch you all day.”
She moans around you, the vibration sending sparks through your body. The more you praise her, the more eager she becomes, stroking faster, sucking harder, her jaw working until her spit slicks you from base to tip.
But your hunger shifts. Watching her, feeling her mouth, only sharpens your need for more. For her body. For her pussy. You pull back gently, sliding her mouth off your cock. She gasps for air, spit shining down her chin. You run your thumb across her wet cheek, smiling down at her.
“Come here.”
You help her up, your hands firm around her arms, and turn her toward the bed. She doesn’t resist, her legs trembling with arousal. The moment she hits the mattress, she lands on her stomach, the soft curve of her ass lifted by the garter straps. Before she can roll over, you’re already kneeling behind her, your weight sinking into the mattress as your hands roam. You stroke her thighs, squeezing the flesh through her stockings. Your palms slide up over her hips, tracing the lace garter, then across her back, smoothing over the delicate curve of her waist. Finally, you cup her ass, kneading, spreading her cheeks to admire the view.
“God…You’re incredible. Sexy as hell. I could stare at this body forever.”
She buries her face in the sheets, hiding her blush, but the way she wiggles her hips into your touch betrays her. Your fingers find the thin strap of her panties and tug. Slowly, you peel the lace down over her ass, exposing more with every inch. The fabric clings, damp and ruined from her arousal.
YooA freezes for a moment, her breath catching. This is it. Until now, she’s kissed you. Sucked you off. Teased herself with the idea. But now…now another man is really about to claim her pussy. And her whole body aches for it.
You sit back on your heels, pulling her panties fully down and tossing them aside. The lace peels away from her slick folds, leaving her bare, exposed, glistening wet, spread open before you. You can’t help but take your time staring. Her pussy is perfect, pink and glistening, her lips swollen from arousal, a glimmer of wetness already dripping down to the curve of her thighs. The garter straps frame her ass, stockings hugging her legs, and between them is the prettiest cunt you’ve ever seen.
You stroke your cock once as you drink her in.
“Goddamn, you’re gorgeous.”
YooA’s face buries deeper into the sheets. Her body tenses. Her fists clutch the blanket as she feels you staring at her. She braces, her breath shaky, her chest rising and falling quickly.
What if my husband saw me like this?
The thought burns through her. Naked. On her stomach. Legs spread. Another man staring at her pussy like it belongs to him. The shame coils with heat in her chest, turning into something she can’t control. Her anticipation threatens to break her.
You spit into your palm, then drag two fingers down to her pussy. Without warning, you thrust them inside.
“Ah-!”
She gasps, her back arching, the sudden intrusion making her jolt.
You pump them hard, knuckles pressing against her folds, fucking her with rough, steady strokes. The wet sounds of her body echo in the room. Her hips push back into your hand, betraying how badly she needs it even as her mind screams at her to resist. After a few thrusts, you pull your fingers free, glistening with her slick. She whimpers at the loss, her empty walls clenching desperately around nothing. You shuffle closer, the mattress dipping with your weight. Your cock drags against her inner thigh, heavy and hot, until the tip finds her entrance. Her whole body stiffens and trembles, the heat of your length pressed right against her pussy lips.
Her husband would never do this. He was always careful, always soft, always making sure she was ready. You’re not. You’re only concerned with one thing…fucking her, using her body, claiming her with your cock. She knows she should hate it. The roughness. The lack of tenderness. The way you’re treating her like a hole to fuck. But she doesn’t. Her thighs tremble. Her panties are ruined on the floor. And her pussy clenches around nothing as the thought sinks in deeper. This stranger is about to push inside her.
Her voice trembles, muffled into the sheets.
“Oh my god…”
And still, she pushes her hips back against your cock.
You steady yourself with one hand on her ass, your cockhead pressed firmly against her slick entrance. For a moment, you just hold there, savoring the heat radiating off her folds. Then you push forward. Her body resists at first, her pussy stretching slowly around your girth.
“Ahh-”
YooA cries into the sheets, her back arching, her knuckles white as she clutches the blanket. Her walls squeeze tight, her body fighting to take you in.
“Fuck…”
You groan through clenched teeth, your cock sinking deeper, inch by inch. The tight heat wraps around you, milking you, pulling you further inside.
“So damn tight…”
YooA buries her face into the mattress, moaning into the fabric. The stretch is overwhelming. Her husband never filled her like this, never made her feel split open. Each inch burns, but it’s a delicious burn that shoots straight to her core. Her thighs tremble. No fantasy could’ve prepared her for this.
When your hips finally press flush against her ass, trembling under you, her pussy clamps so tight around your cock that you can feel her heartbeat in it. You grab her ass with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, spreading her cheeks wide to watch your shaft disappear into her.
“You feel so good.”
You pull back until only your tip remains. Then you drive forward again with a hard, deep stroke.
“Ah-ahh!”
She gasps, her head dropping fully onto the mattress, cheek pressed against the damp fabric. Every thrust forces another moan from her. Her body yields as you pound deeper. Your strokes aren’t fast, but they’re hard. Each one lands heavy and deep, bottoming out, forcing her to take your entire length. The bed creaks with the rhythm, the sheets beneath her darkening as her pussy gushes uncontrollably. YooA’s eyes squeeze shut, tears pricking the corners. She’s already near her limit, her body overwhelmed, her pussy fluttering around your cock, clenching tighter with every thrust.
The shame simmers hot in her chest. She can’t stop thinking of her husband, of how he would look at her if he saw her like this. A whore in lingerie, pinned down, taking another man’s cock so deep she’s soaking the sheets. But the shame doesn’t stop her. It only makes her wetter. Her moans spill into the mattress, muffled but desperate, her ass slapping back into your hips with every thrust. And you can’t get enough. Her tight body stretches around you, gripping you like she was made for it. Her juices coat your cock, dripping down her thighs, staining the sheets beneath her. You squeeze her ass harder, spreading her wide, watching the way your cock spears into her again and again. She’s breaking beneath you, shaking, sobbing, already starting to lose her mind.
And you’re not letting up. Your hips slam against her ass, each thrust sinking you deep into her soaked pussy. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room. YooA’s voice spills into the mattress, muffled cries that grow higher every time you bottom out.
“More-ahhh-please, more…”
Her ass rocks back into you with every stroke. Your hands clutch her cheeks, spreading them wide as you fuck her. The sight is obscene, your cock disappearing into her dripping pussy, her folds stretched around you, juices spilling down her thighs. Your thumb drags closer to the tight ring just above her pussy, circling lightly. The second she realizes where you’re touching, her moan catches in her throat.
“Oh-”
Before she can even beg, you press. Her cry shatters as your thumb pushes against her puckered ring, slow but insistent, stretching her tighter with every inch that sinks in.
“F-fuck!”
YooA sobs. Her voice breaks as her back arches. Her pussy clamps down on your cock like a vice, her body shaking under the double intrusion. You keep thrusting, hard and deep, each stroke driving her into the mattress while your thumb pushes deeper into her ass. The sensation overwhelms her. Her pussy stretched wide, her ass filled, her body taken from both ends at once.
Her fantasy surges back. Not her husband anymore. Not some gentle scenario. But strangers. Two men. Both inside her, using her, sharing her body like it belongs to them. The shame, the lust, the sheer filth of it tears her apart.
“Ahhh-ahhh! Oh my god, I-!”
Her scream rips out, raw and desperate, as her climax crashes through her. Her pussy spasms violently around your cock, milking you, flooding the sheets beneath her with her juices. Her thighs quake. Her body shakes as she loses herself completely. Her moans break into sobs of pleasure. The bed rocks under her as you keep her pinned, still thrusting deep, your thumb buried in her ass.
Her fantasy isn’t just in her head anymore. It’s real. And it makes her cum harder than she ever has in her life.
You don’t give her a moment to recover. As YooA’s trembling body is pulled through her own climax, you line yourself up again, cockhead dripping with her juices, thumb still buried in her ass, and slam back into her pussy. Her walls clench around you, milking you on the up thrust, then you drive down again. Deeper. Harder. Faster. The slap of flesh echoes off the walls as you fuck her pussy while your thumb pistons in her anus, combining two invasions into one relentless storm of sensation.
YooA’s entire body shakes. She goes rigid for a second, then melts forward, forehead pressed to the mattress, breath coming in shattered gasps. Every nerve ending in her core is alight. Her pussy spasms around you. Her ass squeezes your thumb. The combination sends her teetering on the edge again, higher than before.
Her voice breaks into half moans, half cries. Syllables tumble out in breathless fragments.
“Ah… oh… fuck… no, yes-”
You tighten your grip on her hips, driving deeper, tilting her pelvis up for an even more perfect angle. You feel her cock throbbing need: Her slick, her squeeze, her unconsciously begging every time you pause just long enough. The rhythm you set is a punishing, greedy orchestra of long, deep strokes that leave no room for recovery in between. Under your hands, YooA dissolves into a trembling, stuttering mess. It takes her a dozen wrenching pumps before she can slow her racing heart.
When she finally catches a moment’s breath, it’s only to sink back into the familiar fantasy that’s been haunting her all day. This time, her husband is gone…just two strangers, two cocks, her body caught in a perfect crossfire of pleasure. She imagines them both. One cock still buried in her dripping cunt, the other easing in and out of her puckered ass, fucking her hole with equal abandon. Her mind drifts even further. She sees herself dressed up again, lacy lingerie hugging her curves, stockings and heels, waiting by the door for both of them to arrive. Her mouth waters at the thought of answering that knock. Two men waiting to use her. Two men taking her, owning her, filling every inch of her. The fantasy spirals her right back toward the cliff’s edge…and you push her over it again.
With one final, brutal pump, cock buried to the hilt, thumb thrusting past the rim of her ass, you feel her body seize. YooA arches into you, a strangled scream ripping from her throat as another, more violent orgasm explodes through her. Her pussy clamps and squeezes. Her ass spasms around your thumb and both orifices milk your invasion in tandem. Her juices gush. Her body trembles. And for a moment the world narrows to nothing but the sound of her own primal cries and the relentless pounding of your hips.
Then everything goes still. You hold her, buried deep, your thumb still in her ass, one hand on each hip, while YooA’s body shudders in the aftermath of those overlapping climaxes. Her breath hitches with every exhalation, and when she finally finds the strength to lift her head, her eyes are glazed with pleasure and lust.
You rock forward slowly now, your cock sliding against her slick walls as you lean down to kiss YooA’s trembling lips. The rhythm shifts into something gentler now as you let her small gasps of breath fill the space between your mouths. Her back arches, pressing into you instinctively as you withdraw your thumb from her ass. She moans into your kiss, body shuddering. You smile against her lips, then push two fingers in its place, spreading her open, stretching her even more.
The electric shock of pleasure flares through her core. YooA clamps her eyes shut and bites your bottom lip. Her tongue darts out to taste you as she whimpers. She can’t catch her breath. Every nerve ending in her body sings with need.
You pull back just enough to watch her face, her cheeks flushed, mouth parted in a needy gasp, your fingers pumping slowly in her ass while your cock remains buried deep in her pussy. Her lips find yours again, and the kiss is messy and wet and hungry, driven by the storm of sensation coursing through her. Her nails dig into the sheets as she catches her breath, then falters. When she speaks, her voice is ragged, almost desperate against your mouth.
“Please…put your cock in my ass…”
Her plea hangs between you in the heavy air. Her body trembles beneath you, both pussy and asshole slick and waiting.
You slide out of her pussy with aching slowness, your cock glistening with her juices, the head throbbing against her trembling body. For a second, you pause, catching her gaze.
“You really want this?”
YooA can only moan.
“Yes… please.”
Her voice trembles with need.
You shift, finding your place above her, your bodies lined up perfectly. Gently, you slip your arm under her chin, lifting her head from the blanket so her cheek is pressed into the cradle of your bicep. The warmth of your skin frames her face, your presence wrapping around her as your breath brushes her ear. You dig your feet into the mattress for more leverage. With your free hand, you line your slick cock up with the tight, twitching ring of her ass. The tip presses against her hole.
Slowly, you begin to push forward. YooA gasps, her body tensing at the stretch, eyes rolling back as the pressure mounts and you begin to sink into her as slowly as you can go. She moans, the sound muffled against your arm but needy and desperate. Her ass grips you, clinging tight, forcing you to go slowly as you bury yourself deeper with every breath. Her face flushes with heat. Her mouth falls open in a helpless cry as she feels you claim her in a way no one ever has.
You press deeper, holding her close, your arm cradling her head, your cock filling her inch by inch. Until there’s nowhere left to go. She’s stretched and filled, trembling around your cock.
Your weight pins her against the mattress as you give your first few shallow thrusts, easing her open, letting her adjust to the stretch and the fullness. The tight grip of her ass makes every movement harder but more pleasurable.
YooA shivers, her breath stuttering against your skin, moans muffled as she tries to handle the pressure and pleasure. Her ass clenches around you, drawing you in, and you feel her thighs tremble against the bed.
You don’t wait long. The shallow thrusts become deeper and bolder. Inch by inch, you push further, stretching her tight until finally your hips meet her ass and you bottom out inside her. She lets out a broken, desperate whine. Her head is trapped in your arm. Her body shudders as you fill her all the way. She can barely breathe. This feeling overwhelms her as her cunt grows even wetter, her pleasure peaking again.
You lean closer, your lips brushing her ear.
“Look at you…taking all of it, letting me use your ass like it’s mine. God, you’re so fucking tight… so perfect.”
She blushes fiercely. A hot flush spreads across her cheeks and down her neck. Your words seem to melt her resolve. Her body gives in completely, her pussy clenching around nothing, dripping wet and aching to be filled again.
You start to move again, dragging yourself out and then slamming back in. With every thrust, you whisper more into her ear…
“You like being used like this, don’t you?”
“You want me to ruin you.”
“Your husband could never fuck you like this.”
Each word makes her shiver and moan louder. Her embarrassment twists with raw arousal as her body already strains for more. Your hips slam into her again and again, each thrust driving your cock deeper into her tight asshole. YooA’s body convulses with every impact. Her pussy presses against the sheets, dripping and smearing her arousal across the fabric.
Her head is still trapped in your arm, her cheek pressed to your muscle, and she makes no attempt to speak. Only broken moans and needy cries tremble through her throat. A thin line of drool escapes the corner of her mouth and trickles down your forearm.
You lean closer.
“Such a tight little butt slut. Taking me so well… God, you’re made for this.”
Her hips buck involuntarily, clenching down around you so hard you think she might try to swallow you whole. You thrust deeper, bottoming out in her ass, then pull back only to slam in again. The wet slap of your flesh against hers fills the room.
“You want me to come over again?”
You whisper, each word timed with a deep thrust that sends shockwaves through her core.
Her answer is a strangled moan and a soft whisper.
“Yes…”
You smile against her skin, hand tightening on her hip.
“Good. I’ll bring a colleague next time.”
Her body stutters at the thought. Her fantasy ignites brighter than ever. Two men, her cunt and her ass both claimed, filling her completely. Before she even knows what she’s doing, her mouth parts against your arm and she manages a broken cry.
“P-please-do it…”
You thrust harder, her ass clenching around you like crazy, sending her over the edge in another violent orgasm. Her body shakes, twitching around you as pleasure rips through her.
Her walls contract again and again, clamping your cock tight…and you lose it.
A deep groan rips from your throat as you bottom out one final time, spurting hot cum deep into her ass. You fill her completely, pumping thick ropes of seed into her. Your hand grips her hip harder to steady yourself through the waves of your own climax. You collapse forward, chest pressing into her back, holding her there as your breathing finally slows and the two of you sink into a sweaty, trembling silence.
(POV-Switch Husband)
Two days later, you sit in a glass walled conference room half a world away, trying to stay focused on a presentation that has already gone ten minutes too long. Slides blur together. Numbers. Forecasts. Someone keeps tapping a pen. Your phone lies face-down beside your notebook, set to vibrate.
It buzzes. You glance down automatically, expecting another email. Instead, the security app notification lights up your screen.
Front door camera: motion detected.
You swipe it open under the table. The live thumbnail shows your front porch. A man stands there in work clothes, toolbox at his feet, one hand hovering near the doorbell.
Recognition clicks instantly. The contractor. The one who came two days ago. You frown slightly. The job was supposed to be finished in a single visit. That was the whole point. Quick maintenance, in and out. You tilt the phone just enough to get a clearer look. Same uniform. Same logo on the sleeve.
Why is he back?
Maybe he forgot a part. Maybe something needed a second pass. You almost open the live feed fully, but someone at the head of the table says your name.
You look up. All eyes are on you. You lock your screen without thinking and slide the phone face down again, work face back on. You nod once and jump back into the conversation, answering on autopilot while a small corner of your mind stays stuck on the image of the contractor standing at your door.
It’s probably nothing. Just unfinished work. Still… the thought lingers longer than it should as the meeting drags on.
The meeting finally dissolves in a scrape of chairs and polite conversation. Someone claps you on the shoulder on the way out, already talking about deadlines, but your attention is elsewhere. You murmur something automatic back and step into the hallway, the door closing behind you.
Your phone is in your hand before you realize you’ve taken it out. You open the security app. For a split second, the frozen frame from earlier fills the screen. The contractor on your porch. Then it refreshes into the live feed. Empty steps. Closed door. Quiet street.
They’re gone.
But something catches in your memory. You rewind the thumbnail in your head. The angle. The shape behind him. There were two of them. You zoom in on the last captured snapshot. It’s subtle, just the edge of another sleeve, another arm partially hidden behind the first man. You stare at it longer, confusion creeping in.
Why bring a second guy for a job that should’ve been done already?
You exit the building into the late afternoon air, noise and traffic swelling around you. The elevator ride down to the underground parking garage feels longer than it is. Your footsteps echo in the concrete space as you walk to your car.
You check the time. Thirty minutes until the next meeting.
You sit in the driver’s seat and lean back, unlock your phone again, and open the archive tab of the security app. Your thumb hovers for a second before selecting footage from two days ago. If they’re back now… something must’ve happened then.
The loading circle spins. You watch the screen, waiting.
You fast forward through the footage at double speed, thumb flicking restlessly on the scrub bar. The video starts with the usual. The contractor arrives. YooA opens the door in her red robe. Polite small talk on the porch. The camera in the living room catches their figures moving through the hall. Everything looks normal. For a moment, you wonder if maybe you’re just being paranoid. You skip ahead, watching for a moment as he works, while YooA brings him a glass of water.
You switch to different cameras when you don’t see either of them anymore. You skip a few more minutes forward, but despite the possibility, you eventually check the bedroom.
The contractor is in the frame, and so is YooA. Only now she’s not wearing the robe. She’s on her knees, hair falling around her face, the black lingerie you bought her on full display. The contractor stands in front of her, his hands on her head, his hips moving in a certain rhythm.
For a moment you go numb, unable to comprehend what you’re seeing. You rewind, play again, slower.
YooA’s mouth is wrapped around the contractor’s cock, her hands clinging to his thighs, her body shifting as he guides her movements. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes half closed in pleasure
You freeze the video. Your heart pounds loud enough to drown out everything else in the car. This isn’t possible. This can’t be right. But the frame doesn’t lie. YooA. Your wife. In your bedroom. You let the video play again, stomach hurting.
She’s not just letting it happen. She’s wanting it.
Your finger hovers over the pause button, but you don’t press it. You should turn it off, delete the feed, look away, do anything else, but you can’t. You’re frozen, staring at your wife in a way you’ve never seen her before.
YooA is now lying on the mattress, hair tangled and face flushed, her moans clear even through the app’s tinny speaker. The contractor is behind her, fucking her hard, his hands gripping her hips as if he owns her. She’s not resisting. She’s pushing back. Meeting his thrusts, gasping for more, her voice echoing through the room.
You watch in silence, a sick swirl of emotions rising in your chest. Anger, shock, something darker and far more confusing. You hate it. You hate seeing her like this, her body offered up to another man, her pleasure on display for anyone to see.
And yet…You can’t help yourself. The sight is so raw, so real, so forbidden…it twists something inside you. The way she moves, the sounds she makes, the look on her face when she climaxes for him… it’s nothing you’ve seen from her before.
Your knuckles turn white around your phone. You should feel only anger. Only betrayal. But you just keep watching, unable to look away. You tell yourself it’s evidence. That you need to understand what happened. That this is about truth, not… whatever this feeling is in your chest. But the longer the video runs, the less convincing that lie becomes. Your eyes stay locked on the screen as YooA moves under him, her body reacting in ways you’ve never seen before. It’s not just the sex, it’s the passion. The way she gives in to it. The way she looks like she forgot the rest of the world exists.
And a thought hits you so suddenly it feels like a punch.
“If he’s back right now…”
Your gaze snaps to the time stamp. He’s at your house again. Your stomach twists. If he’s there, then she’s there. And if he brought someone with him…The image forms in your head before you can stop it: YooA in that same bed, but this time with two men. Hands on her. Voices in her ear. Her body pulled in different directions.
You hate the heat that flashes through you at the thought. You hate how your breath shortens. You hate how part of you wants to see it.
“Jesus…”
You whisper under your breath, dragging a hand down your face. This is wrong. Every part of it is wrong. Your wife cheating should make you furious, should make you want to throw the phone across the garage and drive straight home.
Instead, you’re sitting here, heart racing, imagining her with two men at once. The contradiction makes you feel sick. And curious.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, your thumb is already moving. You pull up her contact and hit call. The ringtone hums in your ear.
Once.
Twice.
You stare at the screen, waiting.
If she answers, what will she sound like? Breathless? Distracted? Guilty?
If she doesn’t…
Your pulse pounds louder with every ring as you wait to see which version of your wife picks up the phone…or if she picks up at all.
The phone rings and rings, each passing second stretching the knot in your gut tighter. You almost hang up, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Your heart thuds in your chest, excitement and dread swirling together. Every part of you is tense. The phone rings again.
Then finally, with a click, YooA answers.
“H-hello?”
Her voice is soft, just a little too high, like she’s short of breath. You recognize it instantly. There’s a tremor beneath her words, a faint shakiness she never has unless she’s… busy. You listen hard. In the background, you think you hear something. A muffled moan, a thump, a whisper of movement she tries to stifle.
You force yourself to keep your tone casual.
“Hey, love. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
There’s a pause.
“No! No, I… I was just, um, cleaning up. What’s up?”
Her words are a little too quick.
You imagine her, hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, maybe biting her lip to keep quiet as someone pulls her onto his cock.
You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Just checking in. Everything alright at the house? The contractor came by again, right? Was he able to finish the work?”
There’s a muffled gasp, so faint you almost think you imagined it, and then YooA’s voice again, strained and distracted.
“Oh. Um. Yes, he’s here. There was… more to do than we thought.”
You lean back in the car seat, heart pounding as you play along.
“That’s good. I’m glad you’ve got help. Everything else okay?”
Another pause. You hear a sharp inhale, a hitch in her breath.
“Y-yeah, everything’s… fine.”
You hear it all. The little quivers in her voice. The faint background sounds she can’t quite hide. The way she’s struggling to sound normal, to keep up the lie, even as something is happening right there with her.
You close your eyes for a moment, feeling everything at once: betrayal, jealousy, humiliation, and, worse than all of them, the dark, forbidden excitement curling hot and heavy in your chest.
You keep your voice steady, making small talk like nothing is wrong.
“So, I should be home by Friday evening, maybe late, depending on traffic. If you want, we can order something for dinner. I’ll be tired, but I’d love to just relax with you for a bit.”
You pause, listening. There’s a faint, muffled sound, someone exhaling, a low, masculine murmur in the background, almost like a man trying and failing to stay quiet. You can picture it: YooA squirming, someone moving behind her, unable to keep still.
She tries to cover it with a cough, her voice tense.
“That… sounds nice. I’ll, um, look forward to it.”
Her words hitch near the end, and you hear her draw in a shaky, almost desperate breath. It’s not hard to imagine why.
You keep going, talking about normal things, work, the weather, even a joke about how the neighbor’s dog kept you awake at the hotel last night. All the while, you can hear the barely suppressed moans, the little breaks in her speech, the faint creak of a mattress.
At one point, she nearly moans straight into the phone, stifling it with a hand. You know that sound. You’ve heard it in your own bed. You wonder who else hears it now.
Still, you play dumb.
After a pause, you finish with a gentle:
“Love you, babe.”
There’s a long silence on her end. You hear her breathing, like she’s struggling for control.
Then, finally, her voice forced through clenched teeth. “L-love you too… I… I’ll see you soon.”
A small gasp, like she couldn’t help it.
The line clicks off.
You sit there for a second, heart pounding. Your finger hovers over the app, dying to pull up the cameras, to see what’s happening right now, who she’s with, what she’s letting them do.
But your phone vibrates. Calendar reminder. The next meeting is about to start.
You exhale, disappointment heavy in your chest. You tuck your phone away, straighten your jacket, and head for the elevator.
The next meeting drags on, but you barely hear any of it. Presentations flicker on the screen. You nod at the right moments, take notes, answer a question you barely understand. But underneath it all, your thoughts are a storm. Jealousy, anger, disbelief, and something far more twisted: excitement.
You can’t forget the sounds from that call. The way her voice shook. The hint of another man’s presence in the room, probably even more than one. The way she could barely force the words “I love you” past her lips, like the confession was being fucked right out of her.
You should be furious. Betrayed. Ready to explode.
Instead, your pulse races every time the scene flashes in your mind. Your leg bounces beneath the table. Your hands clench, then relax. Shame lingers like a shadow, you know it’s wrong to feel this way, to want to see more. But that only makes it sharper, more urgent.
You try to listen as someone details quarterly projections, but all you can think about is the unread notification on your phone. The video feeds you haven’t watched yet. Every minute that passes, your anticipation grows.
What’s happening at home right now? What will I see? How far will she go?
You count the minutes until you can leave. You’re already planning it: straight to the hotel, straight to the app, straight to the footage.
It’s wrong. You know it’s wrong.
But you can’t wait.
Back in your hotel room, the door clicks shut behind you. You barely remember the elevator ride up or the walk down the hall. Your bag thuds to the floor. You sit on the edge of the bed, phone already in your hand, your pulse hammering in your ears. Your fingers tremble as you open the security app. It takes a moment for the footage to load, enough time for your excitement and shame to coil tighter together in your chest.
Finally, the screen flickers to life. You rewind to the moment the doorbell rang that afternoon.
There she is, YooA, standing in the foyer. She’s wearing a new set of lingerie. Deep red, golden highlights, almost elegant. Your breath catches. You’ve never seen this on her before. It hugs every curve, the stockings clipped to a garter belt, her hair perfectly styled. You can’t believe she dressed herself like that for someone else.
You don’t get to dwell on it. The first contractor, the same man as before, steps into the house. He barely glances at her outfit before pulling her close and kissing her, right there by the door.
You tense. For a heartbeat you want to look away, but you can’t.
YooA melts into him, arms winding around his neck. The kiss is rough, nothing like what you’re used to seeing from her. For a second, you think the other man might leave, but he just stands there, watching, his eyes fixed on your wife as she’s kissed by another. When they finally break apart, YooA hesitates, one hand lingering on the first man’s chest. Her eyes flick uncertainly to the second contractor. And then, after the briefest pause, YooA steps forward. She lifts her chin and kisses the second man. You see her lips part, see his hands slide to her waist.
The first contractor, the one you recognize from two days ago, slides his rough hand down YooA’s back, following the elegant red and gold curve of her new lingerie until his palm cups her ass. Without warning he draws back and delivers a sharp, stinging slap. The sound cracks through the tiny phone speaker like a whip. YooA gasps into the second man’s mouth. Her body jerks forward on instinct, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she arches deeper into the kiss. Her fingers curl tighter into the front of his work shirt. The garter straps pull taut across the backs of her thighs as she rises onto her toes.
Your breath sticks in your throat. You feel the heat bloom low in your gut before you can name it. Your free hand twitches, drifts downward almost on autopilot, fingertips brushing the growing ridge behind your slacks. You rub once, feeling the shameful pulse of your own cock. The instant you register what you’re doing, revulsion slams into you like cold water. You yank your hand away as though the fabric burned you. Your face flames. This is your wife. Your wife. Being groped, kissed, spanked by two strangers in the entryway of the house you pay the mortgage on. And you…you were touching yourself to it.
The first man bends at the knees and hooks one arm under YooA’s thighs. In a single motion he hoists her up and tosses her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. Her startled yelp dissolves into laughter the moment her stomach lands across his broad back. The same laugh she used to give you when you surprised her with flowers. Except now her ass is high in the air, framed by the red lace and golden straps, and the man holding her is not you.
She squirms playfully. Her half hearted protest melts into giggles as he turns toward the hallway. One of her hands braces against his chest for balance. The other reaches back to tug uselessly at the hem of her lingerie as though she could cover herself. The motion only makes the fabric ride higher. The second contractor falls into step behind them, hands in his pockets like he’s taking a casual stroll through someone else’s house. His eyes stay locked on YooA’s upturned backside the entire time. Right before the three of them disappear around the corner, out of the foyer camera’s field of view, the first man raises his free hand again.
Another loud, ringing spank.
YooA squeals, legs kicking once in the air. The impact leaves a fleeting pink handprint blooming across the pale curve of her cheek. She laughs again - and then they’re gone, footsteps and her fading giggles echoing down the hall toward the bedroom.
The feed switches automatically to motion detection in the master bedroom camera. The frame is empty for three long seconds. Then the doorway fills with the three of them.
The first contractor strides in carrying YooA like a prize. He doesn’t set her down gently. He swings her off his shoulder and drops her onto the mattress with enough force that her body bounces once. Her hair fans across the duvet you both picked out together two years ago. She lands on her back, legs splayed for a heartbeat before she instinctively draws her knees up. The motion pulls the lace taut between her thighs. Her chest rises and falls fast in excitement. Both men stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at her. She bites her lip, eyes darting between them, color high on her cheeks.
You realize your hand has crept back down without permission. Your fingers are pressed flat against the zipper of your slacks again, not moving, just resting there, feeling the insistent throb beneath. You don’t rub this time. You just let the pressure sit, hating how good it feels, hating that part of you wants to keep watching.
The first contractor, the one who carried her in, stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking down at YooA like she’s already his. He tilts his head, studying the deep red lingerie clinging to her skin. The gold accents catch the bedside lamp like expensive jewelry.
“Fuck, baby. You look way better in red than you did in black. That black set was cute, but this… this makes you look like you were born to get ruined.”
YooA’s lips part. A shy, pleased smile flickers across her face even as fresh heat climbs her cheeks. She murmurs a soft, almost automatic
“Thank you…”
…and then she moves.
She rises smoothly onto her knees right there on the mattress, the duvet bunching beneath her. She keeps her eyes up, first on one man, then the other. The two contractors don’t make her wait long. They kick off their work boots in near unison. Belts clink. Zippers rasp down. Pants and boxers hit the floor in careless heaps. Then they climb onto the bed, the mattress dipping heavily under their combined weight. They stand tall over her on the king-size bed you both sleep in every night, cocks already thickening, heavy and half-hard in the warm bedroom air.
You stare at the screen, pulse slamming in your ears.
You can’t believe how easily she does it, how shamelessly.
YooA reaches out with both hands at once. Delicate fingers wrap around both their cocks. She strokes them slowly, feeling their weight and shape. Her thumbs brush over the heads, smearing the first beads of precum that appear almost instantly. She looks small between them, kneeling, lingerie still perfectly in place while they tower above her naked and ready.
“Goddamn…”
The first one groans, reaching down to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Look at you. So fucking eager.”
The second man threads his fingers gently into the hair at the nape of her neck.
“Sexy as hell on your knees like that, sweetheart. You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?”
YooA doesn’t answer with words. She leans forward and takes the first man’s cock between her lips. Her mouth stretches around him immediately, cheeks hollowing as she slides down as far as she can on the first pass. A soft, wet sound fills the tinny audio feed. She moans around the thickness, the vibration making him hiss through his teeth. Her free hand keeps stroking the second man in slow, steady pulls, keeping him hard while she works. After a few long, sloppy bobs she pulls off. Without hesitation she turns her head and takes the second man into her mouth, repeating the motion, deeper this time, throat working visibly as she tries to swallow more of him.
They praise her constantly.
“That’s it, baby. Look up at me while you suck him.”
“Fuck, your mouth feels perfect. Keep going just like that.”
“You’re so pretty when you’re messy, you know that?”
And she is getting messy.
Saliva shines on her chin and drips in slow strands onto the red lace cups of her bra. Her lipstick smears faintly along both shafts. Every time she switches, she leaves them slicker and shinier, coated in her spit. She alternates faster now, sucking one deep while jerking the other with a twisting motion, then pulling off to lavish the head with messy, open mouthed kisses before switching again. Wet smacks and soft gags punctuate the air. Tiny whimpers escape her whenever a cock pops free of her lips.
At one point she tries to take both heads at once, cheeks bulging, lips stretched impossibly wide around the tips. Impossible. She only manages a few seconds before she has to pull back, gasping, drool running in thick rivulets down her chin and onto her chest. The red fabric darkens where it soaks through.
The men groan in unison.
“Jeez…”
The first one mutters, thumb brushing the mess on her cheek almost tenderly.
“You’re a natural little slut, aren’t you?”
YooA’s eyes flutter half closed at the words. She nods, just a tiny, helpless jerk of her head, before diving back onto the nearest cock, sucking harder, messier, like she’s trying to prove it.
You sit frozen in the hotel room, phone trembling in your grip. Your slacks are painfully tight now. You can feel every heartbeat throbbing against the zipper. Your hand hovers an inch above your lap again, before you force it back to the edge of the mattress. You hate how much you want to touch yourself. You hate how badly you want to keep watching. But you don’t look away. Not even for a second.
The first guy threads his fingers deep into YooA’s hair, gathering it into a loose fist at the back of her head. He doesn’t ask. He simply tightens his grip and pulls her forward until her lips stretch wide around his cock again.
Then he starts to move slowly, with slides that let her adjust, then faster. Deeper. His hips roll forward with controlled force, feeding more and more of his cock past her lips until the head bumps the back of her throat. YooA’s eyes water instantly. Her hand flies to his thighs for balance, nails digging in, but she doesn’t pull away. She can’t. All she can do is take it, cheeks hollowing and bulging in rhythm, throat working around the intrusion with wet, choked little sounds that crackle through the phone speaker.
Her other hand, the one wrapped around the second man’s shaft, slows to a near standstill. Her fingers loosen, strokes turning lazy and distracted as her focus narrows to the cock fucking her face. Spit runs in steady strings down her chin, dripping onto her bra.
The second man notices. He lets out a low chuckle, then reaches down with both hands. Rough palms cup her breasts through the bra, kneading the soft mounds until the fabric strains. YooA moans around the shaft in her mouth, the vibration making the first man groan and thrust harder.
“These are too pretty to stay hidden.”
The second man mutters.
He hooks his fingers under the edge of the red cups and yanks downward. The bra slides below her breasts, freeing them completely. Her nipples are already tight, dark peaks begging for attention. He doesn’t hesitate and pinches both between thumb and forefinger, rolling them slowly. A sharp tug. A twist.
YooA’s whole body jerks. A muffled cry vibrates around the cock stuffing her mouth. Her back arches instinctively, pushing her chest forward into his hands even as tears spill down her cheeks from the relentless face fucking. Her thighs tremble beneath her. The garter straps pull taut as her hips twitch helplessly. Every pinch, every rough tug sends visible shivers racing through her. Her stomach clenches. Her toes curl into the sheets.
You watch it all from the hotel bed, phone screen filling your vision. A sick question coils in your gut and refuses to leave:
Does she feel different for them?
The way her body responds, the helpless arch of her spine, the way her hips rock forward even while her mouth is being used so roughly… It feels more raw and more immediate than anything she ever gave you. With you she was always careful, always soft edged, always checking in. Here she’s letting loose without hesitation, dripping, trembling, moaning into another man’s cock like it’s the only thing that matters.
The first contractor finally releases her hair with a satisfied grunt. He pulls out, letting her gasp and cough. Before she can catch her breath, the second man is already moving. He grabs her by the jaw and guides her mouth straight onto his cock. He pushes forward in one long, steady thrust until her nose presses against his pelvis and her throat convulses around him.
YooA gags hard. The sound is wet and desperate. Her hand scrabbles at his thigh, but he doesn’t let up. He starts fucking her face in earnest - short, sharp pumps that make her eyes roll back and fresh tears stream down her cheeks. Drool spills freely now, soaking the front of her ruined bra and dripping onto the sheets beneath her knees.
The first man steps to the side, watching for a moment with a lazy grin. Then he reaches down and delivers a series of sharp, ringing slaps to her upturned ass. Each one lands harder than the last, the pale skin blooming bright pink under his palm. YooA jolts forward with every impact, forcing the cock in her mouth even deeper. Her muffled whimpers turn into broken, needy sobs around the thick shaft. Her body rocks between them - one man using her throat, the other marking her ass - completely caught in pleasure.
The slaps stop only when her cheeks glow red and hot. The first man smooths a palm over the stinging flesh almost tenderly, then slides his fingers lower, tracing the soaked edge of her panties where they cling to her folds.
You can’t tear your eyes away. Your own hand is back on your lap now, pressing, not stroking, just holding the aching length through your pants. Shame burns in your chest, but it’s drowned out by something hotter and darker. You hate that you’re hard. You hate that you can’t look away. And most of all, you hate how badly you want to see what happens next - how far they’ll take her, how much more she’ll give them, and whether any part of her will still remember your name when they’re finished.
The second contractor keeps his grip firm on YooA’s jaw, feeding her his cock with steady, punishing thrusts. Her throat bulges visibly each time he bottoms out, Wet gags and choked whimpers spill from her stretched lips in messy rhythm. Tears track down her flushed cheeks, mascara smudged into dark streaks, but her eyes - half-lidded and glassy - stay locked upward, pleading for more.
The first man’s hand slides between her spread thighs, before two fingers hook the fabric aside and plunge straight inside her.
YooA’s entire body seizes. Her back arches, a strangled moan vibrating around the cock fucking her face. Her eyes cross, pupils drifting inward as the sudden, deep stretch of her pussy collides with the relentless invasion of her throat. The dual sensation shorts her out: mouth stuffed full, pussy stuffed full, no room left for thought or shame. Her hips jerk forward onto his fingers instinctively, chasing the pressure even as fresh drool spills from the corners of her mouth.
You watch her face twist in that perfect, ruined bliss - cross-eyed, lost, utterly wrecked - and something inside you finally snaps.
This is wrong. You know it’s wrong. But she’s already gone so far. They’re already using her like this. One more line crossed won’t change anything. It’s just this once. Just tonight. Just while you’re stuck half a world away watching your wife become someone else’s perfect little slut.
Your hand moves before the guilt can catch up. Fingers fumble with your belt, yank the zipper down. You shove your slacks and boxers low enough to free your aching cock. It springs up, already leaking, painfully hard from minutes of denial. You wrap your hand around the base and give one slow, experimental stroke.
The relief is immediate and filthy.
On screen, the man in her mouth finally pulls free. YooA gasps desperately for air, coughing, strings of spit dangling from her lips. He sits back on the bed, legs spread, cock standing rigid and slick with her saliva.
He pats his thigh once.
“Be a good girl. Come ride my dick.”
YooA nods frantically. The other man moves to help. His hands slide up her hips, thumbs hooking under the thin red straps of her panties. He peels them down, letting the soaked fabric drag along her thighs until they pool around her knees. YooA lifts one leg, then the other, letting him tug them free completely and toss them aside. Now she’s bare from the waist down except for the garter belt and stockings, framed by the red lace and gold clips, pussy glistening and ready.
She crawls forward on her knees, straddling the waiting man’s lap. He steadies her with both hands on her waist as she positions herself above him. The head of his cock brushes her entrance. She shivers hard, a tiny whimper escaping her throat.
Then she sinks. Slowly. Inch by inch. Her lips part in a silent gasp as she takes him. Her walls stretch visibly around his girth. You can see the way her pussy lips grip him, clinging, fluttering as she forces herself lower. Halfway down she pauses, trembling, breathing in shallow pants, then she pushes the rest of the way until her ass meets his thighs with a soft slap.
She’s fully seated.
Her head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open in a long, broken moan. Her hands brace on his shoulders for balance as her hips give a tiny, experimental roll.
The man beneath her groans, fingers digging into her hips.
“That’s it… fuck, you feel perfect.”
Behind her, the other contractor watches with dark, hungry eyes, stroking himself lazily while he waits his turn.
You match your strokes to the slow grind of YooA’s hips, matching the way she rises and falls on another man’s cock in the bed you share.
Just this once, you tell yourself again. Just tonight.
Your grip tightens. You don’t look away.
She rides the man beneath her with dreamy, rolling grinds, up until only the head remains inside her, then sinking back down with a soft moan each time her ass meets his thighs. Her breasts bounce free above the crumpled red bra. The garter straps frame her waist like they were made for this exact view. Her head is tilted back, eyes half-closed, lips parted in continuous little gasps. She’s completely lost in it, lost in the stretch, the fullness, the filthy pleasure of being filled by a stranger in the bed you both sleep in.
The man she’s riding keeps one hand on her hip, guiding her rhythm. His other hand reaches to the side, toward the bedside drawer you both use for chargers, condoms, her sleep mask. He slides it open without looking away from her face, fishes around for a second, then pulls out a small, clear bottle.
You recognize it instantly. The travel-size bottle of lube you bought months ago. It’s never been used much.
He doesn’t say a word. Just passes it to the second man, who’s still kneeling behind YooA, stroking himself lazily while he watches her ride.
YooA doesn’t notice any of it. Her eyes are closed now, head lolling, lost too deep in her own pleasure to register the small exchange happening inches from her.
The man behind her pops the cap. A thick, glistening stream pours over his cock, generous amounts that drip down the shaft and coat his fingers. He slicks himself from base to tip, eyes fixed on the tight pink ring between her cheeks.
Then her phone starts ringing on the nightstand. The sharp trill cuts through the room.
YooA freezes mid-bounce.
Her eyes snap open. She leans sideways, still impaled as she reaches toward the drawer. The screen lights up her flushed face.
Your name glows there. She whispers it out loud, barely audible through the feed.
“That’s my husband…”
Her hand stretches toward the phone. She’s halfway to answering, fingers brushing the edge of the case, when the man behind her moves.
He grips her waist with both hands, firm enough to hold her still. Then he presses forward.
The slick head of his cock nudges right against her asshole.
YooA lets out a startled, high-pitched yelp.
Her body jolts forward instinctively, the sudden, unfamiliar pressure makes her clench everywhere at once. The phone slips from her fingers, tumbling onto the mattress face-up. The call keeps ringing, your name flashing over and over, while she gasps, wide-eyed, caught between the thick cock still buried in her pussy and the insistent push at her back entrance.
The man doesn’t rush. He just keeps steady pressure, letting her feel every inch as he starts to sink inside. YooA’s mouth falls open in a silent, trembling “o” that quickly turns into a broken moan. Her walls flutter visibly around the cock in her pussy. Her thighs shake as the second man slides deeper, stretching her ass open around his lubed shaft. Double penetrated now - pussy stuffed full in front, ass slowly claimed from behind - she looks completely overwhelmed. Her hands scrabble at the shoulders of the man beneath her for balance. Her back arches, pushing her breasts forward as both men bottom out inside her at the same moment.
The phone keeps ringing beside her knee. Your name. Still unanswered.
Your hand speeds up, fast, slick strokes that match the frantic little rocking motions YooA starts making between them. She’s whimpering now, high and needy, head thrown back as the two cocks move inside her in counter-rhythm. One pulling out while the other pushes in, then switching. Her body trembles violently. Fresh tears of overstimulation spill down her cheeks, but she doesn’t try to stop them. She just takes it - takes both of them - while your name lights up the screen over and over beside her.
You stroke faster. Harder.
The shame is gone now, burned away by the sight of your wife split open, moaning like she’s never moaned for you, stuffed so full she can barely breathe.
YooA lets out a long, shattered cry as her body starts to shake apart between the two men. The phone keeps ringing on the mattress, screen glowing with your name, insistent and unforgiving.
YooA’s body is still trembling between the two men, pussy clenching around one thick cock, ass stretched tight around the other, but the sound finally cuts through the haze. Her eyes flutter open. A small, panicked whimper escapes her as she realizes what’s happening.
The man beneath her slows his shallow thrusts just enough to give her room to move. The one behind her pauses too, buried to the hilt, but he doesn’t pull out. His hands stay locked on her hips, holding her exactly where she is.
She reaches out with a shaking hand. Fingers close around the phone. She brings it to her ear just as the call is about to drop to voicemail.
“H-hello…?”
Her voice is wrecked, higher than usual, threaded with tiny hitches every time one of the men gives the slightest rock of his hips. You hear it instantly through your own speaker, the same strained, distracted tone from the call earlier today.
A sharp inhale. A tiny, stifled sound that might be a moan or a gasp.
“No! No, I… I was just, um… cleaning up. What’s up?”
She’s trying so hard. You can see it on the camera. Her free hand is braced on the chest of the man beneath her, knuckles white. Her thighs quiver as she fights to stay still, but the men aren’t making it easy. The one in her pussy gives a slow roll of his hips, just enough to nudge deeper without making obvious noise. Her eyes squeeze shut for a second. Her lips part in a silent cry.
You remember what you said after.
YooA bites her lip hard. The man behind her chooses that moment to pull back half an inch and sink in again. Her whole body jolts forward. A choked little “mmph” slips out before she can swallow it.
“Oh. Um. Yes, he’s-he’s here.”
Her words come out fractured.
“There was… more to do than we thought.”
You can see it all now, the full picture you could only imagine during the call.
She’s straddling one man, his cock buried to the base in her dripping pussy, her garter straps stretched tight across her trembling thighs. The second man is knelt behind her, hips flush against her ass, his thick length disappearing completely into her stretched hole. They’re both moving again, subtle, shallow rocks that keep her constantly full, constantly on edge. Every tiny shift makes her breasts sway, nipples still hard and dark above the shoved-down bra cups. Sweat glistens along her collarbone. A fresh tear tracks down her cheek, from the overwhelming, filthy intensity of being double stuffed while trying to talk to her husband.
You stroke yourself faster without meaning to, matching the rhythm.
YooA’s visibly struggling now, hips twitching involuntarily, trying to chase the pleasure even as she fights to keep her voice level.
“Y-yeah, everything’s… fine.”
The lie cracks on the last word. The man beneath her lifts his hips in a sudden shallow thrust. At the same instant the one behind her grinds forward. YooA’s head snaps back, mouth falling open in a silent scream. She clamps her free hand over her lips just in time to muffle the broken moan that tries to escape.
You hear the tail end of it anyway - a tiny, desperate sound that makes your cock throb harder in your fist.
She tries to answer. Really tries.
“That… sounds nice. I’ll, um, look forward to-”
Her words fracture into a sharp gasp as both men pick up the pace, just enough to make her body rock between them. The phone slips slightly against her ear.
She forces the rest out, voice trembling on the edge of tears.
“-it.”
A small, helpless whimper escapes before she can stop it.
You remember waiting for her to say “Love you” back. There’s a long beat of silence on her end. You can see her chest heaving, see the way her eyes glaze over as another slow, coordinated thrust from both men pushes her right to the brink.
Then, barely above a whisper, teeth clenched:
“L-love you too… I… I’ll see you soon…”
Another stifled cry. The phone clatters softly as her hand slips, right as she hangs up. On screen she drops the phone face down onto the sheets, both hands flying to the shoulders of the man beneath her for support. Her body finally gives in completely. Her hips rock desperately between them, chasing the double fullness, no longer trying to hide the moans spilling from her throat.
You watch her fall apart, shaking, crying out, stuffed so full she can barely form words, while your own hand flies faster along your shaft.
The shame is gone. All that’s left is the heat, the rhythm, and the unbearable truth that you can’t look away.
YooA’s body rocks helplessly between them. The man beneath her grips her hips and drives upward in steady, punishing strokes, his cock plunging deep into her soaked pussy with every lift of his hips. The man behind her matches the rhythm, pulling almost all the way out of her stretched ass before slamming back in, the slick sound of lube and skin-on-skin echoing through the tiny speaker on your end.
She’s reduced to pure pleasure now: mouth hanging open, eyes rolled back, drool slipping from her lips onto the chest of the man fucking her cunt. Her breasts bounce wildly with each coordinated thrust. Every time one cock withdraws, the other fills the void. Her holes grip them greedily, fluttering and clenching as if trying to pull them deeper.
You can see it happening in real time on the feed: her stomach tightening, her back arching harder, her fingers clawing at the shoulders beneath her. The pleasure is building too fast, too high…she can’t control it anymore. Small, broken whimpers turn into continuous, rising moans. You hear every filthy detail. The wet squelch of her pussy, the deeper, tighter slide in her ass, the low grunts from both men as they use her like she was made for exactly this.
Your own hand flies faster along your shaft, slick with precum, matching the brutal pace they set. You don’t even pretend to fight it anymore. The shame has burned away completely. All that’s left is the raw, pounding heat of watching your wife become nothing but a set of warm, willing holes for two strangers.
YooA’s moans pitch higher.
“I-oh god-I can’t-!”
Her whole body seizes.
The orgasm hits her like a wave breaking. Her pussy clamps down hard around the cock buried inside it. Her ass spasms in violent pulses around the other. She screams, the sound tearing through your ear. Her back bows so sharply you think her spine might snap. Her thighs quake uncontrollably as she rides the crest, juices gushing around the shaft in her cunt, dripping down onto the man beneath her and soaking the sheets you both sleep on every night.
The men don’t stop. They fuck her through it - harder, if anything - drawing out every shuddering aftershock. Her body jerks like it’s being electrocuted, overstuffed and overstimulated, tears streaming freely now as wave after wave crashes through her. Her mouth works soundlessly for a few seconds before another broken cry rips out.
You stroke yourself furiously, chasing the edge right along with her.
On screen she collapses forward onto the chest of the man beneath her, trembling, gasping, completely spent, but still impaled from both ends, still rocking weakly as they keep using her holes.
The phone lies forgotten beside her knee, screen dark.
You can hear her ragged breathing. You can hear the wet sounds of them still moving inside her. And you can hear the satisfied chuckle from one of the men as he murmurs something filthy against her ear.
Your balls tighten.
You’re right there. Your cock is throbbing, the familiar heat coiling hard in your gut. One more stroke, maybe two, and you’ll spill across your fist while your wife is still coming apart on another man’s dick.
But you stop.
Your grip freezes at the base, squeezing hard enough to hurt, forcing the orgasm back down. Breath hisses between your teeth. You want to wait. You need to see it…all of it. You need to watch until they’re finished with her, until they’ve used every hole they want and left her ruined in the bed you share. Only then will you let yourself go.
On screen the man buried in her pussy groans, hips giving one last lazy grind before he stills.
“Fuck… I want her ass.”
His voice is rough and possessive. The man in her ass chuckles once, then nods.
“Fine with me.”
They move together like they’ve done this before.
Hands slide under YooA’s thighs and around her waist. They lift her off their cocks in one coordinated motion. A wet, sucking sound echoes as both shafts slip free. Her holes gape for a heartbeat - pink, slick, ruined - before clenching weakly on nothing. She’s limp, boneless, head lolling against the shoulder of the man who’d been beneath her. Her arms dangle, her legs hang useless. Mascara streaked tears still shine on her cheeks, lips swollen and parted, chest heaving with shallow pants. She looks like a doll: beautiful, broken, completely spent.
They carry her easily between them, stepping off the bed. They turn her mid-air, so she faces the man who’d just been in her ass, the one who wants her pussy now. Her back presses to the chest of the other. Arms hook under her thighs, spreading her wide, holding her suspended like she weighs nothing. Her stockings are laddered in places, garter straps twisted. The red bra still clings uselessly below her breasts.
The man in front steps close. His cock, still glistening from her mouth and the lube, nudges her entrance. One slow push and he sinks into her cunt, all the way to the base in a single glide.
YooA gasps, voice cracking open again. Her head snaps back against the shoulder behind her. Eyes flutter wide for the first time since her climax. The sudden fullness reignites every oversensitive nerve. Her walls flutter weakly around him, trying to adjust. The man holding her from behind doesn’t wait. He lines up with her still gaping ass - tip pressing against the slick, loosened ring - and pushes forward.
YooA mewls.
It’s a high, helpless sound - half plea, half surrender - as he stretches her open again. He fills her ass while the other man stays buried deep in her pussy. The double penetration in this new position is brutal. Gravity pulls her down onto both cocks at once, no escape, no way to control the depth. Her body sinks helplessly between them until both are seated to the hilt, her ass and cunt stretched impossibly full once more. She trembles violently, legs kicking once in the air before going limp again. Her hands clutch weakly at the shoulders in front of her. Tiny, overwhelmed whimpers spill from her throat with every shallow rock they give her.
“Too much… oh god… too much…”
The words are barely coherent, slurred with pleasure and exhaustion, but her hips still twitch forward, tiny, involuntary rolls that betray how badly her body still wants it.
They hold her there, suspended, impaled, rocking her slowly between them like a toy made for exactly this. Her breasts bounce with each gentle thrust. Sweat and spit shine on her skin. Fresh tears well up as the overstimulation builds again far too fast.
You watch every second of it, hand frozen on your cock, breathing ragged, pulse hammering in your ears. They’re not done with her yet.
The two men hold YooA suspended between them like she weighs nothing, her thighs hooked over the arms of the man in front, her back pressed flush to the chest of the man behind. Gravity does half the work. Every subtle shift of their hips makes her sink deeper onto both cocks at once.
They lift her by the thighs and waist in perfect sync, pulling her almost completely off both shafts, then drop her back down hard. The wet slap of her ass meeting their hips echoes through the bedroom. YooA’s head snaps back on the first full drop, a raw, broken cry tears from her throat.
They do it again.
And again.
Bouncing her like a toy made for their pleasure, her pussy stretched wide around one thick cock, her ass gripping the other just as tightly. Each downward plunge forces a fresh gasp from her lips. Her breasts jolt with every impact, nipples brushing the chest in front of her. Sweat slicks her skin, making her glide easier between them. The garter straps dig red lines into her thighs, her stockings are ruined.
The man facing her, the one buried in her cunt, leans in. He catches her open mouth in a rough kiss. His tongue pushes past her lips. She moans into it helplessly, too overwhelmed to kiss back properly. He breaks away after a few seconds, only to dive back in, deeper this time, swallowing the next cry that tries to escape her. Another kiss. Then another. Each one messy, possessive, timed to the brutal rhythm of her body being lifted and dropped. Behind her, the other man keeps one hand locked under her thigh for leverage. His free palm cracks down on her already red ass in sharp, unpredictable slaps, hard enough to make the flesh jiggle, hard enough to leave fresh handprints blooming across the pale skin.
Smack.
YooA jolts forward onto the cock in her pussy.
Smack.
Her back arches, forcing both shafts deeper at once.
Smack.
She sobs into the mouth kissing hers.
The bouncing grows faster and stronger, her body weight doing most of the work now as they use her momentum against her. Her holes clench and flutter around them in frantic pulses. Juices drip steadily down the shaft in her cunt, coating the base, slicking the way for every punishing drop.
YooA’s voice cracks open between kisses.
“More-please-more-”
The plea spills out in fragments.
“Fuck-don’t stop-please-use me-”
She’s begging now – shameless and mindless - head lolling between kisses as her body is bounced harder. Her nails dig into the shoulders in front of her. Her thighs tremble violently around the arms holding her up. Every slap to her ass makes her clench tighter around both cocks. Every deep plunge drags another broken moan from her throat.
The man kissing her pulls back just long enough to growl against her lips.
“That’s it, baby. Beg for it. Let us hear how much you need this.”
YooA only whimpers in response, too far gone to form anything coherent. Her hips try to rock even as they control her completely - tiny, helpless twitches that prove she’s still chasing it, still desperate for more even after everything they’ve already taken.
They bounce her faster. Harder. The room fills with their rhythm: skin slapping skin, her gasping cries, the grunts from both men as they chase their own orgasms using her body.
You watch it all, hand frozen again on your cock, breathing shallow, every nerve tuned to the feed. She’s theirs right now. Completely. And she’s begging for it like she’s never begged for anything in her life.
They keep lifting YooA by the thighs and waist, pulling her up until both cocks are barely inside her, then dropping her back down with controlled force. Each full plunge forces a wet slap of skin on skin. Her pussy and ass stretch around them in perfect rhythm. Her body has no choice but to take every inch, every time.
YooA’s head lolls between the kisses the man in front keeps stealing. Her voice cracks open again.
“More-please-more-”
The words tumble out between gasps. But right on their heels come the contradictions, slurred and trembling.
“I can’t-I can’t take it-too much-fuck-don’t stop-”
She’s begging for both at once: more cock, more depth, more pleasure, while her body screams that it’s already past its limit. Her nails rake down the shoulders in front of her. Her thighs tremble violently around the arms holding her up. Every downward drop makes her breasts bounce. Every slap to her ass from the man behind sends a visible ripple through her flesh and a fresh clench through both her holes.
They bounce her faster. Harder.
The man facing her captures her mouth again, swallowing the next broken plea, while the one behind delivers another sharp crack to her red ass.
Smack.
YooA jolts forward, forcing both cocks deeper at once. Her cry vibrates into the kiss.
Smack.
Her back arches. Her holes flutter in frantic pulses.
Smack.
“Please-more-oh god-I can’t-yes-yes-”
The contradictions dissolve into pure, wordless noise. She’s beyond sentences now, just raw, rising whimpers that climb higher with every drop.
You watch it all from the hotel bed, hand wrapped tight around your cock, stroking in time with the relentless rhythm they’ve set for her. You match every lift, every plunge. Your balls ache with how close you are. But you hold on. You want to see her break again. You need to see it.
On screen, YooA’s stomach starts to tighten. Her moans pitch into sharp, panicked gasps. Her eyes roll back completely. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream that quickly turns vocal.
“I’m-fuck-I’m gonna-”
Her whole body seizes. The orgasm rips through her like lightning. Her pussy clamps down violently around the cock buried inside it. Her ass spasms in tight, rhythmic pulses around the other. Then - sudden and explosive - she squirts. A clear, forceful gush sprays out around the shaft in her cunt, drenching the man in front of her from chest to thighs. A long, hissing release that soaks his skin, drips down his legs and puddles on the hardwood floor beneath them. Her body convulses between the two cocks - shaking, jerking, completely out of control - as wave after wave crashes through her.
The men groan in unison. The one in front laughs, hips still rocking her through the peak. The one behind grips her ass harder, keeping her impaled while she loses her mind.
YooA’s cries fracture into sobs of pure overstimulation. Her head drops forward onto the shoulder in front of her. Her arms go limp. Every muscle in her body seems to melt at once. She hangs there, while the last weak spasms ripple through her holes. No more begging. No more contradictions. Just soft, shattered whimpers and the faint, wet sounds of their cocks still moving slowly inside her ruined body. They don’t stop bouncing her entirely, just slow to long, lazy strokes that drag out the aftershocks, letting her feel every inch while she floats in the wreckage of her climax.
You stroke yourself harder now, watching her hang limp and dripping between them, completely spent, completely theirs.
The edge is right there.
The two men slow their rhythm completely, drawing out the final moments as YooA hangs limp between them. Her body is slick with sweat and her own juices, thighs trembling, holes still fluttering weakly around the cocks buried inside her. They don’t rush the descent. Instead, they lower her slowly - strong hands under her thighs and around her waist - until her knees finally touch the hardwood floor.
She collapses forward onto all fours at first, then sinks back onto her heels, kneeling in the spreading puddle of her own squirt. The wet spot darkens the wood beneath her, droplets still clinging to the insides of her thighs and dripping from between her legs. Her red lingerie is ruined. Bra shoved down, garter straps twisted, stockings laddered and soaked. Strands of hair stick to her flushed cheeks and neck. She looks utterly wrecked.
Yet when she lifts her head and gazes up at them, her eyes are glassy with a strange, exhausted lust, lips parted, chest still heaving. She doesn’t speak. She just looks from one thick, glistening cock to the other, waiting.
The men step closer, standing over her. They each wrap a hand around their shafts - still hard, still slick from her body - and begin to stroke.
YooA stays perfectly still on her knees, chin tilted up, mouth slightly open like an offering. Her hands rest loosely on her thighs. She makes no move to touch herself or them. She simply waits, breath shallow, eyes locked on their pumping fists.
Your own hand, which had been frozen in the aftermath of her squirting orgasm, starts moving again. Faster now. Much faster. The sight of your wife on her knees, drenched and submissive, staring up at two strangers while they jerk off over her face...it’s too much. The shame that had started to creep back in is crushed under the fresh surge of heat.
It doesn’t take long.
The first man groans. His hips jerk forward. Thick ropes of cum erupt across YooA’s waiting features. The first stripe lands high on her cheekbone and slashes diagonally over the bridge of her nose. The second catches her open mouth, painting her lower lip white before dripping onto her chin. She doesn’t flinch. She only blinks, lashes fluttering as more lands - across her forehead, into her hair, down the side of her neck.
The second man follows almost immediately. His load is heavier and messier, spurting in forceful arcs that stripe her other cheek, her closed eyelids and the tip of her nose. One thick rope lands directly on her tongue. She closes her lips around it, swallowing once before more spills over her chin and onto her bare breasts.
They paint her completely, face glazed, features obscured under glistening white streaks, cum dripping from her chin in viscous trails.
At the exact moment the second man finishes with a final, shuddering groan, your own release hits. You cum hard - hot pulses spilling over your fist and onto your stomach - while staring at the frozen tableau on your phone screen: YooA kneeling between them, drenched in both their loads, mascara-streaked tears mixing with semen, lips parted and shining. Your wife. Marked. Claimed. Ruined.
The orgasm crashes through you in blinding waves.
Then it’s over.
The heat drains away almost instantly.
You slump back against the headboard, chest heaving, hand still loosely wrapped around your softening cock. The phone screen is still lit. YooA hasn’t moved. She’s still on her knees, face tilted up, breathing shallow.
One of the men - the one who’d been in her ass earlier - reaches down. His fingers thread roughly into her hair, gathering a fistful at the crown. He pulls her forward.
“Clean me up, baby.”
YooA obeys without hesitation. Her lips part wider. She takes his softening cock into her mouth, tongue working slowly, carefully, licking every trace of their combined mess from his shaft. Her eyes flutter half-closed again, exhausted but compliant.
You watch her do it, watch your wife kneel in a puddle of her own making, face painted white, dutifully sucking another man clean.
The shame returns like ice water. It floods your chest, your throat, your stomach. You just came, watching two strangers cum all over your wife’s face. You just came to the sight of her cleaning one of them with her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Your hand falls away from your cock. You feel sick. Dirty. Small.
But you don’t look away.
You just sit there, breathing shallow, staring at the woman you married while she finishes licking the last traces from the stranger’s cock, completely unaware that you’ve seen everything. That you’ve finished to it.
