u/RepulsiveComfort1888

She always played it on repeat. In the background of most of their cute little Instagram stories she posted... the ones where she’d mouth the words, flipping her hair and pouting into the camera like she wasn’t trying so hard.

I hated that I knew the lyrics by heart. But he told me it was their song. That’s what made it different.

So when I texted him to come over, I already had it queued up and on repeat. One tap. One little beat. And it started to play.

Soft at first… just enough to settle into the air like smoke. And when he knocked, I didn’t bother to fix my robe. I let it hang open just a little, slipping off one shoulder, the satin barely clinging to the tops of my thighs.

He stepped in like he always did... quiet, quick glances, jaw tight. No words. Just tension.

The song played in the background like it belonged here now. Like it had always belonged to me.

I tilted my head and smiled. “You recognize it?”

His eyes dropped to my chest, the way the robe dipped low and gave him a view she never would’ve let him have so soon. But he nodded, lips twitching at the corners. “Yeah.”

I stepped closer and brushed my fingers against his wrist... light, teasing and then turned around and walked toward the bedroom without saying another word. I could feel his eyes on me, feel his restraint starting to slip, feel how badly he wanted to follow.

The music trailed behind us like a thread pulling him deeper in.

My room was already warm, low lights glowing gold across the walls. The bed was freshly made, the sheets pulled tight, the air still holding the scent of jasmine and something sweeter... something just me.

I climbed onto the bed slowly, deliberately, letting the robe slide down my arms until it pooled around my knees. I laid back, spreading out across the pillows like an invitation.

He stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, just watching me. That song... her song swelled again as the chorus started to build.

I let it play.

I wanted him to hear it now, in this room, with me naked in front of him. I wanted to take it from her.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He moved like he didn’t trust himself — like he already knew this was a line we couldn’t uncross. But he came anyway.

I reached for his shirt first, pulling it over his head, my hands running down his chest like I owned it. Like she never had.

Then I kissed him just slow and soft at first, then deeper, my tongue teasing his, my hands sliding down his stomach, under the waistband of his jeans.

I broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against his lips:

“Let it play.”

I sat up on my knees, still wearing just the robe, and pressed my mouth to his chest... just below his collarbone. My lips moved slow, open-mouthed kisses trailing toward the dip of his throat while my fingers found the waistband of his jeans.

He breathed harder when I kissed right below his ear.

“You ever fuck her to this song?” I whispered.

His hand twitched. “Once.”

I smiled. “Make it twice.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Didn’t have to.

Because I was already sliding off the bed to kneel in front of him, already pulling his jeans down inch by inch, already staring up at him with the beat of her song dripping like honey around us.

And I could see it... that flicker in his eyes. The guilt. The hunger. The hesitation.

I reached for his cock through his boxers slow at first, teasing, rubbing up the length of it with my palm like I was getting to know it for the first time, even though we both knew better. He was hard already. Thick. Warm. Throbbing under my hand.

But I didn’t rush. I let the moment stretch, let him twitch and pulse in my palm while that sweet, stupid song played on. Like a soundtrack to a secret.

And then I stood up again, pressing my body to his, dragging the robe off my shoulders completely until it fell soundlessly to the floor. My lace panties the only thing left.

His hands found my hips, but he didn’t pull me in. He just stood there, staring like he wanted to remember me exactly like this.

“You’ll never hear it the same again,” I whispered against his mouth.

And then I climbed back onto the bed, spreading my thighs wide, biting my lip while I waited for him to decide.

The song played on.

She always played it on repeat. In the background of most of their cute little Instagram stories she posted... the ones where she’d mouth the words, flipping her hair and pouting into the camera like she wasn’t trying so hard.

I hated that I knew the lyrics by heart. But he told me it was their song. That’s what made it different.

So when I texted him to come over, I already had it queued up and on repeat. One tap. One little beat. And it started to play.

Soft at first… just enough to settle into the air like smoke. And when he knocked, I didn’t bother to fix my robe. I let it hang open just a little, slipping off one shoulder, the satin barely clinging to the tops of my thighs.

He stepped in like he always did... quiet, quick glances, jaw tight. No words. Just tension.

The song played in the background like it belonged here now. Like it had always belonged to me.

I tilted my head and smiled. “You recognize it?”

His eyes dropped to my chest, the way the robe dipped low and gave him a view she never would’ve let him have so soon. But he nodded, lips twitching at the corners. “Yeah.”

I stepped closer and brushed my fingers against his wrist... light, teasing and then turned around and walked toward the bedroom without saying another word. I could feel his eyes on me, feel his restraint starting to slip, feel how badly he wanted to follow.

The music trailed behind us like a thread pulling him deeper in.

My room was already warm, low lights glowing gold across the walls. The bed was freshly made, the sheets pulled tight, the air still holding the scent of jasmine and something sweeter... something just me.

I climbed onto the bed slowly, deliberately, letting the robe slide down my arms until it pooled around my knees. I laid back, spreading out across the pillows like an invitation.

He stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, just watching me. That song... her song swelled again as the chorus started to build.

I let it play.

I wanted him to hear it now, in this room, with me naked in front of him. I wanted to take it from her.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He moved like he didn’t trust himself — like he already knew this was a line we couldn’t uncross. But he came anyway.

I reached for his shirt first, pulling it over his head, my hands running down his chest like I owned it. Like she never had.

Then I kissed him just slow and soft at first, then deeper, my tongue teasing his, my hands sliding down his stomach, under the waistband of his jeans.

I broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against his lips:

“Let it play.”

I sat up on my knees, still wearing just the robe, and pressed my mouth to his chest... just below his collarbone. My lips moved slow, open-mouthed kisses trailing toward the dip of his throat while my fingers found the waistband of his jeans.

He breathed harder when I kissed right below his ear.

“You ever fuck her to this song?” I whispered.

His hand twitched. “Once.”

I smiled. “Make it twice.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Didn’t have to.

Because I was already sliding off the bed to kneel in front of him, already pulling his jeans down inch by inch, already staring up at him with the beat of her song dripping like honey around us.

And I could see it... that flicker in his eyes. The guilt. The hunger. The hesitation.

I reached for his cock through his boxers slow at first, teasing, rubbing up the length of it with my palm like I was getting to know it for the first time, even though we both knew better. He was hard already. Thick. Warm. Throbbing under my hand.

But I didn’t rush. I let the moment stretch, let him twitch and pulse in my palm while that sweet, stupid song played on. Like a soundtrack to a secret.

And then I stood up again, pressing my body to his, dragging the robe off my shoulders completely until it fell soundlessly to the floor. My lace panties the only thing left.

His hands found my hips, but he didn’t pull me in. He just stood there, staring like he wanted to remember me exactly like this.

“You’ll never hear it the same again,” I whispered against his mouth.

And then I climbed back onto the bed, spreading my thighs wide, biting my lip while I waited for him to decide.

The song played on.

She always played it on repeat. In the background of most of their cute little Instagram stories she posted... the ones where she’d mouth the words, flipping her hair and pouting into the camera like she wasn’t trying so hard.

I hated that I knew the lyrics by heart. But he told me it was their song. That’s what made it different.

So when I texted him to come over, I already had it queued up and on repeat. One tap. One little beat. And it started to play.

Soft at first… just enough to settle into the air like smoke. And when he knocked, I didn’t bother to fix my robe. I let it hang open just a little, slipping off one shoulder, the satin barely clinging to the tops of my thighs.

He stepped in like he always did... quiet, quick glances, jaw tight. No words. Just tension.

The song played in the background like it belonged here now. Like it had always belonged to me.

I tilted my head and smiled. “You recognize it?”

His eyes dropped to my chest, the way the robe dipped low and gave him a view she never would’ve let him have so soon. But he nodded, lips twitching at the corners. “Yeah.”

I stepped closer and brushed my fingers against his wrist... light, teasing and then turned around and walked toward the bedroom without saying another word. I could feel his eyes on me, feel his restraint starting to slip, feel how badly he wanted to follow.

The music trailed behind us like a thread pulling him deeper in.

My room was already warm, low lights glowing gold across the walls. The bed was freshly made, the sheets pulled tight, the air still holding the scent of jasmine and something sweeter... something just me.

I climbed onto the bed slowly, deliberately, letting the robe slide down my arms until it pooled around my knees. I laid back, spreading out across the pillows like an invitation.

He stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, just watching me. That song... her song swelled again as the chorus started to build.

I let it play.

I wanted him to hear it now, in this room, with me naked in front of him. I wanted to take it from her.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He moved like he didn’t trust himself — like he already knew this was a line we couldn’t uncross. But he came anyway.

I reached for his shirt first, pulling it over his head, my hands running down his chest like I owned it. Like she never had.

Then I kissed him just slow and soft at first, then deeper, my tongue teasing his, my hands sliding down his stomach, under the waistband of his jeans.

I broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against his lips:

“Let it play.”

I sat up on my knees, still wearing just the robe, and pressed my mouth to his chest... just below his collarbone. My lips moved slow, open-mouthed kisses trailing toward the dip of his throat while my fingers found the waistband of his jeans.

He breathed harder when I kissed right below his ear.

“You ever fuck her to this song?” I whispered.

His hand twitched. “Once.”

I smiled. “Make it twice.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Didn’t have to.

Because I was already sliding off the bed to kneel in front of him, already pulling his jeans down inch by inch, already staring up at him with the beat of her song dripping like honey around us.

And I could see it... that flicker in his eyes. The guilt. The hunger. The hesitation.

I reached for his cock through his boxers slow at first, teasing, rubbing up the length of it with my palm like I was getting to know it for the first time, even though we both knew better. He was hard already. Thick. Warm. Throbbing under my hand.

But I didn’t rush. I let the moment stretch, let him twitch and pulse in my palm while that sweet, stupid song played on. Like a soundtrack to a secret.

And then I stood up again, pressing my body to his, dragging the robe off my shoulders completely until it fell soundlessly to the floor. My lace panties the only thing left.

His hands found my hips, but he didn’t pull me in. He just stood there, staring like he wanted to remember me exactly like this.

“You’ll never hear it the same again,” I whispered against his mouth.

And then I climbed back onto the bed, spreading my thighs wide, biting my lip while I waited for him to decide.

The song played on.

She always played it on repeat. In the background of most of their cute little Instagram stories she posted... the ones where she’d mouth the words, flipping her hair and pouting into the camera like she wasn’t trying so hard.

I hated that I knew the lyrics by heart. But he told me it was their song. That’s what made it different.

So when I texted him to come over, I already had it queued up and on repeat. One tap. One little beat. And it started to play.

Soft at first… just enough to settle into the air like smoke. And when he knocked, I didn’t bother to fix my robe. I let it hang open just a little, slipping off one shoulder, the satin barely clinging to the tops of my thighs.

He stepped in like he always did... quiet, quick glances, jaw tight. No words. Just tension.

The song played in the background like it belonged here now. Like it had always belonged to me.

I tilted my head and smiled. “You recognize it?”

His eyes dropped to my chest, the way the robe dipped low and gave him a view she never would’ve let him have so soon. But he nodded, lips twitching at the corners. “Yeah.”

I stepped closer and brushed my fingers against his wrist... light, teasing and then turned around and walked toward the bedroom without saying another word. I could feel his eyes on me, feel his restraint starting to slip, feel how badly he wanted to follow.

The music trailed behind us like a thread pulling him deeper in.

My room was already warm, low lights glowing gold across the walls. The bed was freshly made, the sheets pulled tight, the air still holding the scent of jasmine and something sweeter... something just me.

I climbed onto the bed slowly, deliberately, letting the robe slide down my arms until it pooled around my knees. I laid back, spreading out across the pillows like an invitation.

He stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, just watching me. That song... her song swelled again as the chorus started to build.

I let it play.

I wanted him to hear it now, in this room, with me naked in front of him. I wanted to take it from her.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He moved like he didn’t trust himself — like he already knew this was a line we couldn’t uncross. But he came anyway.

I reached for his shirt first, pulling it over his head, my hands running down his chest like I owned it. Like she never had.

Then I kissed him just slow and soft at first, then deeper, my tongue teasing his, my hands sliding down his stomach, under the waistband of his jeans.

I broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against his lips:

“Let it play.”

I sat up on my knees, still wearing just the robe, and pressed my mouth to his chest... just below his collarbone. My lips moved slow, open-mouthed kisses trailing toward the dip of his throat while my fingers found the waistband of his jeans.

He breathed harder when I kissed right below his ear.

“You ever fuck her to this song?” I whispered.

His hand twitched. “Once.”

I smiled. “Make it twice.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Didn’t have to.

Because I was already sliding off the bed to kneel in front of him, already pulling his jeans down inch by inch, already staring up at him with the beat of her song dripping like honey around us.

And I could see it... that flicker in his eyes. The guilt. The hunger. The hesitation.

I reached for his cock through his boxers slow at first, teasing, rubbing up the length of it with my palm like I was getting to know it for the first time, even though we both knew better. He was hard already. Thick. Warm. Throbbing under my hand.

But I didn’t rush. I let the moment stretch, let him twitch and pulse in my palm while that sweet, stupid song played on. Like a soundtrack to a secret.

And then I stood up again, pressing my body to his, dragging the robe off my shoulders completely until it fell soundlessly to the floor. My lace panties the only thing left.

His hands found my hips, but he didn’t pull me in. He just stood there, staring like he wanted to remember me exactly like this.

“You’ll never hear it the same again,” I whispered against his mouth.

And then I climbed back onto the bed, spreading my thighs wide, biting my lip while I waited for him to decide.

The song played on.

I didn’t even bother cleaning up.

I laid there on his bed, on her side probably... legs parted, skin still sticky with his cum, her face still glowing on the phone screen beside me.

He was quiet. Sitting at the edge of the bed like he was trying to catch his breath. Or maybe trying to remember who he was supposed to feel guilty for.

I stretched lazily, moaning just a little for show, then rolled onto my back.

Her voice was still echoing in my head.

"Forever yours 💕" from that stupid post.

I picked up his phone again.

He didn’t stop me.

I tapped through her selfies... the ones with long captions about growth, about healing, about how much she loves him and how good he makes her feel.

Boring.

I felt his hand on my ankle, then his fingers sliding up my leg.

I looked over at him, raising a brow. “You ready again?”

He didn’t answer.

He just pulled my thighs apart again, crawled between them, and buried his face in the mess he left inside me.

“Fuck,” I gasped, fingers flying to his hair.

He devoured me.

There was no warmup, no sweet tongue flicks. Just pure hunger. Messy, shameless, cum-dripping hunger. Like he was punishing himself with it. Like he needed to taste the proof of how far gone he was.

And I let him.

I rocked against his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other still holding her Instagram open. I scrolled while he licked every drop of himself out of me.

“Mm,” I giggled, hips rolling slow. “She posted you again. This one’s from your mom’s birthday.”

His tongue flicked harder when I said that.

“God, she really thinks you’re hers,” I moaned, shivering as he sucked at my clit, groaning like he hated me for it. “Bet she has no idea you’re here like this… eating my pussy while her feed gets another like.”

My back arched. His fingers slipped inside. Two of them. Fast, wet, perfect.

I came with my legs clamped around his head, phone still clutched in my hand, body shaking so hard I almost dropped it.

And when I did, I tossed it next to me on the pillow... still open. Still smiling. Still her.

He pulled away, lips wet, face flushed, cock already hard again.

I licked my lips and held his gaze.

“Wanna take a picture?”

He froze.

“What?”

I leaned back and spread my legs for him, cum still dripping out of me.

“Take one. Right here. Me, wrecked in your sheets, dripping with your cum… and her still smiling in the background.”

He stared for a long second... torn between guilt and pure, fucked-up need and then reached for the phone.

Did he take it?

Doesn’t matter.

I had already won.

Because ten minutes later, when he came in me again, harder than the first two times, I was moaning her name into his ear... just to hear how badly it broke him.

I didn’t even bother cleaning up.

I laid there on his bed, on her side probably... legs parted, skin still sticky with his cum, her face still glowing on the phone screen beside me.

He was quiet. Sitting at the edge of the bed like he was trying to catch his breath. Or maybe trying to remember who he was supposed to feel guilty for.

I stretched lazily, moaning just a little for show, then rolled onto my back.

Her voice was still echoing in my head.

"Forever yours 💕" from that stupid post.

I picked up his phone again.

He didn’t stop me.

I tapped through her selfies... the ones with long captions about growth, about healing, about how much she loves him and how good he makes her feel.

Boring.

I felt his hand on my ankle, then his fingers sliding up my leg.

I looked over at him, raising a brow. “You ready again?”

He didn’t answer.

He just pulled my thighs apart again, crawled between them, and buried his face in the mess he left inside me.

“Fuck,” I gasped, fingers flying to his hair.

He devoured me.

There was no warmup, no sweet tongue flicks. Just pure hunger. Messy, shameless, cum-dripping hunger. Like he was punishing himself with it. Like he needed to taste the proof of how far gone he was.

And I let him.

I rocked against his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other still holding her Instagram open. I scrolled while he licked every drop of himself out of me.

“Mm,” I giggled, hips rolling slow. “She posted you again. This one’s from your mom’s birthday.”

His tongue flicked harder when I said that.

“God, she really thinks you’re hers,” I moaned, shivering as he sucked at my clit, groaning like he hated me for it. “Bet she has no idea you’re here like this… eating my pussy while her feed gets another like.”

My back arched. His fingers slipped inside. Two of them. Fast, wet, perfect.

I came with my legs clamped around his head, phone still clutched in my hand, body shaking so hard I almost dropped it.

And when I did, I tossed it next to me on the pillow... still open. Still smiling. Still her.

He pulled away, lips wet, face flushed, cock already hard again.

I licked my lips and held his gaze.

“Wanna take a picture?”

He froze.

“What?”

I leaned back and spread my legs for him, cum still dripping out of me.

“Take one. Right here. Me, wrecked in your sheets, dripping with your cum… and her still smiling in the background.”

He stared for a long second... torn between guilt and pure, fucked-up need and then reached for the phone.

Did he take it?

Doesn’t matter.

I had already won.

Because ten minutes later, when he came in me again, harder than the first two times, I was moaning her name into his ear... just to hear how badly it broke him.

I didn’t even bother cleaning up.

I laid there on his bed, on her side probably... legs parted, skin still sticky with his cum, her face still glowing on the phone screen beside me.

He was quiet. Sitting at the edge of the bed like he was trying to catch his breath. Or maybe trying to remember who he was supposed to feel guilty for.

I stretched lazily, moaning just a little for show, then rolled onto my back.

Her voice was still echoing in my head.

"Forever yours 💕" from that stupid post.

I picked up his phone again.

He didn’t stop me.

I tapped through her selfies... the ones with long captions about growth, about healing, about how much she loves him and how good he makes her feel.

Boring.

I felt his hand on my ankle, then his fingers sliding up my leg.

I looked over at him, raising a brow. “You ready again?”

He didn’t answer.

He just pulled my thighs apart again, crawled between them, and buried his face in the mess he left inside me.

“Fuck,” I gasped, fingers flying to his hair.

He devoured me.

There was no warmup, no sweet tongue flicks. Just pure hunger. Messy, shameless, cum-dripping hunger. Like he was punishing himself with it. Like he needed to taste the proof of how far gone he was.

And I let him.

I rocked against his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other still holding her Instagram open. I scrolled while he licked every drop of himself out of me.

“Mm,” I giggled, hips rolling slow. “She posted you again. This one’s from your mom’s birthday.”

His tongue flicked harder when I said that.

“God, she really thinks you’re hers,” I moaned, shivering as he sucked at my clit, groaning like he hated me for it. “Bet she has no idea you’re here like this… eating my pussy while her feed gets another like.”

My back arched. His fingers slipped inside. Two of them. Fast, wet, perfect.

I came with my legs clamped around his head, phone still clutched in my hand, body shaking so hard I almost dropped it.

And when I did, I tossed it next to me on the pillow... still open. Still smiling. Still her.

He pulled away, lips wet, face flushed, cock already hard again.

I licked my lips and held his gaze.

“Wanna take a picture?”

He froze.

“What?”

I leaned back and spread my legs for him, cum still dripping out of me.

“Take one. Right here. Me, wrecked in your sheets, dripping with your cum… and her still smiling in the background.”

He stared for a long second... torn between guilt and pure, fucked-up need and then reached for the phone.

Did he take it?

Doesn’t matter.

I had already won.

Because ten minutes later, when he came in me again, harder than the first two times, I was moaning her name into his ear... just to hear how badly it broke him.

I didn’t even bother cleaning up.

I laid there on his bed, on her side probably... legs parted, skin still sticky with his cum, her face still glowing on the phone screen beside me.

He was quiet. Sitting at the edge of the bed like he was trying to catch his breath. Or maybe trying to remember who he was supposed to feel guilty for.

I stretched lazily, moaning just a little for show, then rolled onto my back.

Her voice was still echoing in my head.

"Forever yours 💕" from that stupid post.

I picked up his phone again.

He didn’t stop me.

I tapped through her selfies... the ones with long captions about growth, about healing, about how much she loves him and how good he makes her feel.

Boring.

I felt his hand on my ankle, then his fingers sliding up my leg.

I looked over at him, raising a brow. “You ready again?”

He didn’t answer.

He just pulled my thighs apart again, crawled between them, and buried his face in the mess he left inside me.

“Fuck,” I gasped, fingers flying to his hair.

He devoured me.

There was no warmup, no sweet tongue flicks. Just pure hunger. Messy, shameless, cum-dripping hunger. Like he was punishing himself with it. Like he needed to taste the proof of how far gone he was.

And I let him.

I rocked against his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other still holding her Instagram open. I scrolled while he licked every drop of himself out of me.

“Mm,” I giggled, hips rolling slow. “She posted you again. This one’s from your mom’s birthday.”

His tongue flicked harder when I said that.

“God, she really thinks you’re hers,” I moaned, shivering as he sucked at my clit, groaning like he hated me for it. “Bet she has no idea you’re here like this… eating my pussy while her feed gets another like.”

My back arched. His fingers slipped inside. Two of them. Fast, wet, perfect.

I came with my legs clamped around his head, phone still clutched in my hand, body shaking so hard I almost dropped it.

And when I did, I tossed it next to me on the pillow... still open. Still smiling. Still her.

He pulled away, lips wet, face flushed, cock already hard again.

I licked my lips and held his gaze.

“Wanna take a picture?”

He froze.

“What?”

I leaned back and spread my legs for him, cum still dripping out of me.

“Take one. Right here. Me, wrecked in your sheets, dripping with your cum… and her still smiling in the background.”

He stared for a long second... torn between guilt and pure, fucked-up need and then reached for the phone.

Did he take it?

Doesn’t matter.

I had already won.

Because ten minutes later, when he came in me again, harder than the first two times, I was moaning her name into his ear... just to hear how badly it broke him.

I didn’t even bother cleaning up.

I laid there on his bed, on her side probably... legs parted, skin still sticky with his cum, her face still glowing on the phone screen beside me.

He was quiet. Sitting at the edge of the bed like he was trying to catch his breath. Or maybe trying to remember who he was supposed to feel guilty for.

I stretched lazily, moaning just a little for show, then rolled onto my back.

Her voice was still echoing in my head.

"Forever yours 💕" from that stupid post.

I picked up his phone again.

He didn’t stop me.

I tapped through her selfies... the ones with long captions about growth, about healing, about how much she loves him and how good he makes her feel.

Boring.

I felt his hand on my ankle, then his fingers sliding up my leg.

I looked over at him, raising a brow. “You ready again?”

He didn’t answer.

He just pulled my thighs apart again, crawled between them, and buried his face in the mess he left inside me.

“Fuck,” I gasped, fingers flying to his hair.

He devoured me.

There was no warmup, no sweet tongue flicks. Just pure hunger. Messy, shameless, cum-dripping hunger. Like he was punishing himself with it. Like he needed to taste the proof of how far gone he was.

And I let him.

I rocked against his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other still holding her Instagram open. I scrolled while he licked every drop of himself out of me.

“Mm,” I giggled, hips rolling slow. “She posted you again. This one’s from your mom’s birthday.”

His tongue flicked harder when I said that.

“God, she really thinks you’re hers,” I moaned, shivering as he sucked at my clit, groaning like he hated me for it. “Bet she has no idea you’re here like this… eating my pussy while her feed gets another like.”

My back arched. His fingers slipped inside. Two of them. Fast, wet, perfect.

I came with my legs clamped around his head, phone still clutched in my hand, body shaking so hard I almost dropped it.

And when I did, I tossed it next to me on the pillow... still open. Still smiling. Still her.

He pulled away, lips wet, face flushed, cock already hard again.

I licked my lips and held his gaze.

“Wanna take a picture?”

He froze.

“What?”

I leaned back and spread my legs for him, cum still dripping out of me.

“Take one. Right here. Me, wrecked in your sheets, dripping with your cum… and her still smiling in the background.”

He stared for a long second... torn between guilt and pure, fucked-up need and then reached for the phone.

Did he take it?

Doesn’t matter.

I had already won.

Because ten minutes later, when he came in me again, harder than the first two times, I was moaning her name into his ear... just to hear how badly it broke him.

I don’t even remember how it started.

One minute, we were sitting on his couch, half-dressed and tangled in each other. The next… he was inside me, and I was scrolling through her Instagram.

It was open on his phone. She’d messaged him something stupid... “hope ur day’s going good 🩷” and when he tossed it aside, I grabbed it.

Her page was still up. Her face. Her captions. Her feed full of those sweet little smiles she probably practiced in the mirror. God, she tried so hard to look effortless.

“You follow this every day?” I giggled, tilting the screen toward him as he fucked into me harder. “She still uses the dog filter.”

He didn’t answer.

He was too busy gripping my hips and slamming into me from behind, like he needed to shut me up with every thrust.

But I didn’t shut up. I moaned louder, scroll slower, lips curling into a wicked grin as I tapped her “date night” album. You know the one. Holding hands over sushi. Mirror pic in the restaurant bathroom. His hoodie on her shoulders.

I laughed.

“God, she really thinks she’s winning.”

His cock hit deeper... sharp and possessive like it pissed him off and turned him on all at once. I knew it did.

I arched my back more, dropping to my elbows so my ass was high and open and dripping for him.

“Bet she’d die if she saw what you’re doing to me right now.”

He groaned... loud, guttural and gripped my waist tighter, fingers digging into my skin as he fucked me harder. Faster. Meaner.

The sound of our bodies was slick, wet, obscene and echoed off the walls of his quiet little house while I kept swiping through her life.

“Look,” I said sweetly, pulling her smile closer to my face, “this one’s cute. You’re kissing her cheek.”

He didn’t say anything but his thrusts got rougher.

“You kissed her like this?” I teased, and then turned my head, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. “Or is this the mouth you save for me?”

He grabbed my hair and yanked me up, back arching as I gasped, the phone still clutched in my hand.

“That’s what I thought,” I whispered.

His mouth was on my neck a second later, biting, sucking, groaning my name like it hurt. His cock slammed up into me again, and again, and again, hitting just right. I was so fucking wet I could hear it and that messy, nasty sound of him splitting me open.

I let the phone fall to the bed and reached back to touch myself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, shaking, my fingers circling tight over my clit as his cock destroyed me from behind.

“Right here—” I whimpered, voice cracking, “fuck me right here, right where she kisses you goodnight.”

He lost it.

His hands locked on my waist and he fucked me like he wanted to erase her. Like I was the only thing he wanted to remember.

And when I came, it was hard.

My whole body clenched, heat blooming through me like fire as I collapsed into the sheets, still gasping, still soaking.

He didn’t stop.

He chased it with his hips slamming into me, cock twitching inside me, thrusts wild now... until he came too. Hard. Deep. So fucking deep.

He groaned like it broke him. Like he couldn’t believe he just filled me up like that.

I smiled.

Because as his cum spilled out of me and dripped down my thighs…

Her face was still glowing on the screen next to us.

I don’t even remember how it started.

One minute, we were sitting on his couch, half-dressed and tangled in each other. The next… he was inside me, and I was scrolling through her Instagram.

It was open on his phone. She’d messaged him something stupid... “hope ur day’s going good 🩷” and when he tossed it aside, I grabbed it.

Her page was still up. Her face. Her captions. Her feed full of those sweet little smiles she probably practiced in the mirror. God, she tried so hard to look effortless.

“You follow this every day?” I giggled, tilting the screen toward him as he fucked into me harder. “She still uses the dog filter.”

He didn’t answer.

He was too busy gripping my hips and slamming into me from behind, like he needed to shut me up with every thrust.

But I didn’t shut up. I moaned louder, scroll slower, lips curling into a wicked grin as I tapped her “date night” album. You know the one. Holding hands over sushi. Mirror pic in the restaurant bathroom. His hoodie on her shoulders.

I laughed.

“God, she really thinks she’s winning.”

His cock hit deeper... sharp and possessive like it pissed him off and turned him on all at once. I knew it did.

I arched my back more, dropping to my elbows so my ass was high and open and dripping for him.

“Bet she’d die if she saw what you’re doing to me right now.”

He groaned... loud, guttural and gripped my waist tighter, fingers digging into my skin as he fucked me harder. Faster. Meaner.

The sound of our bodies was slick, wet, obscene and echoed off the walls of his quiet little house while I kept swiping through her life.

“Look,” I said sweetly, pulling her smile closer to my face, “this one’s cute. You’re kissing her cheek.”

He didn’t say anything but his thrusts got rougher.

“You kissed her like this?” I teased, and then turned my head, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. “Or is this the mouth you save for me?”

He grabbed my hair and yanked me up, back arching as I gasped, the phone still clutched in my hand.

“That’s what I thought,” I whispered.

His mouth was on my neck a second later, biting, sucking, groaning my name like it hurt. His cock slammed up into me again, and again, and again, hitting just right. I was so fucking wet I could hear it and that messy, nasty sound of him splitting me open.

I let the phone fall to the bed and reached back to touch myself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, shaking, my fingers circling tight over my clit as his cock destroyed me from behind.

“Right here—” I whimpered, voice cracking, “fuck me right here, right where she kisses you goodnight.”

He lost it.

His hands locked on my waist and he fucked me like he wanted to erase her. Like I was the only thing he wanted to remember.

And when I came, it was hard.

My whole body clenched, heat blooming through me like fire as I collapsed into the sheets, still gasping, still soaking.

He didn’t stop.

He chased it with his hips slamming into me, cock twitching inside me, thrusts wild now... until he came too. Hard. Deep. So fucking deep.

He groaned like it broke him. Like he couldn’t believe he just filled me up like that.

I smiled.

Because as his cum spilled out of me and dripped down my thighs…

Her face was still glowing on the screen next to us.

I don’t even remember how it started.

One minute, we were sitting on his couch, half-dressed and tangled in each other. The next… he was inside me, and I was scrolling through her Instagram.

It was open on his phone. She’d messaged him something stupid... “hope ur day’s going good 🩷” and when he tossed it aside, I grabbed it.

Her page was still up. Her face. Her captions. Her feed full of those sweet little smiles she probably practiced in the mirror. God, she tried so hard to look effortless.

“You follow this every day?” I giggled, tilting the screen toward him as he fucked into me harder. “She still uses the dog filter.”

He didn’t answer.

He was too busy gripping my hips and slamming into me from behind, like he needed to shut me up with every thrust.

But I didn’t shut up. I moaned louder, scroll slower, lips curling into a wicked grin as I tapped her “date night” album. You know the one. Holding hands over sushi. Mirror pic in the restaurant bathroom. His hoodie on her shoulders.

I laughed.

“God, she really thinks she’s winning.”

His cock hit deeper... sharp and possessive like it pissed him off and turned him on all at once. I knew it did.

I arched my back more, dropping to my elbows so my ass was high and open and dripping for him.

“Bet she’d die if she saw what you’re doing to me right now.”

He groaned... loud, guttural and gripped my waist tighter, fingers digging into my skin as he fucked me harder. Faster. Meaner.

The sound of our bodies was slick, wet, obscene and echoed off the walls of his quiet little house while I kept swiping through her life.

“Look,” I said sweetly, pulling her smile closer to my face, “this one’s cute. You’re kissing her cheek.”

He didn’t say anything but his thrusts got rougher.

“You kissed her like this?” I teased, and then turned my head, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. “Or is this the mouth you save for me?”

He grabbed my hair and yanked me up, back arching as I gasped, the phone still clutched in my hand.

“That’s what I thought,” I whispered.

His mouth was on my neck a second later, biting, sucking, groaning my name like it hurt. His cock slammed up into me again, and again, and again, hitting just right. I was so fucking wet I could hear it and that messy, nasty sound of him splitting me open.

I let the phone fall to the bed and reached back to touch myself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, shaking, my fingers circling tight over my clit as his cock destroyed me from behind.

“Right here—” I whimpered, voice cracking, “fuck me right here, right where she kisses you goodnight.”

He lost it.

His hands locked on my waist and he fucked me like he wanted to erase her. Like I was the only thing he wanted to remember.

And when I came, it was hard.

My whole body clenched, heat blooming through me like fire as I collapsed into the sheets, still gasping, still soaking.

He didn’t stop.

He chased it with his hips slamming into me, cock twitching inside me, thrusts wild now... until he came too. Hard. Deep. So fucking deep.

He groaned like it broke him. Like he couldn’t believe he just filled me up like that.

I smiled.

Because as his cum spilled out of me and dripped down my thighs…

Her face was still glowing on the screen next to us.

I don’t even remember how it started.

One minute, we were sitting on his couch, half-dressed and tangled in each other. The next… he was inside me, and I was scrolling through her Instagram.

It was open on his phone. She’d messaged him something stupid... “hope ur day’s going good 🩷” and when he tossed it aside, I grabbed it.

Her page was still up. Her face. Her captions. Her feed full of those sweet little smiles she probably practiced in the mirror. God, she tried so hard to look effortless.

“You follow this every day?” I giggled, tilting the screen toward him as he fucked into me harder. “She still uses the dog filter.”

He didn’t answer.

He was too busy gripping my hips and slamming into me from behind, like he needed to shut me up with every thrust.

But I didn’t shut up. I moaned louder, scroll slower, lips curling into a wicked grin as I tapped her “date night” album. You know the one. Holding hands over sushi. Mirror pic in the restaurant bathroom. His hoodie on her shoulders.

I laughed.

“God, she really thinks she’s winning.”

His cock hit deeper... sharp and possessive like it pissed him off and turned him on all at once. I knew it did.

I arched my back more, dropping to my elbows so my ass was high and open and dripping for him.

“Bet she’d die if she saw what you’re doing to me right now.”

He groaned... loud, guttural and gripped my waist tighter, fingers digging into my skin as he fucked me harder. Faster. Meaner.

The sound of our bodies was slick, wet, obscene and echoed off the walls of his quiet little house while I kept swiping through her life.

“Look,” I said sweetly, pulling her smile closer to my face, “this one’s cute. You’re kissing her cheek.”

He didn’t say anything but his thrusts got rougher.

“You kissed her like this?” I teased, and then turned my head, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. “Or is this the mouth you save for me?”

He grabbed my hair and yanked me up, back arching as I gasped, the phone still clutched in my hand.

“That’s what I thought,” I whispered.

His mouth was on my neck a second later, biting, sucking, groaning my name like it hurt. His cock slammed up into me again, and again, and again, hitting just right. I was so fucking wet I could hear it and that messy, nasty sound of him splitting me open.

I let the phone fall to the bed and reached back to touch myself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, shaking, my fingers circling tight over my clit as his cock destroyed me from behind.

“Right here—” I whimpered, voice cracking, “fuck me right here, right where she kisses you goodnight.”

He lost it.

His hands locked on my waist and he fucked me like he wanted to erase her. Like I was the only thing he wanted to remember.

And when I came, it was hard.

My whole body clenched, heat blooming through me like fire as I collapsed into the sheets, still gasping, still soaking.

He didn’t stop.

He chased it with his hips slamming into me, cock twitching inside me, thrusts wild now... until he came too. Hard. Deep. So fucking deep.

He groaned like it broke him. Like he couldn’t believe he just filled me up like that.

I smiled.

Because as his cum spilled out of me and dripped down my thighs…

Her face was still glowing on the screen next to us.

I don’t even remember how it started.

One minute, we were sitting on his couch, half-dressed and tangled in each other. The next… he was inside me, and I was scrolling through her Instagram.

It was open on his phone. She’d messaged him something stupid... “hope ur day’s going good 🩷” and when he tossed it aside, I grabbed it.

Her page was still up. Her face. Her captions. Her feed full of those sweet little smiles she probably practiced in the mirror. God, she tried so hard to look effortless.

“You follow this every day?” I giggled, tilting the screen toward him as he fucked into me harder. “She still uses the dog filter.”

He didn’t answer.

He was too busy gripping my hips and slamming into me from behind, like he needed to shut me up with every thrust.

But I didn’t shut up. I moaned louder, scroll slower, lips curling into a wicked grin as I tapped her “date night” album. You know the one. Holding hands over sushi. Mirror pic in the restaurant bathroom. His hoodie on her shoulders.

I laughed.

“God, she really thinks she’s winning.”

His cock hit deeper... sharp and possessive like it pissed him off and turned him on all at once. I knew it did.

I arched my back more, dropping to my elbows so my ass was high and open and dripping for him.

“Bet she’d die if she saw what you’re doing to me right now.”

He groaned... loud, guttural and gripped my waist tighter, fingers digging into my skin as he fucked me harder. Faster. Meaner.

The sound of our bodies was slick, wet, obscene and echoed off the walls of his quiet little house while I kept swiping through her life.

“Look,” I said sweetly, pulling her smile closer to my face, “this one’s cute. You’re kissing her cheek.”

He didn’t say anything but his thrusts got rougher.

“You kissed her like this?” I teased, and then turned my head, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. “Or is this the mouth you save for me?”

He grabbed my hair and yanked me up, back arching as I gasped, the phone still clutched in my hand.

“That’s what I thought,” I whispered.

His mouth was on my neck a second later, biting, sucking, groaning my name like it hurt. His cock slammed up into me again, and again, and again, hitting just right. I was so fucking wet I could hear it and that messy, nasty sound of him splitting me open.

I let the phone fall to the bed and reached back to touch myself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, shaking, my fingers circling tight over my clit as his cock destroyed me from behind.

“Right here—” I whimpered, voice cracking, “fuck me right here, right where she kisses you goodnight.”

He lost it.

His hands locked on my waist and he fucked me like he wanted to erase her. Like I was the only thing he wanted to remember.

And when I came, it was hard.

My whole body clenched, heat blooming through me like fire as I collapsed into the sheets, still gasping, still soaking.

He didn’t stop.

He chased it with his hips slamming into me, cock twitching inside me, thrusts wild now... until he came too. Hard. Deep. So fucking deep.

He groaned like it broke him. Like he couldn’t believe he just filled me up like that.

I smiled.

Because as his cum spilled out of me and dripped down my thighs…

Her face was still glowing on the screen next to us.

Continued…

His cock was still inside me.

Softening slowly. Still twitching. Still leaking.

I stayed bent against the fridge, thighs slick, breath heavy, heart pounding in my ears.

Her sticky notes were everywhere. One of them had smeared slightly where my cheek had pressed too hard “You make me smile 💗” and now it looked more like a joke than a love note.

I reached for another one, peeled it from the door with cum-damp fingers, and stared at it.

“Don’t forget the milk!”

I laughed softly... a messy, breathless sound and slapped it to my thigh.

He pulled out then, and I gasped.

I felt everything. The slick trail of his cum spilling from between my thighs, dripping down my leg. Sticky and obscene.

His hands were still on me. One gliding over my ass, the other teasing down the curve of my back like he couldn’t stop touching me. Like he didn’t want to.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice rough. “You know that?”

I looked over my shoulder at him, bare and wrecked, legs parted, hair a mess, still trembling from how hard he’d used me.

I smiled.

“You didn’t stop me.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. His eyes dropped to the cum sliding down my inner thigh and stayed there.

“Again,” I whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“I want it again,” I said, turning around to face him fully now. “But this time… I want you on your knees.”

He stared at me like I’d just slapped him. But his cock twitched. Still wet. Already hardening again.

I backed up until I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs spread, one foot propped up on the drawer handle, the other dangling lazily.

“I want you to eat your cum out of me.”

His breath caught. His eyes darkened. That hunger... guilt-soaked, forbidden, furious and he came back all at once.

He dropped to his knees.

No hesitation.

And I tilted my hips forward, grabbing the edge of the counter for balance as he leaned in.

His tongue slid over the mess he’d made... slow, possessive, eager.

He licked me clean like it was the only thing that mattered.

His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open while he pushed his tongue inside me, tasting everything. His cum, my slick, the aftermath of what we’d done.

And I moaned for him.

Loud.

Shameless.

One of the heart-shaped sticky notes floated down from the fridge and landed in his hair, and I didn’t even stop to laugh.

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer, grinding into his mouth as he devoured me like he needed it to breathe.

“Fuck—yes—right there,” I gasped. “God, she has no idea what you really are.”

He groaned into me, fingers digging into my thighs, tongue working faster now, deeper.

When I came this time, I held his face against me, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like it was the only one that mattered.

Like hers never existed.

When he stood back up, lips shiny with everything he just swallowed, I didn’t wait.

I slid off the counter, turned him around, and pushed him into the fridge.

His back hit the notes.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, pumping his cock with one hand, tasting myself on the other.

“You like fucking me in her house?” I asked. “You like knowing your cum’s still dripping from me?”

He groaned, hips jerking forward, cock already hard again.

I licked from the base to the tip, watching his jaw clench.

“I bet you’ll think about this next time she’s standing here, smiling at you, wearing your hoodie.”

He didn’t last long. His hand tangled in my hair. His cock pulsed hot in my mouth as he came again... fast, deep, desperate.

I swallowed every drop, lips still wrapped around him, tongue swirling as he twitched on my tongue.

When I stood up, I grabbed one last sticky note.

“Love you. Always.”

I peeled it off the fridge and pressed it right over my breast.

We stared at each other for a long beat.

He didn’t say anything.

He just reached down and wiped the corner of my lip with his thumb, then walked away toward the bedroom... silent, spent, still hard with guilt.

I stayed behind, standing in the middle of her kitchen.

Still wet. Still used. Still full of her man’s cum.

The notes fluttered behind me.

The fridge beeped softly, left open too long.

And I smiled again.

Because next time she opens that door to grab the milk…

She’ll never know how many times he’s bent me against it.

Continued…

His cock was still inside me.

Softening slowly. Still twitching. Still leaking.

I stayed bent against the fridge, thighs slick, breath heavy, heart pounding in my ears.

Her sticky notes were everywhere. One of them had smeared slightly where my cheek had pressed too hard “You make me smile 💗” and now it looked more like a joke than a love note.

I reached for another one, peeled it from the door with cum-damp fingers, and stared at it.

“Don’t forget the milk!”

I laughed softly... a messy, breathless sound and slapped it to my thigh.

He pulled out then, and I gasped.

I felt everything. The slick trail of his cum spilling from between my thighs, dripping down my leg. Sticky and obscene.

His hands were still on me. One gliding over my ass, the other teasing down the curve of my back like he couldn’t stop touching me. Like he didn’t want to.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice rough. “You know that?”

I looked over my shoulder at him, bare and wrecked, legs parted, hair a mess, still trembling from how hard he’d used me.

I smiled.

“You didn’t stop me.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. His eyes dropped to the cum sliding down my inner thigh and stayed there.

“Again,” I whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“I want it again,” I said, turning around to face him fully now. “But this time… I want you on your knees.”

He stared at me like I’d just slapped him. But his cock twitched. Still wet. Already hardening again.

I backed up until I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs spread, one foot propped up on the drawer handle, the other dangling lazily.

“I want you to eat your cum out of me.”

His breath caught. His eyes darkened. That hunger... guilt-soaked, forbidden, furious and he came back all at once.

He dropped to his knees.

No hesitation.

And I tilted my hips forward, grabbing the edge of the counter for balance as he leaned in.

His tongue slid over the mess he’d made... slow, possessive, eager.

He licked me clean like it was the only thing that mattered.

His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open while he pushed his tongue inside me, tasting everything. His cum, my slick, the aftermath of what we’d done.

And I moaned for him.

Loud.

Shameless.

One of the heart-shaped sticky notes floated down from the fridge and landed in his hair, and I didn’t even stop to laugh.

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer, grinding into his mouth as he devoured me like he needed it to breathe.

“Fuck—yes—right there,” I gasped. “God, she has no idea what you really are.”

He groaned into me, fingers digging into my thighs, tongue working faster now, deeper.

When I came this time, I held his face against me, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like it was the only one that mattered.

Like hers never existed.

When he stood back up, lips shiny with everything he just swallowed, I didn’t wait.

I slid off the counter, turned him around, and pushed him into the fridge.

His back hit the notes.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, pumping his cock with one hand, tasting myself on the other.

“You like fucking me in her house?” I asked. “You like knowing your cum’s still dripping from me?”

He groaned, hips jerking forward, cock already hard again.

I licked from the base to the tip, watching his jaw clench.

“I bet you’ll think about this next time she’s standing here, smiling at you, wearing your hoodie.”

He didn’t last long. His hand tangled in my hair. His cock pulsed hot in my mouth as he came again... fast, deep, desperate.

I swallowed every drop, lips still wrapped around him, tongue swirling as he twitched on my tongue.

When I stood up, I grabbed one last sticky note.

“Love you. Always.”

I peeled it off the fridge and pressed it right over my breast.

We stared at each other for a long beat.

He didn’t say anything.

He just reached down and wiped the corner of my lip with his thumb, then walked away toward the bedroom... silent, spent, still hard with guilt.

I stayed behind, standing in the middle of her kitchen.

Still wet. Still used. Still full of her man’s cum.

The notes fluttered behind me.

The fridge beeped softly, left open too long.

And I smiled again.

Because next time she opens that door to grab the milk…

She’ll never know how many times he’s bent me against it.

Continued…

His cock was still inside me.

Softening slowly. Still twitching. Still leaking.

I stayed bent against the fridge, thighs slick, breath heavy, heart pounding in my ears.

Her sticky notes were everywhere. One of them had smeared slightly where my cheek had pressed too hard “You make me smile 💗” and now it looked more like a joke than a love note.

I reached for another one, peeled it from the door with cum-damp fingers, and stared at it.

“Don’t forget the milk!”

I laughed softly... a messy, breathless sound and slapped it to my thigh.

He pulled out then, and I gasped.

I felt everything. The slick trail of his cum spilling from between my thighs, dripping down my leg. Sticky and obscene.

His hands were still on me. One gliding over my ass, the other teasing down the curve of my back like he couldn’t stop touching me. Like he didn’t want to.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice rough. “You know that?”

I looked over my shoulder at him, bare and wrecked, legs parted, hair a mess, still trembling from how hard he’d used me.

I smiled.

“You didn’t stop me.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. His eyes dropped to the cum sliding down my inner thigh and stayed there.

“Again,” I whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“I want it again,” I said, turning around to face him fully now. “But this time… I want you on your knees.”

He stared at me like I’d just slapped him. But his cock twitched. Still wet. Already hardening again.

I backed up until I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs spread, one foot propped up on the drawer handle, the other dangling lazily.

“I want you to eat your cum out of me.”

His breath caught. His eyes darkened. That hunger... guilt-soaked, forbidden, furious and he came back all at once.

He dropped to his knees.

No hesitation.

And I tilted my hips forward, grabbing the edge of the counter for balance as he leaned in.

His tongue slid over the mess he’d made... slow, possessive, eager.

He licked me clean like it was the only thing that mattered.

His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open while he pushed his tongue inside me, tasting everything. His cum, my slick, the aftermath of what we’d done.

And I moaned for him.

Loud.

Shameless.

One of the heart-shaped sticky notes floated down from the fridge and landed in his hair, and I didn’t even stop to laugh.

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer, grinding into his mouth as he devoured me like he needed it to breathe.

“Fuck—yes—right there,” I gasped. “God, she has no idea what you really are.”

He groaned into me, fingers digging into my thighs, tongue working faster now, deeper.

When I came this time, I held his face against me, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like it was the only one that mattered.

Like hers never existed.

When he stood back up, lips shiny with everything he just swallowed, I didn’t wait.

I slid off the counter, turned him around, and pushed him into the fridge.

His back hit the notes.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, pumping his cock with one hand, tasting myself on the other.

“You like fucking me in her house?” I asked. “You like knowing your cum’s still dripping from me?”

He groaned, hips jerking forward, cock already hard again.

I licked from the base to the tip, watching his jaw clench.

“I bet you’ll think about this next time she’s standing here, smiling at you, wearing your hoodie.”

He didn’t last long. His hand tangled in my hair. His cock pulsed hot in my mouth as he came again... fast, deep, desperate.

I swallowed every drop, lips still wrapped around him, tongue swirling as he twitched on my tongue.

When I stood up, I grabbed one last sticky note.

“Love you. Always.”

I peeled it off the fridge and pressed it right over my breast.

We stared at each other for a long beat.

He didn’t say anything.

He just reached down and wiped the corner of my lip with his thumb, then walked away toward the bedroom... silent, spent, still hard with guilt.

I stayed behind, standing in the middle of her kitchen.

Still wet. Still used. Still full of her man’s cum.

The notes fluttered behind me.

The fridge beeped softly, left open too long.

And I smiled again.

Because next time she opens that door to grab the milk…

She’ll never know how many times he’s bent me against it.

Continued…

His cock was still inside me.

Softening slowly. Still twitching. Still leaking.

I stayed bent against the fridge, thighs slick, breath heavy, heart pounding in my ears.

Her sticky notes were everywhere. One of them had smeared slightly where my cheek had pressed too hard “You make me smile 💗” and now it looked more like a joke than a love note.

I reached for another one, peeled it from the door with cum-damp fingers, and stared at it.

“Don’t forget the milk!”

I laughed softly... a messy, breathless sound and slapped it to my thigh.

He pulled out then, and I gasped.

I felt everything. The slick trail of his cum spilling from between my thighs, dripping down my leg. Sticky and obscene.

His hands were still on me. One gliding over my ass, the other teasing down the curve of my back like he couldn’t stop touching me. Like he didn’t want to.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice rough. “You know that?”

I looked over my shoulder at him, bare and wrecked, legs parted, hair a mess, still trembling from how hard he’d used me.

I smiled.

“You didn’t stop me.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. His eyes dropped to the cum sliding down my inner thigh and stayed there.

“Again,” I whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“I want it again,” I said, turning around to face him fully now. “But this time… I want you on your knees.”

He stared at me like I’d just slapped him. But his cock twitched. Still wet. Already hardening again.

I backed up until I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs spread, one foot propped up on the drawer handle, the other dangling lazily.

“I want you to eat your cum out of me.”

His breath caught. His eyes darkened. That hunger... guilt-soaked, forbidden, furious and he came back all at once.

He dropped to his knees.

No hesitation.

And I tilted my hips forward, grabbing the edge of the counter for balance as he leaned in.

His tongue slid over the mess he’d made... slow, possessive, eager.

He licked me clean like it was the only thing that mattered.

His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open while he pushed his tongue inside me, tasting everything. His cum, my slick, the aftermath of what we’d done.

And I moaned for him.

Loud.

Shameless.

One of the heart-shaped sticky notes floated down from the fridge and landed in his hair, and I didn’t even stop to laugh.

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer, grinding into his mouth as he devoured me like he needed it to breathe.

“Fuck—yes—right there,” I gasped. “God, she has no idea what you really are.”

He groaned into me, fingers digging into my thighs, tongue working faster now, deeper.

When I came this time, I held his face against me, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like it was the only one that mattered.

Like hers never existed.

When he stood back up, lips shiny with everything he just swallowed, I didn’t wait.

I slid off the counter, turned him around, and pushed him into the fridge.

His back hit the notes.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, pumping his cock with one hand, tasting myself on the other.

“You like fucking me in her house?” I asked. “You like knowing your cum’s still dripping from me?”

He groaned, hips jerking forward, cock already hard again.

I licked from the base to the tip, watching his jaw clench.

“I bet you’ll think about this next time she’s standing here, smiling at you, wearing your hoodie.”

He didn’t last long. His hand tangled in my hair. His cock pulsed hot in my mouth as he came again... fast, deep, desperate.

I swallowed every drop, lips still wrapped around him, tongue swirling as he twitched on my tongue.

When I stood up, I grabbed one last sticky note.

“Love you. Always.”

I peeled it off the fridge and pressed it right over my breast.

We stared at each other for a long beat.

He didn’t say anything.

He just reached down and wiped the corner of my lip with his thumb, then walked away toward the bedroom... silent, spent, still hard with guilt.

I stayed behind, standing in the middle of her kitchen.

Still wet. Still used. Still full of her man’s cum.

The notes fluttered behind me.

The fridge beeped softly, left open too long.

And I smiled again.

Because next time she opens that door to grab the milk…

She’ll never know how many times he’s bent me against it.

Continued…

His cock was still inside me.

Softening slowly. Still twitching. Still leaking.

I stayed bent against the fridge, thighs slick, breath heavy, heart pounding in my ears.

Her sticky notes were everywhere. One of them had smeared slightly where my cheek had pressed too hard “You make me smile 💗” and now it looked more like a joke than a love note.

I reached for another one, peeled it from the door with cum-damp fingers, and stared at it.

“Don’t forget the milk!”

I laughed softly... a messy, breathless sound and slapped it to my thigh.

He pulled out then, and I gasped.

I felt everything. The slick trail of his cum spilling from between my thighs, dripping down my leg. Sticky and obscene.

His hands were still on me. One gliding over my ass, the other teasing down the curve of my back like he couldn’t stop touching me. Like he didn’t want to.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice rough. “You know that?”

I looked over my shoulder at him, bare and wrecked, legs parted, hair a mess, still trembling from how hard he’d used me.

I smiled.

“You didn’t stop me.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. His eyes dropped to the cum sliding down my inner thigh and stayed there.

“Again,” I whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“I want it again,” I said, turning around to face him fully now. “But this time… I want you on your knees.”

He stared at me like I’d just slapped him. But his cock twitched. Still wet. Already hardening again.

I backed up until I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs spread, one foot propped up on the drawer handle, the other dangling lazily.

“I want you to eat your cum out of me.”

His breath caught. His eyes darkened. That hunger... guilt-soaked, forbidden, furious and he came back all at once.

He dropped to his knees.

No hesitation.

And I tilted my hips forward, grabbing the edge of the counter for balance as he leaned in.

His tongue slid over the mess he’d made... slow, possessive, eager.

He licked me clean like it was the only thing that mattered.

His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open while he pushed his tongue inside me, tasting everything. His cum, my slick, the aftermath of what we’d done.

And I moaned for him.

Loud.

Shameless.

One of the heart-shaped sticky notes floated down from the fridge and landed in his hair, and I didn’t even stop to laugh.

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer, grinding into his mouth as he devoured me like he needed it to breathe.

“Fuck—yes—right there,” I gasped. “God, she has no idea what you really are.”

He groaned into me, fingers digging into my thighs, tongue working faster now, deeper.

When I came this time, I held his face against me, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like it was the only one that mattered.

Like hers never existed.

When he stood back up, lips shiny with everything he just swallowed, I didn’t wait.

I slid off the counter, turned him around, and pushed him into the fridge.

His back hit the notes.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, pumping his cock with one hand, tasting myself on the other.

“You like fucking me in her house?” I asked. “You like knowing your cum’s still dripping from me?”

He groaned, hips jerking forward, cock already hard again.

I licked from the base to the tip, watching his jaw clench.

“I bet you’ll think about this next time she’s standing here, smiling at you, wearing your hoodie.”

He didn’t last long. His hand tangled in my hair. His cock pulsed hot in my mouth as he came again... fast, deep, desperate.

I swallowed every drop, lips still wrapped around him, tongue swirling as he twitched on my tongue.

When I stood up, I grabbed one last sticky note.

“Love you. Always.”

I peeled it off the fridge and pressed it right over my breast.

We stared at each other for a long beat.

He didn’t say anything.

He just reached down and wiped the corner of my lip with his thumb, then walked away toward the bedroom... silent, spent, still hard with guilt.

I stayed behind, standing in the middle of her kitchen.

Still wet. Still used. Still full of her man’s cum.

The notes fluttered behind me.

The fridge beeped softly, left open too long.

And I smiled again.

Because next time she opens that door to grab the milk…

She’ll never know how many times he’s bent me against it.

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

But then again…

The house was quiet. Almost too quiet. There was a single lamp on in the living room, casting a warm, soft glow across the kitchen tiles. I could hear the low hum of the refrigerator before I even stepped fully inside.

Her shoes were still by the door. Her purse was hanging on the hook. But she wasn’t home. That was all that mattered.

He stood in the kitchen in gray sweatpants and nothing else, sipping water straight from the bottle. His hair was tousled like he hadn’t slept much or maybe he hadn’t wanted to.

He turned when he heard me. His eyes scanned me slowly, starting at the boots, crawling up bare legs, stopping at the hem of the long t-shirt I’d thrown on... his shirt.

I wasn’t wearing anything under it.

He noticed. And his cock twitched in his pants.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

I walked toward him, slow, deliberate. Each step echoing off the tile, each movement heavy with what we weren’t supposed to be doing.

I passed her mug on the counter. Passed the sweet little bowl of fruit she kept perfectly arranged. And finally stopped in front of the fridge.

It was covered in her handwriting. Sticky notes in pink and yellow and heart shapes. “Dinner at 7 💛” “Love you ~ pick me up later 🥰” “Don’t forget the eggs!” A grocery list. A chore reminder. A photo strip of them from a photo booth.

I turned to face him, one hand behind me pressing against the fridge door.

“You miss her?” I asked, voice low, teasing.

His jaw tensed.

“Not right now,” he said, stepping closer.

I dragged my finger down the edge of one of the notes. A pink one. A heart.

I could feel his body heat now, towering over me, the air between us thick.

I leaned back against the fridge, letting the coolness press against the curve of my ass through the thin shirt.

“You gonna fuck me right here?” I whispered. “While her notes are still stuck all over it?”

He grabbed my hips and spun me around, making me face the fridge again.

“I’m gonna fuck you on them.”

He shoved the shirt up, exposing the bare skin of my thighs and ass. No panties. Just me. Waiting. Ready.

He groaned when he saw, and pressed his hips forward, rubbing the thick bulge of his cock against me through his sweats.

I arched back into him, spreading my legs a little, grinding.

“You gonna pretend I’m her?” I asked, breathless. “Or do you want it dirtier than she’d ever give you?”

He didn’t answer.

He just pulled his cock out... thick, flushed, already leaking and slid it between my thighs, rubbing it against my pussy, slow and heavy, letting me feel every inch without pushing in.

I whimpered.

The fridge was cold. My body was burning.

And her sticky notes were inches from my face.

Then he pushed in.

All at once.

No warning. No teasing.

Just thick, bare cock stretching me open until I gasped and grabbed the fridge handle like it could steady me.

He held me by the hips, burying himself deep. Filling me. Owning me.

The fridge magnets rattled from the impact. Her heart-shaped notes trembled with every thrust.

He started slow, letting me feel it. Letting me ache for it.

“Fuck,” I moaned. “She doesn’t take it like this, does she?”

He grunted... angry, guilty, desperate and slammed into me harder. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the kitchen.

“She’d cry if I fucked her like this,” he growled.

“She’d fall apart,” I panted, pushing back on him. “I want you to ruin me.”

 And he did.

He gripped my hair and pulled, bending me lower, making my cheek press to the fridge.

My lips brushed one of her notes.

“You’re my everything 💕”

I moaned against it.

He pounded into me harder. Faster.

His cock dragged through every slick inch, soaked with how wet I already was.

Each thrust pushed me forward into her words. Each thrust erased any space between guilt and hunger.

My hands slammed against the fridge as he kept going. His fingers left bruises on my hips. His breath hitched. My moans got louder.

“Fuck—” I gasped. “I’m close—don’t stop—”

His pace didn’t change.

Just hard, fast, deep. Like he wanted to empty something inside himself.

Like he wanted her notes to watch what he did to me.

I was shaking, crying out, body convulsing.

“Cum in me,” I begged. “Don’t you fucking dare pull out.”

His hand clapped over my mouth and he fucked me right through my orgasm — relentless, merciless.

My pussy clenched around him, soaked, dripping, twitching.

He groaned loud into my ear, hips stuttering, cock swelling—

And he came.

Thick. Raw. Deep inside.

He didn’t stop right away. Just stayed buried, cock twitching inside me, breath ragged. My thighs were shaking. My stomach pressed to the fridge door. My cheek against her handwriting.

And her little pink heart-shaped note?

Still stuck right next to my face.