SPH-THEMED EROTICA STORIES

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Part 2…

I woke up to the familiar sound of the shower running–the rhythmic patter of water against tile, punctuated by soft, muffled moans. The sheets beside me were cold, rumpled where Aria had been. The indentation in the mattress still held the warmth of her body, the faint scent of sex and sweat clinging to the fabric.

I rolled onto my side, listening. The shower glass was fogged, but the silhouette was unmistakable: Aria’s curves pressed against the steamed surface, her hands braced against the wall, her head tipped back. Behind her, J’s broad shadow moved with slow, deliberate thrusts, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. A whimper escaped her lips, sharp and needy, before dissolving into something lower, more broken.

I went to pee–or rather, I attempted to, shuffling past the bathroom door with deliberate casualness. The sound of water hitting skin was obscenely loud, mixed with the wet slap of flesh and the creak of the shower caddy swinging with their movements. Peeking past the half-shower glass wall, I caught a glimpse of J’s form: his biceps flexing as he lifted Aria effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist, her breasts bouncing with each deep, grinding thrust. The steam fogged the glass again, but not before I saw her mouth drop open in a silent scream, her fingers scrambling for purchase against the slick tiles.

The sink counter was cluttered with evidence of their early-morning activities — a half-empty tube of lube lay uncapped, its contents oozing onto my toothbrush holder. I picked it up with two fingers, watching the viscous liquid drip onto the porcelain, and felt my cock twitch pathetically.

Through the shower’s fogged glass, Aria’s moans crescendoed–a broken, guttural sound that didn’t even sound human anymore. The silhouette of J’s hands slipped between her thighs, his fingers working her clit with ruthless precision as he fucked her from behind. Her knees buckled; her forehead pressed against the tile as her ass jiggled with each punishing thrust. Water sloshed over the shower threshold, pooling around my bare feet.

As I finished peeing, Aria’s moans hitched into a desperate chant–“Ohgodohgodohgod”– her voice cracking on each syllable as J’s hips pistoned faster. Steam billowed out in thick clouds that carried the scent of sex and expensive body wash. A sudden, wet slap echoed off the tiles, followed by Aria’s sharp cry and J’s growled voice: “Fuck!”

The bathroom mirror had fogged entirely over, except for one clear streak where Aria’s hand had smeared it during their earlier activities. Through this accidental window, I watched J’s reflection grab a fistful of her dripping hair and yank her head back–exposing the love bites peppering her throat as he pounded into her with brutal efficiency. Water cascaded over Aria’s flushed breasts, her nipples pebbled tight from the alternating heat of the shower and J’s rough handling.

Without warning, J stepped out of the shower–water sluicing off his muscular frame–a smile curling his lips as he caught me staring. His cock stood at half-mast, glistening in the morning light–still thicker than anything I’d ever given Aria. He squeezed the base lazily, forcing out a thick pearl of cum that landed on my bare foot. “Oh! Hey, Scott–Sorry–” he murmured, leaning past me to grab a towel. The scent of Aria’s arousal clung to him–musky and undeniable. “I just had to have her one more time before I have to leave.”

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Not with Aria still gasping against the shower tiles, her fingers trailing down the fogged glass as she whimpered–legs shaking, pussy gaping obscenely while water dripped from her swollen lips.

As J headed downstairs to the kitchen, muttering something about needing some coffee, I stepped into the shower, my hands trembling as they traced Aria’s shaking thighs–still spread wide from J’s brutal exit. Her breath hitched when my fingertips grazed the stretched, puffy flesh of her labia, her body twitching with oversensitivity even as fresh arousal slicked my fingers. “Didn’t think… didn’t think he would still have so much cum,” she whispered hoarsely, her forehead resting against the tiles as hot water sluiced between her thighs, carrying ribbons of J’s cum down the drain.

She embraced me clumsily, her wet body pressing against mine with none of the resistance she’d shown last night–just pliant exhaustion and the lingering heat of J’s relentless fucking. The shower spray pounded against my back as she nuzzled into my throat, her breath hitching when my fingers explored the swollen mess between her legs. “Feels like… like I’ve been split open,” she murmured, her hips jerking involuntarily as my thumb brushed her oversensitive clit. A fresh trickle of arousal mixed with the water beading down her inner thighs–proof her body wasn’t done betraying her.

She started sobbing into my chest–not the dramatic tears of pleasure from last night, but something quieter, broken. “I can’t stop thinking about his cock,” she confessed between shuddering breaths, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “Even when he wasn’t fucking me, I kept tasting him in my mouth… feeling him inside me like a ghost.” The admission made her thighs clamp reflexively around my wrist, trapping my fingers against her swollen entrance where J’s cum still seeped out in warm pulses.

“I’m so sorry, Scott,” Aria gasped, her voice raw from screaming J’s name all night. Her fingers traced my jawline with a tenderness that clashed violently with the bite marks J had left on her collarbone. “I didn’t mean–” A full-body shudder cut her off as another trickle of J’s cum escaped her ruined hole, swirling down the drain between our feet. Her thighs squeezed around my hand instinctively, her cunt pulsing around nothing as residual pleasure wracked her oversensitive body.

I withdrew my hand and held her in a tight embrace. My fully erect cock, small as it was, nuzzled against her gaping folds. My wife shuddered as I stroked her back, feeling the goosebumps beneath my fingers from where the hot shower water was hitting her sensitive skin.

I slipped in easily as Aria continued crying against my shoulder–too well-used to offer any resistance now. Her hips jerked involuntarily with each shallow thrust, her body still wired to respond despite the night’s excesses. “Shhh, it’s okay,” I lied, tasting the shower water mixing with her tears on my lips as my cock moved through the slick, stretched warmth J had left behind.

“I’m sorry for all those–things I said about you last night,” Aria whispered into my shoulder, her fingers tightening against my back as my hips moved in slow, shallow strokes. Her voice cracked–half sob, half moan–as my cock dragged through the loosened heat of her, the sensation muted but still electric. “I didn’t mean–ohgod–” Her protest dissolved into a shuddering gasp “–to make fun of your–” She paused briefly and then blurted out the truth we’ve known for years. “–*tiny* cock!”

My movement halted instinctively, my body recoiling at the casual cruelty even as her cunt clenched around me reflexively–betraying her arousal at the degradation. Aria’s breath hitched, her nails digging into my skin as she realized her slip. “No! Wait–” She scrambled to correct herself, her hips rolling desperately to keep me inside her. “I just–I *like* how small you are, how–how it doesn’t hurt anymore after–” Her voice broke again as another trickle of J’s cum seeped out around my shaft, the evidence of her preference dripping between us.

I came–not from pleasure, but from sheer humiliation, my cock pulsing violently inside her ruined hole as hot shame flooded my veins. Aria’s gasp echoed off the tiles, her thighs trembling against mine as she instinctively milked my unexpected monstrous release, her body conditioned to squeeze every drop even from inadequate cocks. The shower water turned my tears into meaningless rivulets as I slumped against her, my forehead pressing into her shoulder. “I love you–” We both murmured to each other as my cock slipped out, followed by a fresh gush of my seed.

I towelled Aria off and led her to our cum-stained bed. She was exhausted and fell asleep immediately–a mix of J’s and my cum seeping out of her gaped pussy.

But I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I found myself padding barefoot down the staircase, my soles flinching against the cold hardwood–still nude from the shower.

Morning light streamed through the bay window, gilding J’s silhouette where he stood with his back to me–utterly unselfconscious in his nudity. Steam curled from the mug in his left hand, his weight shifted casually onto his right hip in a pose that accentuated the powerful V of his torso tapering down to an ass that looked carved from stone. Sunlight caught the ridges of his lumbar muscles, shadows pooling in the dimples above his flexed glutes as he sipped his coffee with the ease of a man who owned every space he occupied.

My breath hitched when he turned–not at the corded abs or the dark thatch of hair dusting his pectorals–but at the obscene weight swinging lazily between his thighs. Even soft, he dwarfed me; his flaccid cock hung thick as my wrist, the foreskin bunching loosely around a plum-sized head that glistened with residual moisture from the shower. His balls–utterly drained after the marathon night–rested heavy against his thighs like overripe fruit, the sack wrinkled and loose in a way that spoke of volumes spent inside my wife.

“Morning, bro,” J rumbled, tossing me an easy wink before taking another sip of coffee. His biceps flexed with the motion, drawing attention to the fresh nail marks raked down his forearm–Aria’s frantic signature. “Hope you don’t mind I helped myself.” His free hand gestured vaguely toward the Keurig while his cock twitched against his thigh.

The irony wasn’t lost on me–J apologizing for *coffee* while our marriage still dripped from his softening dick. Steam curled from his mug when he set it down with a clink, his knuckles brushing against mine as he reached past me for the creamer. The contact sent an electric jolt up my arm–his skin still furnace-hot from Aria’s body.

“Look–I just wanted to say last night was amazing–” J started as he picked up his cup from the table. “Sorry if I went too far with the cuck stuff–I’ve never done this before, but it seemed you two were into it–” half asking for approval.

I swallowed hard, my gaze darting between his earnest expression and the fresh bite marks on his pec–Aria’s teeth imprinted deep enough to bruise. My cock stirred pathetically at the memory of her screaming his name into that muscle while he stretched her pussy beyond recognition.

“It’s… fine,” I lied, my voice cracking as I gestured toward the fridge. The motion made my soft dick sway–a pitiful contrast to J’s heavy flaccid weight. “We’ve–” My throat closed around the words *fantasized about this for years.*

J chuckled, leaning against the counter with effortless grace.

“If you were to tell me last week that my 43-year-old wife was going to take *that*,” I mused, nodding toward his still-damp cock, “I’d have called you a liar,” J smirked as his fingers idly traced the purpling bite marks along his inner thigh–Aria’s frenzied signature. The coffee machine gurgled between us, its rhythmic hiss underscoring the sticky silence.

“43?!?!” J looked confused. “Thought she was early 30s max.” He flexed his biceps absently, making the teeth marks along his forearm stretch. “Fucks like she’s 23 though.”

“Oh, you know what they say about Asians,” I muttered before I could stop myself, immediately regretting the self-deprecating joke. J’s eyebrows shot up as he took another sip, his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop on his lower lip–the same tongue that had been buried in my wife’s cunt last night.

“I meant how Asians don’t raisin,” I clarified weakly, but J was already shaking his head with a predatory grin. He set his mug down with deliberate slowness, the ceramic clicking against granite as he stepped closer–his bare feet slapping against the tile in a way that made my pulse stutter.

Aria’s beautiful–” J gushed. “She reminds me a bit of my girlfriend–”

“Girlfriend?” The word tumbled from my lips before I could stop it, my gaze flickering to his left hand–bare as mine–then back to his smug grin.

“Yeah, she’s Chinese too–I guess you could say I have a type,” J chuckled, his abs flexed unconsciously as he leaned against the counter. His cock twitched at the memory, still glistening with Aria’s spit from their shower romp. “Her name’s Jasmine. She’s just 23, so a couple of years younger than me. Been together for about a year now.”

My throat went dry. “And she… takes all that?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, my eyes darting to his monstrous flaccid length–thicker than my wrist even at rest.

J laughed–a rich, booming sound that made his cock sway obscenely. “Nah, man. Jasmine’s tiny–like, 5’2″ soaking wet. Cute as fuck, built like a doll.” He smirked as his fingers idly traced the stretch marks on his shaft–pale silvery lines that spoke of impossible growth. “Her little pussy bottoms out after six inches tops. Then she starts crying about it hitting her cervix.” The way he said it–equal parts fond and frustrated–sent an electric jolt through me.

J picked up a picture frame of Aria and me from the kitchen counter, turning it absently in his massive hands. His thumb smudged the glass where it brushed over Aria’s laughing face. “Honestly, man, I figured I’d just give your wife the first half–maybe bottom out against her cervix as I do with Jasmine,” he admitted, a hint of wonder creeping into his gruff voice. “But when she took the whole thing…” His cock twitched visibly against his thigh, the swollen head darkening as blood rushed south. “Fuck. Never felt anything like it. That tight little pussy just… swallowed me whole.”

The name Jasmine pinged something in my memory — my former coworker, the cute one I had an office crush on. She’s named Jasmine, and I still keep in touch with her on Instagram. I used to jerk off to the thought of her–this petite Chinese girl with beautiful crescent-shaped eyes that lit up the room and a tight ass that bounced when she walked. She’s Asian — just like Aria — but younger. From her Insta posts, I knew she was seeing someone, but could J be that someone?

J continued talking as he got up to move to grab his clothes that were strewn across our living room furniture–his boxers draped over the armrest where Aria had peeled them off him last night with her teeth. “Yeah, Jasmine’s great–works in tech like you actually. Freaky little thing once you get her warmed up.” He smirked as he stepped into his briefs, the fabric straining over his thick thighs. “Though she’ll never admit she loves getting stretched open as your wife does.”

My breath hitched as I watched him struggle to contain his still-semi-hard cock–the elastic waistband barely containing the monstrous outline as it twitched against the cotton. J grunted in frustration, adjusting himself with rough tugs that made the veins stand out along his shaft. “Fuck, these are tight,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders as his cockhead peeked over the waistband–angry red and glistening with residual slickness from Aria.

J caught me staring and smirked, hooking his thumbs into the waistband to stretch it away from his hips. The fabric snapped back with an audible twang against his tanned skin. “In fact, I’ve never even been able to do anal with Jasmine,” he admitted with a rueful chuckle, his thumb pressing against the prominent vein running along his underside. “Too thick for her tight little rosebud–she taps out after two fingers.” His fingers flexed unconsciously, remembering. “Your wife, though–” His grin turned feral as he glanced upstairs where Aria still slept. “–I’m betting that ass could swallow me like it was made for it. Maybe I’ll get a chance to try next time?”

The words hung between us like a dare, underscored by the faint rustle of fabric as his cock twitched against the straining cotton. I swallowed hard, my gaze flickering to his Instagram notification flashing on his phone screen–a DM from Jasmine with a heart emoji. My stomach knotted as I recognized the profile picture: Jasmine’s smile from last year’s Christmas party, back when I’d still fantasized about bending her over the copier.

J caught my stare and smirked, unlocking his phone with a tap. The screen bloomed with a nude–Jasmine’s porcelain thighs spread wide, her tiny fingers struggling to part pink folds already glistening with arousal. “She sends these when she wants attention,” he chuckled, zooming in on the delicate rosebud clenched tight between her cheeks–so unlike Aria’s gaping mess upstairs. My cock stiffened traitorously at the contrast.

“Hey, I know this might sound crazy–but I really like you guys. Maybe you and Aria could go out sometime with Jasmine and me?” J’s voice dropped an octave as he swiped to the next photo–Jasmine bent over a hotel bed, her petite frame dwarfed by the shadow of J’s massive erection pressing between her cheeks. “She doesn’t know I share these,” he admitted with a conspiratorial grin, his thumb brushing over the timestamp–last Tuesday, 3:17 AM, while I’d been tagging Aria in memes about dead bedrooms.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as J leaned closer, his sweat-and-sex scent overwhelming the coffee beans. “Think about it,” he murmured, tapping the screen where Jasmine’s tiny fingers strained to circle his girth. “Jasmine is pretty open-minded–I think she’d be up to watching me fuck your wife’s ass.” His biceps flexed as he pocketed the phone, the movement making his trapped cock jump against the fabric, now struggling to contain him.

Downstairs, the pipes groaned–Aria shifting in the shower upstairs. J’s gaze flicked toward the sound, his nostrils flaring as if he could still smell her on the steam. “You should see the way Jasmine’s pussy drips when she’s jealous,” he continued conversationally, adjusting himself with a rough tug that made my own soft dick twitch. “Last week I fingered her while telling her about fucking my ex, and she came so hard she blacked out.” His grin turned wicked. “Imagine what she’d do watching me split Aria open.”

The shower cut off abruptly. Silence pooled between us until J’s phone buzzed–another DM notification from Jasmine lighting up the screen with a preview: *”Baby, pls come over. I’m so wet thinking about…”* The rest vanished beneath his thumb as he swiped it away. “She’s insatiable,” he chuckled, though his eyes tracked my reaction like a predator. “I have to fuck her at least twice a day, or she gets… creative.”

My throat clicked when I swallowed. “Need a lift?” The offer tumbled out before I could weigh it–before I could process why my bare feet were already carrying me toward the foyer where my keys hung. J’s grin widened as he followed, his gait loose-hipped and confident, the fabric straining over his thighs with each step. Sunlight caught the fading love bites Aria had sucked into his neck last night–purpling blooms that matched the ones currently throbbing between my wife’s legs upstairs.

Then the floorboard creaked underfoot–a familiar groan of old wood–and suddenly I was hyperaware of my own nudity. My soft cock swung with each step, utterly dwarfed by J’s still-straining bulge. The morning chill pebbled my nipples, made my balls tighten uselessly against my thighs. Christ, when had I gotten so comfortable being naked in front of this man who’d rearranged my wife’s insides?

J’s phone buzzed again as we reached the staircase. He pulled it out, scrolling lazily with one thumb while the other hand adjusted himself through his pants–a quick, unconscious squeeze that made my mouth flood with saliva. “Ah, shit,” he chuckled, tilting the screen toward me. A photo of Jasmine’s pouty lips wrapped around a purple dildo filled the display, her tiny fingers gripping the base. *”It’s not enough…”* the caption read. “Guess I’ll need to break her in again later.”

The pipes groaned overhead–Aria turning the bathroom faucet. J’s nostrils flared as if catching her scent through the ceiling. “You ever seen your wife with another woman?” he asked suddenly, pocketing his phone. The question landed like a punch. My cock stiffened against all reason, bobbing obscenely as memories of Aria’s drunken college confession surfaced–how she’d kissed her roommate sophomore year, how wet she’d gotten…

J smirked at my traitorous erection. “Jasmine loves eating pussy,” he continued, leaning against the banister so his obscene bulge strained toward me. “Works her tongue like a fucking prodigy.” His thumb brushed the crotch seam absently, cotton darkening with precum. “Bet she’d make Aria scream louder than I did.”

Upstairs, a hair dryer whirred to life–Aria’s morning routine. My wife’s footsteps padded across the bedroom floor directly above us, each creak of floorboards syncing with the throbbing between my legs.

I grabbed the nearest clothes–my discarded dress shirt from last night, still reeking of sweat and Aria’s perfume–and shrugged it on without buttoning. The fabric clung to my damp skin, hanging open to expose my dad-body chest. J watched me dress with lazy amusement, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops to accentuate the tent in his pants.

“Forgot something,” J drawled, nodding toward my crotch where my soft cock twitched against my thigh. Heat flooded my cheeks as I snatched a pair of jeans I had forgotten to put away after doing laundry yesterday.

The denim scraped uncomfortably over my bare skin–no underwear to buffer the rough fabric–and I cursed under my breath when the zipper caught. J watched my fumbling with undisguised amusement, one eyebrow quirking as I struggled to contain my thickening erection. His own bulge strained against the fly of his pants, the heavy outline unmistakable even through the dark fabric.

“Be right back,” I muttered, mounting the stairs two at a time–half to escape his knowing gaze, half to catch Aria before she dressed. The bedroom door stood ajar, steam from the shower curling into the hallway alongside the citrusy tang of her shampoo. Through the gap, I glimpsed her reflection in the vanity mirror–nude except for the towel turbaned around her damp hair, her fingers tracing the tender skin between her thighs where J had split her open hours earlier. Her lips parted when she noticed me watching, a slow smirk curling the edges of her kiss-swollen mouth.

“I can still feel him,” she whispered, stretching one leg up onto the vanity chair to expose the glistening pinkness between her thighs–swollen folds still gaping slightly, the inner flesh visibly darker where J had stretched her beyond recognition. Her fingertip circled the puffy rim before plunging in effortlessly to the second knuckle. “Look how loose I am for you now,” she breathed, pumping her finger with obscene ease while her other hand pinched a nipple into a stiff peak.

The towel slipped from her hair as she leaned forward, damp strands clinging to her shoulders as she crooked her finger inside herself–the wet squelch louder than my pounding heartbeat. “Did he leave?” she asked, her voice dropping to a husky whisper while her fingertip brushed something deep that made her thighs tremble. Her free hand reached between my legs, her nails scraping lightly along my jeans. “Or is he still downstairs… waiting?”

The reminder of J’s presence sent an electric jolt through me–my cock straining against denim as I recalled his smirk, his casual dominance, the way he’d *fit* inside her where I never could. “I have to drive him,” I blurted, my throat tight around the words. “He’s going to see his girlfriend.”

Aria’s fingers stilled inside herself. “Girlfriend?” The word dripped with sudden, razor-sharp interest. She withdrew her glistening fingers slowly, examining the slick strands between them before meeting my gaze in the mirror. The predatory glint in her eyes was something I hadn’t seen since our honeymoon.

“She’s Chinese,” I added uselessly, watching Aria’s nostrils flare as she absorbed this detail. Her thighs pressed together unconsciously–an instinctive territorial reflex.

Aria rose from the vanity, tossing the towel onto our cum-soaked bed as she crossed the room toward me. The scent of her arousal mixed with J’s lingering musk, clinging to her skin despite the shower. “How old?” Her fingers hooked into the waistband of my jeans before I could answer, tugging the stiff denim down my hips in one practiced motion.

“Twenty-three.” My breath hitched as her nails skated down my inner thigh–the same path J’s fingertips had taken hours earlier when he’d spread Aria wide. Her grip tightened possessively around my crotch.

“And her name?” Aria purred, her thumb pressing against my trapped erection with just enough pressure to make my hips jerk. The bathroom still smelled of citrus-scented soap and J’s musky aftershave.

“Jasmine,” I admitted, watching her pupils dilate as her grip tightened reflexively. Recognition flickered across her face–she’d seen me liking Jasmine’s Instagram posts, had teased me about my “little office crush.”

“You don’t mean Jasmine from your office, do you?” Aria breathed, her fingers going slack with shock. My cock twitched traitorously against her palm at the way her voice caught–that sharp, jealous edge I hadn’t heard in years. Her nails dug crescents into my thighs as she processed the impossibility. “That tiny QA girl I saw you flirting with before? The one who wore those tight skirts?”

The shower dripped behind us–slow, rhythmic–like the pulse between Aria’s thighs when she’d straddled J last night. I watched her throat work as she swallowed hard, her tongue darting out to wet lips still swollen from his cock. “She quit last month,” I admitted, recalling Jasmine’s tearful goodbye by the elevators–how her perfume had lingered in the stairwell for days afterward. “She got a job doing graphic design work–”

“At that company where my friend works? Was she the one that you helped get the interview?” Aria interrupted, her fingers tightening around my wrist. Her nails dug in–not quite drawing blood, but leaving angry marks in my skin. The cool floor chilled my bare feet as I nodded, watching her face contort through a dozen emotions–shock, betrayal, arousal–before settling on something darker.

“Was last night with J a whole setup?” Aria’s grip turned vise-like, her breathing shallow. The scent of sex still clung to her, mixing with J’s musky aftershave embedded in her skin. My pulse hammered as her nails raked down my chest–not in passion, but accusation. “Did you plan this?” she hissed, her voice cracking like thin ice. “Bringing him here knowing–” Her gaze flicked to the bed where J’s cum still glistened on the sheets.

“No! I swear I didn’t know–I only found out just now downstairs when–” My protest died as Aria’s fingers dug into my hips, her wet cunt pressing hot against my thigh. The scent of J’s cum still leaked from her, mingling with her arousal as her breathing turned ragged. Her pupils dilated, lips parting–not in anger, but something far more dangerous.

“You’re lying,” she whispered, but her grip softened as she rubbed herself against my leg, the motion unconsciously desperate. “You’ve wanted this.” Her teeth grazed my collarbone, her tongue laving the sting as my jeans grew damp from her fluids. “All those times you asked me about threesomes, about watching me with someone else–” Her hips jerked as she ground against me, her swollen clit catching on my skin.

Footsteps of J creaked below us–deliberately loud, punctuated by the jingle of his belt buckle. The stairs groaned under his weight, each measured step ratcheting up the tension coiled in Aria’s body. She froze against me, her breath hitching as his shadow stretched across the bedroom doorway.

“Came to see what was taking you so long,” J drawled from the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His thumbs hooked lazily in his belt loops, drawing attention to the prominent bulge straining his pants. Aria’s breath hitched–her fingers still tangled in my hair, her wetness smeared across my thigh–as J’s gaze traveled down her naked body with predatory appreciation. “If I knew you were giving morning blowjobs, I would have been up here quicker,” he said jokingly, stepping forward until the heat radiating off his body made Aria tremble.

“Were you in on this whole thing?” Aria demanded, twisting toward J with her nails still buried in my arm. His smirk widened as he stepped fully into the bedroom, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He didn’t answer immediately–just raked his gaze over her slick thighs, the way her nipples stood taut in the morning chill.

“What thing?” J’s chuckle vibrated through the room as he leaned against the doorframe, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he crossed them. His gaze dropped pointedly to where Aria’s juices glistened on my thigh.

“About you! You and that–that *girl*!” Aria’s voice cracked as she jabbed a finger toward his phone peeking from his pocket. J’s grin turned wolfish as he pulled it out, swiping to Jasmine’s latest message–a photo of her kneeling in a lace teddy, the dildo from earlier now discarded beside her.

“She used to work with Scott! And he had the biggest crush on her,” Aria hissed, her thighs clamping around my leg as her fingers dug into my shoulders.

J looked at me, puzzled, then barked out a laugh that shook his entire frame. “Wait–you *know* Jasmine?” His fingers danced across his phone screen, pulling up her LinkedIn profile with its professional headshot–the same one that’d haunted my browser history for months. Aria let out a strangled sound when she recognized the photo.

“Small fucking world,” J murmured, stepping closer until his heat radiated against Aria’s bare back. His thumb swiped to Jasmine’s latest Instagram story–her perched on a hotel balcony in nothing but thigh-highs, the city skyline glittering behind her. The timestamp read 4 hours ago. “She never mentioned working with you,” J mused, his other hand settling possessively on Aria’s hip.

Aria’s breath hitched as J’s fingers traced the fading bite marks he’d left between her thighs last night. The scent of their sex still clung to her skin–musky and thick–when he leaned in to whisper against her damp hair: “Though she did say her old boss had a thing for her.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “Kept ‘accidentally’ brushing against her in the breakroom.”

“Look–honestly, last night was the first night I met either one of you,” J admitted, his calloused palms sliding up Aria’s waist as she trembled between us. His thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts, making her nipples tighten further.

Aria let out a ragged exhale, her fingers loosening their death grip on my shoulders as she twisted to face J fully–her back arching when his knuckles grazed her stiff peaks. “Prove it,” she challenged, her voice throaty as she reached for his belt buckle. The leather hissed through the loops as she yanked it free, her nails scraping the strained fabric beneath. “Show me your texts with her before last night.”

J chuckled darkly, his phone screen illuminating the pulse hammering in Aria’s throat as he swiped to his messages with Jasmine. Dates scrolled past–weeks of filthy exchanges and photos that made my cheeks burn. Aria’s breath hitched when he paused on a video from two months ago: Jasmine riding a thick dildo while whimpering J’s name, her tiny hands struggling to span its girth.

“Oh god,” Aria whispered, her fingers unconsciously tracing the same stretch marks J had left between her thighs. The video continued–Jasmine’s tight little body bouncing frantically, her pussy lips clinging obscenely to the toy’s base with each thrust. Aria’s hips jerked when Jasmine came with a shattered cry, her orgasm visibly rippling through her petite frame.

J’s lips brushed Aria’s shoulder as he murmured, “She reminds me of you.” His fingers tightened on Aria’s waist, pulling her back against his erection. “Same filthy sounds.” His teeth scraped her neck. “Same desperate little cunt.” Aria shuddered, her thighs pressing together as fresh arousal slicked her inner thighs.

“But she can’t fit my whole cock in her,” J continued, his chuckle vibrating against Aria’s damp skin. His thick fingers traced the swollen puffiness between her thighs–the stretched flesh still tender from last night’s abuse. “Not like you can.” He pressed deeper, his fingertip sliding effortlessly into her loosened entrance. Aria gasped, her hips jerking forward–her body responding despite the lingering soreness.

The realization hit her slowly–J’s words weren’t just dirty talk. Jasmine couldn’t take him fully. Couldn’t *handle* him the way Aria had. A thrum of smug satisfaction settled low in her belly, hotter than any jealousy. Her fingers tightened on J’s wrist, guiding his exploring digits deeper into her ruined cunt.

“Show me,” Aria demanded, twisting in my arms to face J fully–her flushed chest heaving, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Her fingers made quick work of his belt buckle, the leather slithering free with a hiss that made my cock twitch. J’s smirk widened as she clawed at his pants, her nails scraping the fabric stretched taut over his thickening bulge.

His pants hit the floor with a heavy thud, J’s cock springing free–already half-hard and glistening at the tip with fresh arousal. Aria’s breath caught at the sight, her fingers hovering just shy of touching the vein-thickened length that had wrecked her hours earlier. J’s chuckle was a dark rumble as he guided her hand downward, forcing her to wrap trembling fingers around his girth. “Go on,” he taunted, his thumb brushing over her knuckles where they strained to meet around him.

Aria’s lips parted instinctively, her tongue darting out to wet them as she sank to her knees–the same motion she’d made a thousand times for me, but never with this hungry hesitation. J’s fingers tangled in her damp hair, not guiding, just *claiming*, as she leaned forward to swirl her tongue around his swollen head. The taste of him–musky and salt-sharp–flooded her mouth as she took the first inch between her lips, her jaw already stretching wider than she’d ever needed to for me.

On the floor, J’s phone buzzed against the hardwood–Jasmine’s latest message lighting up the screen with a photo of her spread across silk sheets, her tiny fingers barely spanning her own arousal-slicked slit. Aria moaned around J’s cock at the sight, the vibrations making his hips jerk forward abruptly. Her gag reflex fired as he breached halfway down her throat, tears welling instantly as her nose pressed into his coarse pubic hair.

J didn’t let her pull back. His grip tightened in her hair, holding her still as he began shallow thrusts that painted her tongue with thick precum. “Look at her,” he growled, nudging the phone closer with his foot until Jasmine’s glistening pussy filled Aria’s blurred vision. “See how tight she is? How she *struggles*?” Each word coincided with a sharp snap of his hips, stretching her lips wider. “Not like you.”

Aria’s muffled sob vibrated around him as J twisted a fistful of her hair, forcing her to watch Jasmine’s dainty fingers circle her own clit–the stark contrast to Aria’s gaping, spit-slicked mouth impossible to ignore. His cockhead bulged obscenely in her throat when he suddenly pulled out, dragging a string of saliva that connected them momentarily before snapping onto her chin.

“You find her attractive, don’t you, Aria?” J taunted, dragging his glistening tip across her swollen lips. Her heavy-lidded gaze flicked between Jasmine’s photo and his monstrous erection, pupils blown wide with reluctant arousal. A whimper escaped her when he tapped his cock against her tongue like a fucking metronome–*tap-tap-tap*–each contact smearing more precum across her taste buds.

J’s fingers tightened in her hair, yanking her head back until her throat stretched taut. “Would you like her to watch you take my whole length?” His graveled voice dripped with dark promise as he angled his phone toward her face–Jasmine’s startled expression frozen mid-moan in a fresh selfie. “See how a *real* woman handles me?” Aria’s breath hitched, her cunt pulsing around nothing as J traced the outline of her stretched lips with his cockhead. “Or should I call her right now? Let her hear you choking on what she can’t handle?”

J’s sudden thrust swallowed Aria’s response–her throat bulging obscenely as he sheathed himself to the root in one brutal motion. Tears spilled freely down her flushed cheeks when he withdrew just enough to let her gasp, “P-please,” before slamming back in, the wet *glrk* of her gag reflex echoing off the bathroom tiles.

J’s fingers tightened in her hair, forcing her to maintain eye contact with Jasmine’s frozen smirk on the phone screen as he began a relentless rhythm–each withdrawal leaving her lips stretched wide and glossy before stuffing her throat full again. “She’s watching,” J lied smoothly, angling the device so Jasmine’s thumbnail image seemed to stare directly at Aria’s debasement. His free hand groped her dangling breast, pinching the stiff nipple hard enough to make her squeal around his cock.

Precum dribbled down Aria’s chin in thick strands, mixing with her tears and saliva as his thrusts grew more erratic. The sounds were obscene–wet smacks of flesh, choked gags, J’s low grunts vibrating through her skull. Her fingers scrabbled against his thighs, not pushing away but clinging, her body betraying her even as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks.

J’s hips stuttered without warning. His cock swelled impossibly thicker, veins standing in stark relief as he buried himself to the hilt with a guttural roar. Hot ropes of cum flooded her throat in violent pulses–how did he still have this much after last night? Aria’s eyes rolled back as she swallowed frantically, her gag reflex firing with each new spurt. Still, J held her impaled, his sac tightening against her chin as he emptied himself down her convulsing esophagus.

When he finally pulled free with a slick pop, Aria gasped like a drowning woman breaching the surface. Thick strands of semen stretched between her lips and his glistening cockhead before snapping onto her trembling tongue. J tilted the phone screen closer, forcing her to watch Jasmine’s frozen smirk through the haze of her tears. “She saw everything,” he lied, thumb brushing the smear of cum on Aria’s bottom lip. “Knows exactly how much better you take it.”

Her breath hitched–not in protest, but something darker–as J hauled her upright by her hair. The scent of their sex clung to her skin, mingling with musk and salt as she swayed against him. My fingers traced the angry red marks his grip had left on her scalp, tracing the damp trails where her arousal had dripped down her inner thighs. “Would you like that?” I murmured against the shell of her ear, feeling her pulse jump beneath my lips. “All of us?”

Aria’s eyes locked onto Jasmine’s photo–the puckered pinkness between her thighs, the delicate fingers barely parting her labia–and something primal tightened her jaw. She twisted suddenly, pressing her back against J’s chest while keeping her gaze fixed on me. “Make her watch,” she whispered, her voice shredded from abuse.

Her fingers found me with unerring precision–hot palm wrapping around my aching cock before I could react. Precum slicked her grip as she worked my modest length in rough strokes, her thumb smearing glistening wetness across the head. “Oh god,” she moaned, watching Jasmine’s frozen expression while her fingers tightened around me. The contrast was obscene–J’s monstrous girth still glistening with her saliva inches from her face while she jerked my painfully hard four inches.

J caught her wrist mid-stroke, his chuckle vibrating through her shoulder blades. “No more touching,” he growled into her damp hair, yanking her hand away with a wet *pop*. My cock twitched pathetically at the loss of contact, bobbing against my stomach. Aria whimpered–half-protest, half-relief–as J dragged her back against his chest. His phone screen reflected in the bathroom mirror, Jasmine’s pouty lips frozen mid-moan. “Drive him back to her,” Aria gasped, twisting suddenly to seize my face between sticky fingers. “I can’t wait to meet her”.

The air left my lungs as she crushed her lips to mine–her tongue pushing inside, thick with J’s taste. I hurriedly pulled up my jeans with one hand while she devoured my mouth, her nails raking down my bare chest. When she finally pulled back, her lipstick was smeared across both our chins, her breath coming in ragged bursts. “Hurry,” she whispered against my lips, then turned to J with a predator’s grin.

“The next time I see you, your girlfriend will be watching me take this cock better than she ever could,” Aria purred against J’s throat, her fingers gripping J’s still-hard length with unmistakable possession. My chest tightened as I watched her thumb smear his precum across his swollen head–the same way she’d once absentmindedly played with my wedding ring during dull dinner parties.

J chuckled darkly, palming Aria’s ass with one hand while reaching for his pants with the other. “Don’t get too comfortable, princess,” he murmured, deliberately stepping into his pants without cleaning himself first, the fabric straining obscenely around his semi-hard cock. The wet spot would grow. I would smell him on the drive. My fingers trembled as I buttoned my shirt wrong twice, the cotton clinging to sweat-slick skin.

The leather seats groaned under J’s weight as he slid into the passenger side–far too close, his knees splaying wide enough for his thigh to press against the gearshift. “Relax, Scott,” he said, stretching his muscular arms behind his head with a yawn that flexed his biceps. The scent of Aria and sex rolled off him in waves as he leaned toward the AC vents. “I’m thinking Jasmine might enjoy your… enthusiasm.” His smirk was all teeth as he tapped out a text one-handed, the phone lighting up with her latest reply: a pouting selfie captioned *still waiting*.

I gripped the wheel until my knuckles ached, the memory of Aria’s nails digging into my shoulders as she came on J’s tongue flashing behind my eyelids. “She’ll recognize me,” I said hoarsely, merging onto the freeway–the same route I’d driven daily to the office where Jasmine once sat two cubicles down, her pencil skirts riding up when she crossed her legs.

“We’ll just tell the truth–we met at the restaurant while you and Aria were celebrating your anniversary,” J said smoothly, his thumbs tapping against his phone screen. The scent of Aria’s arousal still clung to his fingers when he scratched his stubble. “No need to mention how many times your wife screamed my name into the mattress last night.”

The elevator dinged–too loud–announcing our arrival on Jasmine’s floor. My pulse hammered as J strode ahead, his pants straining obscenely with every step. The overhead lighting caught the damp patch on his crotch where Aria’s saliva still glistened.

Jasmine opened the door wearing pink boy short panties and a tight white t-shirt–the fabric sheer enough to show the peaked outline of her nipples. Her muscled thighs flexed as she leaned against the doorframe, one hand resting casually on her hip where the stretchy fabric hugged the curve of her ass. “Took you long enough,” she teased, her gaze flicking past J to where I stood frozen in the hallway. Her lips parted slightly–

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” J interrupted, stepping forward to cage Jasmine against the doorjamb with his body. His knuckles grazed her inner thigh while his other hand reached back blindly to grip my wrist. He tugged me forward until Jasmine’s startled exhale ghosted across my lips–orange blossom toothpaste and something sweeter underneath.

Her fingers fluttered against my chest when J pulled away, leaving us facing each other in the threshold. A blush crept up her throat as she recognized me–the same one that used to stain her cheeks when she’d “accidentally” brush past me in the breakroom. “Scott?” Jasmine breathed, her crescent-moon eyes widening. The pulse in her neck jumped when her gaze dropped to my lips. “I didn’t know you were–”

J’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, his thumb digging into the same spot Aria had bitten raw last night. “Surprise,” he rumbled, leaning over us both to nip at Jasmine’s earlobe. “Scott and his wife were having dinner at the restaurant–they were almost halfway through dinner when we figured out you and Scott used to work together.” His palm slid down my spine, pressing me forward until my thigh brushed against Jasmine’s bare leg. The heat radiating from her skin sent a jolt through my groin.

Jasmine’s fingers tightened around the doorframe, her knuckles whitening as J’s other hand traced the waistband of her panties. “We had drinks afterward,” he continued, his breath hot against her neck. “Got too wasted to make it home.” His chuckle vibrated through my chest where we touched. “Aria insisted I crash at their place.” The lie dripped with plausible details–the kind of half-truth that made Jasmine’s brow furrow even as her nipples stiffened visibly beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.

I watched realization dawn in Jasmine’s dark eyes–the flicker of recognition when she connected last night’s unexplained absence with my sudden appearance. J’s fingers dug into my shoulder, urging me forward until the heat of Jasmine’s body seared through my pants. “Aria wanted to meet you,” I blurted, the words tasting like betrayal even as my cock twitched at the thought. “She… remembers you from the office Christmas parties.”

“Oh my god! Yes!” Jasmine blurted out suddenly, her hands flying to her mouth as she bounced on her toes–the motion making her tight cotton panties ride up against the crease of her thighs. “That graphic design position! The one your wife’s friend recommended me for last year!” Her excitement overrode her usual shyness as she launched herself at me, her bare arms locking around my neck with enough force to make me stagger back a step.

The sudden press of her warm body against mine–the way her pert nipples dragged against my shirt through the thin fabric–froze me in place. Jasmine’s floral shampoo flooded my senses as she squeezed tighter, her thigh accidentally brushing against my half-hard cock. She gasped when she felt it, her body stiffening mid-hug as realization dawned.

“Oh shit–” Jasmine squeaked, scrambling backward so fast her hair whipped across my face. Her hands flew to cover herself, then awkwardly hovered between us like she couldn’t decide whether modesty or hospitality mattered more. The hem of her shirt had ridden up during the hug, revealing the lacy edge of pink panties stretched taut over her round hips. “I completely forgot I wasn’t dressed!” Her nervous laugh cracked as she crossed her arms over her chest, inadvertently pushing her cleavage higher.

J rolled his eyes and stepped past me, grabbing Jasmine’s wrist mid-flail. “You were expecting just me,” he stated more than asked, dragging her back against his chest with a proprietary squeeze to her waist. The damp spot on his pants left a darker imprint on her shirt where their hips met. Jasmine swallowed hard, her gaze darting between us–did she notice the tent in my jeans?

She twisted free with a nervous laugh, scampering backward toward her bedroom. “Two seconds!” she called over her shoulder, already yanking open drawers. Through the half-open door, I caught flashes of toned calves flexing as she stepped into black Lululemons–the kind with the strategic mesh cutouts that framed the curve of every muscle. The fabric clung like a second skin as she shimmied them up over pink lace, the high waistband cinching just below her navel to accentuate the dip of her hips.

She looked even sexier than she had in my late-night fantasies–the ones that started after catching her bent over the copier in a pencil skirt, and ended with me imagining her spread across my desk. The outfit should’ve been casual, but the way it hugged every curve made it feel far more dangerous.

“I thought it was just going to be you–” Jasmine whispered to J as she playfully whacked his muscular arm, her cheeks flushing darker when she noticed me watching the interaction.

As Jasmine unconsciously started to clean up some discarded clothes, she said, “I’d love to meet Aria–” My jaw fell open as Jasmine innocently bent over in front of me to grab a bunched-up sock that rolled under the sofa, her Lululemons stretching taut over the perfect globes of her ass–the black fabric turning translucent. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk at the Christmas party–” Jasmine continued as she straightened up.

Our eyes locked when she turned her head–mid-sentence–and saw me openly staring at her ass. Instead of recoiling, she smiled–a slow, knowing curve of lips that sent heat flooding to my groin. J’s chuckle rumbled behind me as Jasmine deliberately swayed her hips while walking toward the kitchen, throwing me a coy glance over her shoulder. “Unless…” she trailed off, biting her lower lip in a way that made my pulse stutter.

The refrigerator door blocked my view for three agonizing seconds before she emerged with three sweating beers–her fingers deliberately brushing mine as she passed them out. The condensation dripped onto her shirt, making the fabric cling to her stomach in transparent patches. Jasmine perched on the armrest beside J, her bare foot swinging until her toes accidentally-*accidentally?*–grazed my thigh.

“So,” she said, popping the cap off with a practiced twist, “what exactly happened last night?” Her tongue darted out to catch the foam bubbling over the rim, eyes flicking between J’s smirk and my white-knuckled grip on the bottle.

J stretched his arms along the couch back, deliberately flexing his biceps until the fabric of his shirt strained. “Remember that shit I told you about my ex last week?” His grin widened when Jasmine stiffened–her toes freezing mid-swing against my thigh.

“Wait…” Her beer bottle hovered halfway to her lips as realization dawned. “The one where you–” Her gaze darted to my face, then away just as quickly.

She didn’t have to finish her sentence. From what J previously told me, I knew Jasmine was thinking about how J’s ex could take his whole, thick 8 inches in her pussy–something Jasmine still couldn’t manage after months of trying. The way her grip tightened around the beer bottle told me everything.

Her silence betrayed her thoughts of how she came on J’s fingers last week while he had described in intricate detail to her how he’d ruined his ex for other men–stretching her beyond what Jasmine could handle. The condensation dripped onto her thigh when she leaned forward, her breath unsteady as she murmured, “I don’t understand what that has to do with–”

J’s palm clamped possessively around her knee, fingers digging into the tender hollow behind it. “Aria,” he interrupted smoothly, “takes me better than my ex ever did.” Jasmine’s lips parted–whether in protest or anticipation, I couldn’t tell–but the way her thighs subtly pressed together was unmistakable.

The air between us thickened with the scent of hops and something muskier as J leaned in, his thumb tracing slow circles on Jasmine’s inner thigh. “Wouldn’t it be great if we all got together sometime?” he murmured. A bead of sweat traced the delicate dip above Jasmine’s collarbone when his fingers crept higher, bunching the tight fabric of her leggings.

Jasmine snorted, her glossy lips quirking at the corners. “Yeah, *right*,” she said, rolling her eyes as she playfully smacked J’s bicep–her palm bouncing off the hard muscle with a sharp *thwack*. The sound echoed louder than she’d intended, and her fingers lingered a beat too long, her nails scraping lightly through the thin fabric of his shirt.

J chuckled darkly, tilting his beer bottle toward me in a lazy toast. “Just testing the waters,” he murmured, his smirk sharpening when Jasmine’s thigh twitched under his grip. A flush crept up her neck, staining the delicate skin beneath her jaw as she glanced at me–then quickly away, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

The silence stretched taut between us, punctuated only by the hum of the refrigerator. Jasmine cleared her throat abruptly, her fingers tightening around her beer bottle until the glass squeaked. “Speaking of Aria–” Her voice hitched, too loud in the quiet apartment. “I really should thank her properly for the job lead.” She forced a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with exaggerated nonchalance. “Maybe over dinner?”

J’s fingers stilled on her thigh. Jasmine’s breath hitched–a tiny, guilty sound–as she stared stubbornly at the condensation pooling on the coffee table. “I’ve been practicing,” she mumbled, tracing a wet circle with her fingertip. “Made pad thai last week that didn’t completely suck.” The admission hung between us, suffocatingly mundane amidst the tension.

“Aria loves pad thai,” I said without thinking, my gaze dropping to where J’s fingers kneaded Jasmine’s thigh. Her leggings stretched thinner with each slow circle his thumb made–translucent enough to reveal the skin beneath. The air conditioning kicked on, ruffling Jasmine’s hair as she took a shaky sip of beer.

Jasmine’s knees pressed together reflexively when J’s hand slid higher–her leggings riding up to expose a strip of bare skin above her ankle. “How about Friday?” she blurted, her voice cracking mid-syllable. The bottle trembled in her grip, leaving wet fingerprints on her thigh. “That’ll give me enough time to get all the ingredients.”

“I’ve got a shift that evening–” J mentions as he brushes a stray strand of hair off of Jasmine’s face, “–probably won’t be home ’til 9–”

“That’s fine–” Jasmine interrupts, “You can come afterwards.” She says with an almost imperceivable smile that J picks up on. “That will give me plenty of time to catch up with Aria and Scott.”

Her gaze flickers to me–brief but sharp–before she takes another sip of beer, her throat working as she swallows. The stretchy fabric of her leggings pulls tighter across her thighs when she shifts, her pinky finger tapping an erratic rhythm against the wet glass bottle. J’s smirk deepens when her knee bounces restlessly under his touch–the same nervous habit she used to have during staff meetings.

“That sounds great!” I say a bit too enthusiastically, my voice cracking on the second word. The beer bottle slips in my sweaty palm as I stand abruptly, sending condensation dripping down my thigh–mimicking the damp patches now visible on Jasmine’s leggings where J’s fingers had been moments ago. “I should probably head back now and let you get back to what you were doing.”

Jasmine’s dark eyes flicker with something unreadable as she rises to walk me to the door–her hips swaying slightly more than necessary with each step. The hallway seems to stretch endlessly between us, filled only with the sound of her bare feet padding against hardwood and J’s heavier footsteps behind her.

Just as I reach for the doorknob, Jasmine’s fingers curl around my wrist–her nails pressing delicately into my skin–and tugs me back toward her. Before I can react, she presses a featherlight kiss to my cheekbone, lingering just long enough for me to catch the sweetness of her peach lip balm. Her breath hitches almost imperceptibly against my stubble. “See you Friday, Scott,” she murmurs, her lips brushing my ear as she pulls away–the warmth of her mouth leaving a phantom imprint.

As her door closes behind me, I find myself lingering at the doorway, wondering if this was all real. Then I heard it– the unmistakable sound of knees falling to the hardwood floor from behind the door, followed by J’s deep chuckle. My fingers twitched with the phantom sensation of Jasmine’s lips–still tingling from her breath–as muffled whispers slipped through the thin apartment walls.

Then came the *zip*. Slow, deliberate, the metallic teeth parting like a confession. My pulse hammered in my throat as Jasmine’s gasp followed–sharp enough to pierce through the door. “You’re *filthy*,” she breathed, her voice thick with something between shock and hunger. I pressed my palm flat against the wood, imagining J’s smirk as he undoubtedly guided her hand toward his already-hard cock–just like he’d done with Aria last night.

“Filthy?” J chuckled, “Does that mean you don’t want to taste where my cock’s been last night?

I heard Jasmine choke–half-laugh, half-gasp–before a wet, obscene sound answered. My fist clenched as I imagined her lips stretching around J’s thickness, the same way Aria’s had last night. The wall muffled details, but I caught the rhythmic creak of floorboards–her knees readjusting–and J’s low groan.

“I–I can taste her pussy on you,” Jasmine gasped between wet, gagging noises–the unmistakable sound of her throat struggling around J’s girth. The wall trembled slightly as someone’s palm slapped against it for balance. “Oh god, she *flavors* you… Fuck, that’s so–*mmph!*” Her protest dissolved into choked moans as J undoubtedly thrust deeper, her lips smearing spit and precum against his shaft with every bob of her head.

A floorboard creaked behind me–too close–, and my spine stiffened just as the neighbor’s door groaned open. I quickly made my way to the elevator, pretending like nothing was wrong, but my ears were still trained on Jasmine’s apartment. The heavy footsteps of J, undoubtedly carrying Jasmine to the bedroom, her breathless giggles interrupted by a playful shriek.

The elevator ride down was unbearable–the agonizingly slow descent amplifying every throb of my trapped erection.

My grip tightened around the steering wheel as I sped home, the vibrations of the engine mimicking the rhythm of Jasmine’s throat working J’s cock–or at least, the way I imagined it would. My knuckles whitened against the leather as I hit every red light, each stop forcing my thighs to squeeze tighter around the persistent ache in my jeans.

The scent of Aria’s shampoo still clung to my shirt when I stumbled through our front door, mingling with the musk of sex that lingered from last night. The hallway mirror caught my reflection–hair disheveled, pupils blown, lips slightly parted–, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if this was how J had looked watching me lick Aria clean while he fucked her face.

Aria had cleaned up the mess in the house — meticulously. The hardwood floors gleamed where J’s cum had pooled last night, the throw pillows fluffed back into perfect symmetry on the sofa where Aria had screamed into his shoulder during her third orgasm. Even the coffee table had been polished to a high shine, erasing the sticky fingerprints from when J pinned her over it at dawn. Only the faintest hint of bleach lingered beneath the citrus air freshener she’d spritzed recklessly in every corner.

As I headed upstairs, I noticed the clean bed sheets–crisp Egyptian cotton stretched taut over the mattress where we’d all collapsed in a sweaty tangle hours earlier.

But lying on my pillow was my giant penis extension–the thick silicone sleeve we saved for special occasions, positioned carefully atop my pillowcase–not tucked away in the nightstand drawer where it belonged–its veined girth mocking me in the afternoon sunlight. The message was unmistakable: *This is what satisfies me now.*

The dryer buzzed downstairs just as my fingers brushed the cold silicone. Aria’s footsteps padded up the stairs moments later, her arms straining under the weight of fresh linens. She froze in the doorway when she saw me hovering over the sleeve, her cheeks flushing pink beneath the remnants of last night’s smudged mascara.

“I, uh–” Her throat worked around the words, gaze flicking to the pillow where J’s bite marks still darkened her shoulder. “I think J’s is bigger…” Her voice trailed off, fingers tightening around the folded sheets until her knuckles whitened.

The sleeve gleamed obscenely between us–veined and throbbing-proportioned–its silicone sheen catching the light exactly where J’s precum had pooled on the sheets last night. Aria’s breath hitched when I lifted it, her pupils dilating as the weight stretched my grip–just slightly smaller than J’s actual girth.

“Guess I’ll need to find a bigger one,” I murmured, watching Aria’s lips part at the casual admission. The sleeve swung heavily in my grip–its exaggerated veins casting shadows across the bedspread where J had pinned her last night. Aria’s throat worked silently as I traced the bulbous head with my thumb, mimicking the way J had tapped it against her clit before splitting her open.

Her fingers twitched toward the nightstand drawer where we kept our rarely-used toys. “Maybe… *black* this time?” The suggestion slipped out breathlessly–her eyes darting to mine as if testing waters.

I froze mid-reach, the silicone sleeve suddenly heavy in my grip. We’d consumed endless interracial porn over the years–her thighs squeezing my hips whenever the camera lingered on thick, dark shafts stretching pale actresses–but we’d never once acknowledged the unspoken preference. The oversized sleeve in my hand now felt like a pale imitation of every BBC fantasy we’d silently indulged.

Another fantasy to stoke my dreams tonight, I thought to myself. As Aria embraced me, I pressed my lips to hers. Despite her freshly showered scent, I could still taste J lingering beneath the citrus shampoo–that musky, masculine aftertaste clinging to the back of her throat. She pulled away first, her teeth catching my lower lip with sudden possessiveness.

“Jasmine invited us for dinner on Friday,” I murmured against her mouth, watching her pupils dilate as realization dawned. Aria’s breath hitched–her fingers tightening in my shirt–and for a dizzying moment, I wondered if she’d taste the ghost of Jasmine’s peach lip balm on my cheek where the kiss had landed. Instead, she traced my jawline with her thumb, her nail scraping lightly over stubble still damp from Jasmine’s exhale.

“J’s coming?” Aria’s voice cracked–not with hesitation, but hunger. Her fingers twitched against my chest, nails catching fabric as she inhaled sharply through her nose. Somewhere beneath her floral perfume, the scent of J’s cologne still clung to her skin like a brand.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’ll be *coming*,” I murmured, letting my hand drift down to squeeze the silicone sleeve still dangling between us. Aria’s breath hitched when my thumb pressed into the veined ridges–a near replica of J’s girth except for the missing heat, the absence of that musky scent that had soaked our sheets last night. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips unconsciously, her pupils swallowing the hazel of her irises.

“Scott,” she whispered, her fingers curling into my shirt. The fabric strained against her grip as she rocked forward onto her toes–that same helpless motion she’d made when J first bottomed out inside her. “Do you… want to reclaim me?” The question hung between us, raw and trembling, her teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to blanch the flesh.

I nodded and started to take off my clothes–slowly, deliberately–letting each button slip free with agonizing precision. Aria’s breath hitched as my belt clinked to the floor, her pupils dilating when I toed off my shoes with deliberate slowness. The afternoon sunlight caught the sweat beading along her collarbones as I finally peeled away my boxers, leaving them pooled around my ankles like a surrender flag.

Her gaze dropped instantly–unconsciously–to where my modest erection jutted against my stomach. A muscle twitched in her jaw as her eyes flicked between me and the silicone sleeve still dangling from my grip, the comparison unavoidable. My cock strained pathetically upward, the pink tip barely bigger than her hand, while the sleeve’s veined girth swung heavily between us–a pale imitation of J’s monstrous thickness that had stretched her to sobbing last night. “You’re gonna need this,” she whispered with devastating gentleness, plucking the sleeve from my fingers.

“In fact, I think we should name this one… *J*,” Aria murmured, running her tongue along the sleeve’s ridged underside with theatrical consideration. The silicone glistened under her ministrations, catching the light just like J’s precum had last night. My cock twitched pathetically as she arched over the bed–the exact pose she’d taken when he’d first entered her–her hips canting backward in unconscious mimicry.

“How about it, J?” Aria whispered to the sleeve, her fingers tracing the exaggerated veins with practiced familiarity. She glanced over her shoulder–eyes dark with challenge–as she slowly rolled onto her back, thighs spreading to reveal the swollen pinkness still puffy from last night’s abuse. My breath caught when she positioned the sleeve’s tip at her entrance, her hips lifting in that same desperate arch J had drawn from her.

I rolled the sleeve on with shaking hands, the silicone clinging to my skin like a second layer–too tight, too thick, nothing like the effortless way Aria had taken J bare. The lube made obscene squelching sounds as I worked it down my shaft, each ridge stretching my flesh uncomfortably until the bulbous head jutted obscenely from my hips. Aria’s breath hitched when it bobbed toward her–her lips parting reflexively–before she caught herself and schooled her expression into something approximating patience.

Her pussy, though swollen, had finally closed the gape–that mesmerizing stretched-wide O that had lingered for hours after J pulled out last night. Now the delicate petals fluttered nervously as she guided the silicone head to her entrance, her fingers trembling where they braced against her inner thighs. I watched, transfixed, as the first inch disappeared into her–her body resisting the intrusion despite last night’s thorough stretching–her cunt clenching visibly around the veined shaft.

“Oh, J!” Aria’s moan ripped through the bedroom–too loud, too eager–her nails dragging down my thighs as the sleeve’s bulbous head stretched her entrance wide. Her hips bucked instinctively, trying to take more, but her body resisted despite last night’s brutal stretching. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she gasped, “Fuck, it’s still so *big*,” her cunt clenching visibly around the veined silicone.

“Bigger than your husband?” I growled, thrusting deeper–the sleeve’s thickness dragging against her sensitive walls with a wet squelch that echoed through our bedroom. Aria’s back arched off the mattress, her thighs clamping around my hips as she whimpered, “Y-yes,” her fingers scrambling for purchase on the sheets.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmured, watching her pussy swallow the sleeve inch by inch, the silicone veins catching on her clenching walls. Aria’s hips jerked erratically, her body caught between instinctive resistance and desperate need–just like last night when J had pinned her wrists and forced the previous brutal inch inside. The sleeve’s ridges scraped against her swollen flesh, dragging moans from her throat that were sharper, higher than any sounds I’d ever drawn from her before.

“Take the whole thing,” I ordered, gripping her hips with bruising force as I shoved forward–watching her body struggle to accommodate inches that had slid effortlessly into her last night. Aria screamed, her thighs clamping around my waist as the sleeve’s ridge pressed against her deepest spot, her cunt fluttering wildly around the intrusion. Tears streaked her cheeks when I withdrew slowly, the silicone dragging against her swollen walls with a wet squelch that made her whimper.

“Do you want my girlfriend to watch as you take all 8 inches?” Aria’s hips jerked at the whispered question–her cunt spasming around the sleeve still embedded to the hilt inside her. Through hooded eyes, I watched her teeth sink into her lower lip as she nodded frantically, her fingers clawing at the sheets in anticipation.

“That’s right–you want Jasmine and your husband to watch me fuck you senseless,” I murmured, rolling my hips and driving the sleeve deeper into Aria’s slick heat. Her breath came in ragged hitches as she clawed at the sheets, her thighs trembling against my sides. The silicone ridges scraped against her swollen walls with each thrust, forcing choked whimpers past her lips.

“Maybe we’ll even let your husband fuck Jasmine’s tight little asshole with his tiny dick while he watches me plunge my horse cock into you,” I continued, rolling my hips with deliberate slowness–each thrust making the lube squelch obscenely between us. Aria’s thighs quivered as she nodded frantically, her fingers twisting in the sheets like she was already imagining Jasmine’s porcelain skin stretched around my girth.

Her pussy fluttered around the sleeve–too loose, too eager–the wet sounds of our joining filling the room alongside her ragged breaths. I dragged the silicone ridges against her walls ruthlessly, mimicking J’s brutal pace from last night, watching her body betray her with every shuddering response. When I reached down to pinch her clit–too rough–she arched with a shattered cry, her cunt squeezing rhythmically around the sleeve in helpless little pulses that betrayed her arousal.

“You like that, don’t you?” I growled, twisting the sleeve inside her until her thighs trembled. “The thought of Jasmine’s tight little asshole gripping your husband’s cock while they both watch?” Aria’s nod came violently fast, her teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to leave marks. “Then tell him,” I demanded, pulling almost all the way out–her swollen pussy lips clinging obscenely to the veined silicone–before slamming back in with a wet slap. “Tell your pathetic husband exactly what you want him to do to her.”

Aria’s breath hitched–eyes glazed with pleasure–before her voice broke into a ragged moan. “I want… want you to make Scott fuck her ass while he watches you wreck me.” The admission shattered into a scream as I pistoned into her ruthlessly, the sleeve’s bulbous head dragging against her g-spot with each thrust. Her thighs clamped around my waist instinctively, trying to force me deeper even as tears streaked her flushed cheeks.

“Not me–tell him what you want him to do to Jasmine,” I growled, twisting the sleeve viciously inside her until she sobbed. Aria arched wildly, her thighs shaking as another orgasm rippled through her oversensitized cunt. Her nails raked down my chest when I withdrew completely–her slick walls audibly clenching around nothing–and dragged the sleeve’s glistening tip up her inner thigh in a slow, taunting trail. “Tell your husband how you want him to stretch Jasmine’s tight asshole open.”

“F-fuck her, Scott!” Aria gasped, her thighs trembling as she spread them wider, fingers digging into her own flesh. “Make Jasmine scream on your–your little cock while J *ruins* me.” Her voice cracked on the last word, eyes rolling back as I dragged the silicone sleeve’s swollen head back to her dripping entrance. The tip caught on her swollen folds, stretching them obscenely wide before plunging back inside with a wet squelch that sent her spine arching off the mattress.

Aria’s pussy clenched my sleeve as she came–violent, rhythmic spasms that milked the silicone ridges with desperate hunger. Her walls fluttered around the thick shaft in erratic pulses, each contraction squeezing a fresh gush of slickness that soaked my thighs. “Ohgod*ohgod*–” Her chant dissolved into wordless keening as I twisted the sleeve deeper, grinding the bulbous head against that spongy spot inside her that made her toes curl.

It was a good thing I’d already come once today. That and the sleeve’s numbing thickness muted sensation just enough to keep me from exploding instantly. Even still, the sight of Aria’s swollen pink folds stretching obscenely around the veined silicone sent jolts of pleasure down my spine, my neglected cock twitching pathetically inside the fake cock.

Aria’s thighs trembled as she finally went slack against the sweat-slick sheets, her breathing ragged. The sleeve glistened obscenely between us, still buried to the hilt inside her. For a long moment, she simply stared up at me through half-lidded eyes–the hazel nearly swallowed by black pupils–before her fingers curled around the silicone base. With a wet squelch that made us both shudder, she pulled it free from my softening cock, tossing the sleeve aside where it landed with a heavy thud against the nightstand.

“Now,” she whispered hoarsely, pushing herself up on shaking elbows. Her fingers traced the angry red marks the sleeve had left around my base, her touch feather-light. “I want to feel the real you.” Her voice cracked on the last word–not with pity, but with a rawness that startled me. The way her thighs squeezed together reflexively betrayed her exhaustion, but her fingers wrapped around me with surprising urgency, her thumb brushing over my exposed tip.

I slipped in easily–not as effortlessly as last night when J had left her gaping–, but she was still loose enough that my modest length slid home with minimal resistance. Still, I could tell she was squeezing her kegels deliberately tight around me, those practiced muscles rippling in irregular pulses that made my vision swim. “Fuck,” I gasped, bucking instinctively deeper into that familiar heat, “you’re still so *open* from him.”

Aria wrapped her legs around my waist with surprising strength, her thighs clamping down like a vise as she pulled me impossibly closer. “I love you,” she breathed against my lips–not the performative moan she’d offered J last night, but something raw and fractured that caught in her throat. Her fingers dug into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks as she rocked up against me, her swollen walls fluttering around my shaft in uneven contractions.

My hips stuttered at the sudden sensation–too tight, too hot–and for a dizzying moment, I wondered if she’d come again just from feeling my modest length inside her. Then Aria’s hands slid down my back, nails scraping over sweat-slick skin until her fingers found purchase on my hips. Without breaking our frantic rhythm, she lifted herself slightly–just enough to pull me free with a wet pop that made us both shudder.

Her thighs trembled violently as she rolled onto her side, her breath hitching when my tip brushed against her still-quivering clit. One hand reached back to spread her cheeks while the other guided me lower–past the swollen lips glistening with her arousal, past the puckered furl still loose from last night’s thorough stretching. I froze when my tip caught against that tight ring of muscle, my pulse pounding in my throat as her fingers tightened around my shaft.

“Slow,” Aria breathed through clenched teeth, her hips arching back in tiny, experimental thrusts. We hadn’t done anal in years–not since my birthday 3 years ago. Now her whole body shook with a different tension–not fear, but something darker, needier–as she pressed back against me with deliberate slowness. “Just… just give me a second to–oh *fuck*–”

Her gasp ripped through me as her body yielded, the tight ring of muscle reluctantly stretching around my modest girth. Inch by inch, I sank deeper into that impossible heat–so much tighter than her well-used pussy–until my hips met the curve of her ass with a damp slap. Aria’s choked whimper dissolved into shuddering breaths as her fingers twisted in the sheets, her spine arching beautifully beneath me.

Her sphincter gripped my cock so tightly I saw stars–pulsing around me in erratic flutters that threatened to unravel me instantly. The slick drag of my shaft through her clenched hole sent electric jolts up my spine and through my balls. Every slight movement–every twitch of her thighs or hitch of her breath–sent fresh waves of pleasure crashing through me until my vision blurred at the edges.

“You like wrecking my ass like this?” Aria panted suddenly–her voice ragged and broken–her fingers digging into my forearm where it braced against the mattress. She arched back against me, forcing me impossibly deeper into that tight heat. “I bet Jasmine’s asshole would feel even tighter.” Her whisper dripped with wicked suggestion, her swollen lips parting as she glanced over her shoulder at me through hooded eyes. “You could stretch her virgin hole after J fucks mine loose–make her scream around your cock while she watches me take his.”

My hips stuttered at the mental image–Aria’s voluptuous rear eclipsing Jasmine’s petite frame. Where Jasmine’s pert backside had looked athletic in those black leggings, Aria’s full curves overflowed my palms now, each cheek dimpling under my grip as I pulled her back onto my cock. The difference was obscene; Jasmine’s tight little ass would disappear in one hand while Aria’s jiggled with every thrust, the pale flesh reddening under my slaps.

I slowed my rhythm, dragging myself nearly free before sheathing back in with deliberate slowness–testing the fantasy. Jasmine’s shocked gasp would be sharper than Aria’s throaty moans, her nails digging into the headboard instead of clawing at the sheets. Would she sob when I bottomed out? Or bite her pillow to muffle screams as her virgin hole stretched around me? The thought made my cock twitch inside Aria’s clenching heat.

“You’re imagining her face right now,” Aria panted, twisting to catch my gaze–her pupils swallowing the hazel as she clenched around me with vicious precision. Her fingers dug into my thigh, leaving crescent moons in the sweat-slick skin. “That tight little O of her mouth when you first push in–” She broke off with a gasp as I snapped my hips forward, the wet slap of flesh drowning her following words.

The bedframe groaned when she suddenly rolled onto hands and knees, her back arching obscenely as she presented herself–the view obscenely reminiscent of last night’s debauchery, except now it was *my* cock disappearing between her flushed cheeks. “Do it,” she demanded, pressing her forehead against the rumpled sheets while her fingers spread herself wider. “Fuck my ass like you’re fantasizing about wrecking hers.”

I obeyed instantly–my hips slamming forward with enough force to make her gasp–and just as my balls slapped against her dripping pussy, Aria’s hand darted between her legs. Her fingers curled beneath my scrotum with brutal efficiency, roughly massaging the taut skin while her ass clenched rhythmically around my shaft. The dual sensation made my vision flicker–her tight channel strangling my cock while her palm milked my balls with merciless skill–until my thrusts turned erratic.

Aria’s labored breathing filled the room as she arched impossibly higher–her spine bowing like a drawn arrow–forcing me deeper into that impossible heat. Her fingers abandoned my balls to scrape down my thighs, leaving angry red trails in their wake as she gasped, “Deeper, Scott–*fuck*, I want to feel you in my stomach.” The plea sent my hips pistoning forward with renewed frenzy, each brutal thrust stretching her loosened ring wider than the last.

My knees burned against the sheets as I adjusted my stance behind her–rising just enough to change the angle without slipping free. Aria’s choked cry confirmed I’d found it; the new position drove my cock directly against that sweet spot inside her that made her thighs quake. Her pussy dripped obscenely onto the sheets beneath us, her swollen clit pulsing with each ragged breath as I pinned her hips in place–no longer thrusting, but grinding in deep circles that drew broken whimpers from her lips.

Then, without warning, I gripped her waist with both hands–my fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her hips hard enough to leave bruises–and slammed forward with my entire weight. Aria’s scream ricocheted off the walls as we collapsed onto the mattress together, my cock buried to the hilt in her ass while her body bucked wildly beneath me. The sudden tightness as her sphincter clenched in surprise sent me spiraling over the edge; hot ropes of cum pumped deep into her clutching hole as my vision whited out, my hips jerking erratically against her ass with each violent pulse.

We stayed joined for those few quiet moments–my softening cock still nestled inside her as our sweat-slick bodies cooled–not knowing what would come next. Aria’s fingers twitched against the sheets where they’d been fisted moments before, her breathing ragged against my cheek where she’d turned her face. There was no sound except the occasional drip of fluids from her wrecked pussy onto the damp sheets beneath us, the scent of sex and salt clinging heavy in the air between us.

As we curled up in bed, on the freshly changed sheets that had now become dirty again, we held each other- not speaking, not needing to until Aria’s fingers traced my lower lip with unexpected tenderness. “Friday is going to change everything,” she murmured, her throat raw from screaming, her pupils still blown wide despite the exhaustion weighing down her limbs. Jasmine’s name hung unspoken between us, thickening the air like the musk of our shared climaxes–her petite frame already imprinted behind my eyelids whenever I blinked.

To Be Continued…?

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