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My name is Mark Thompson, I’m thirty two years old, and I work at a marketing agency in downtown Chicago. I’m the typical average guy: five feet ten inches tall, brown hair that always looks a little messy no matter how much I comb it, green eyes that Sarah says are her favorite thing about me, and a body I keep decent by hitting the gym three or four times a week. I’m not the strongest or the tallest, but I put in the effort. At work I’m solid, reliable—the guy who turns in projects on time with no drama. I like planning everything: vacations, dinners, the future. Sarah and I have been together five years, engaged for six months, and I’m crazy about her.
Sarah is… God, Sarah is incredible. She’s twenty eight, teaches literature at a private school, and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Five feet five, with curves that could stop traffic—describing her feels intensely filthy: perfect breasts, natural 34D that feel soft yet firm when I touch them, tiny waist, wide hips, and a round ass that drives me wild every time I see it in tight jeans. Her hair is long, wavy, dark blonde with honey highlights; it always smells so damn good, especially with that floral perfume I gave her last year. Her eyes are hazel, big and expressive, and when she looks at me with that smile of hers I feel like the luckiest man in the world. She’s sweet, smart, affectionate. In bed she’s always been passionate with me: she loves kissing me slow, climbing on top and moving deliberately while whispering how much she loves me, moaning my name when she comes.
And then there’s Alex.
Alex is the son of a bitch who makes my life hell at the office. He’s thirty five and has a body that looks like it came straight out of a fitness magazine: broad shoulders, defined arms, abs that show through the shirts he always wears one size too small. Short black hair, square jaw, dark eyes that size everyone up like he already owns them. He’s the star salesman, the one who closes the biggest deals and then brags about it in every meeting. His stories are endless, and I seriously hate this guy’s attitude.
“The blonde from last Friday begged me not to stop all night,” he says in that deep voice with that arrogant smirk. Or “The redhead from the bar sucked my cock in the bathroom before we even finished our first drink.” He always, always ends up looking right at me.
“And you, Marky? Does Sarah still let you fuck her, or is she already tired of the same old thing every weekend?”
The others laugh because Alex buys the rounds and organizes the nights out, while I force a smile, clench my teeth, and change the subject. I get home frustrated and tell Sarah everything over dinner. She listens from the couch, legs tucked under her, stroking my arm.
“He’s an insecure idiot, baby,” she always says.
“He brags because deep down he knows he’s worth nothing. You’re better than him at everything because you’re good, loyal, you make me feel loved.”
Then she kisses me softly, hugs me tight, and that night we make love slowly, her on top moving deliberately, her breasts swaying near my mouth while she tells me she loves me forever and would never sleep with a guy like Alex.
That’s why I decided to bring her to the team night out that Friday. The usual bar, loud music, cheap beers, the typical after work thing. I thought it would be good for her to meet him, to see what a loser Alex really is in person.
“So she’ll understand why I come home so pissed,” I told her while we were getting ready.
Sarah laughed and put on that black dress that fits her like a glove—tight, subtle neckline that shows just enough of her breasts, length to mid thigh, heels that make her legs look endless.
“Relax, baby. I only have eyes for you,” she said, winking at me.
We got there around nine. The place was already packed. Alex was in the center of the group, telling some story with exaggerated gestures, surrounded by the usual crowd. When he saw us walk in, his eyes went straight to Sarah. He scanned her slowly, top to bottom, no subtlety at all.
“Wow, Marky,” he said, coming over with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t know you had such a… spectacular girlfriend.”
Sarah smiled politely and shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Alex. Mark’s told me a lot about you.”
He held her hand a second too long, staring at her intently. “I hope only good things.”
The night started out normal. We drank, talked in the group. Alex kept dropping his usual stories about being a goddamn asshole who sleeps with multiple women.
“Laura… sorry, Sarah,” Alex said, correcting himself with a laugh while we were all drinking together. “Do you really put up with this boring guy all day?”
The second he said that my blood boiled with rage. I thought about shoving him right there and giving him the beating of his life, but something stopped me—maybe a hint of excitement at his dominance, or maybe I wanted to see how Sarah would react.
Sarah laughed politely, but I noticed how he got closer than necessary, how he refilled her glass every time it was empty. I tried to stay calm, but I felt that familiar stab of insecurity that Alex always triggers in me.
At one point I went to the bathroom. The place was packed, I waited a few minutes in line, and when I came back the music had gotten louder and people were dancing in the back area.
I looked for Sarah and found her… dancing with Alex, and it wasn’t a normal dance. They were pressed together, way too close for what I could allow. I’d never seen my woman with another man, and especially not with the one I’d told her I thought was a son of a bitch. The music was slow, heavy, and their bodies moved to the rhythm like they’d been practicing for hours. Alex’s hands were on Sarah’s waist, slowly sliding down until they almost grazed her hips. She had her arms around his neck, head tilted slightly back, laughing, her breasts pressing against his broad chest every time they moved. Alex guided her confidently, his hips grinding deliberately, sensually against hers.
I stood frozen at the edge of the dance floor, beer in hand. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear the music. I couldn’t move. I watched as Alex leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Sarah laughed in a way I’d never heard from her… naughty, aroused, almost flirty. Her eyes sparkled when she looked at him. And then, when I least expected it, our eyes met. I felt intense fear in that moment, a nervous rush and the sensation that something was going to happen that I wouldn’t like at all. I didn’t know if Sarah’s look meant “I think this is going to get out of control tonight” or if I was just imagining the worst scenarios I could put myself in.
For a second I thought she would pull away, that she would come running to apologize for what was happening, kiss me, and we’d leave there and rush home so I could reclaim her. But no. Instead she smiled—a slow, mischievous smile, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the heat. And she kept dancing closer, slower, her hips circling against Alex’s crotch, his hand now lower, almost touching her ass.
I couldn’t look away; it was like watching an accident in slow motion. I felt rage, jealousy, humiliation… and something else I was ashamed to admit. My cock started hardening in my pants as I watched my fiancée grinding against the man who humiliated me every day at work.
Twenty minutes passed, maybe thirty—I don’t know, I’d lost all sense of time, even of myself. I was still standing there and they didn’t stop. At one point Alex spun her, pressed her back against his chest, his hands sliding up her sides, barely grazing the sides of her breasts. Sarah tilted her head back, resting it on his shoulder, eyes half closed like she was savoring every second.
Finally she pulled away a little and came over to me. She was flushed, hair tousled, lips redder than usual. Sarah got so close I could feel her heat and smell her perfume mixed with sweat—sweat caused by all that dancing with another man, the man who humiliates me at work.
“Baby…” she started, voice low and husky. Her eyes were bright, pupils dilated. “I know he’s an asshole, but… he’s turning me on so much. Can I… can I go home with him tonight? Just this once. Please.”
I looked at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. No words came out. I just nodded, silently, like I was hypnotized.
Sarah smiled, relieved and excited at the same time. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips, soft, almost tender.
“Thank you, baby. I love you so much.”
Then she turned and went back to Alex, who was looking straight at me. His smile was pure victory. He put a possessive hand on the small of Sarah’s back and they left the bar together.
I stayed there alone, music thumping, with a painful erection I didn’t fully understand.
I barely slept that night. I got to the apartment around one, and the silence hit me like a wall. Our place always felt alive when Sarah was home—her laughter filling the kitchen, her perfume lingering in the air, the way she left her shoes scattered by the door. But that night it was empty, cold. I poured myself a double whiskey, sat on the couch, and stared at the ceiling for hours.
My mind kept replaying the scene from the bar. The way Sarah moved against Alex, her hips grinding slow, her breasts pressed tight against him. That smile she gave me when she saw me watching. And the worst part was how my body reacted—I couldn’t believe I could get turned on watching my woman dance so sexily with another man right in front of me while my cock hardened from that provocative display. I jerked off twice in bed, picturing her with him, hating myself for it but unable to stop. I came hard both times, and each time I was stroking myself I was thinking about Sarah and Alex and whatever they were doing—maybe fucking rough, Sarah moaning his name in his ear while I was jerking off alone in our marital bed. I finally fell asleep peacefully after the second orgasm, but even in that brief sleep the torment didn’t go away—I kept dreaming about the two of them fucking, waking up sweating with my cock hard again.
I woke up the next day and Sarah still hadn’t come home all night. I called her multiple times hoping she’d answer, but every call went to voicemail. Around ten in the morning I heard the key in the door and my heart raced. I sat up in bed, still in my boxers, waiting, and then the door opened and there she was.
“Sarah?” I said, worried but also trying to find out what had happened that night.
God, she looked… wrecked in the best possible way. Her blonde hair was tousled, wild waves falling over her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and red like they’d been kissed for hours. She was wearing only Alex’s t-shirt, which barely reached mid-thigh. Her bare legs, smooth and tanned, looked endless. I could see her hardened nipples pressing against the thin fabric, and when she moved a little the shirt rode up just enough to give me a quick glimpse of her shaved pussy—swollen and red.
She looked at me with a mix of guilt and pure excitement. Her hazel eyes sparkled.
“Hi, baby,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.
“Hi,” I replied, my voice hoarse. I didn’t know what else to say.
She walked slowly toward the bed, like she was savoring the moment. She climbed on, crawling across the mattress until she was straddling my chest. The shirt rode up higher, confirming she had nothing on underneath. I could already smell it: sex, sweat, him.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked with a naughty little smile.
“Not much,” I admitted.
“Poor thing.” She leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. She tasted different—slightly salty. “I missed you this morning when I woke up… but not enough to stop him from fucking me again.”
My cock hardened instantly under the sheets. She noticed and laughed softly.
“Do you want me to tell you?” she whispered, sliding higher until her knees were on either side of my head. Her pussy was right above my face now, dripping. I could see how used it was—lips swollen, red, glistening with a mix of her juices and what was clearly his cum.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Good.” She lowered herself slowly until she was sitting on my mouth. I moaned at the first contact. She was hot, wet, tasting in a way I’d never experienced. Salty, thick, with that unmistakable flavor of another man.
“Clean me up, baby,” she said, voice husky. “Clean his cream out of me.”
I started licking obediently, my tongue sliding between her folds. She moaned and began to move slowly, grinding against my face.
“It was incredible, Mark,” she began, her voice trembling with excitement as she remembered. “We left the bar and went straight to his apartment. As soon as he closed the door he pushed me against the wall and kissed me like crazy. His hands everywhere… grabbing my ass, squeezing my tits. He pulled my dress up and shoved two fingers inside me at once. I was so wet from the dancing that they slid right in.”
Her hips moved faster as I licked deeper, swallowing everything I could.
“He carried me to his bed and undressed me slowly. He told me I was the hottest woman he’d ever had. That my tits were perfect, that my pussy was tight and sweet. He sucked my nipples until they ached from being so hard, then went down and ate me out until I came on his mouth twice.”
I moaned against her, my tongue thrusting in and out now.
“Then he put me on my knees and made me suck him. God, Mark… he’s huge. Way bigger than you. Thick, veiny, the head all swollen. I had to open wide to take it. He fucked my throat until I gagged, but I loved it. He called me his little slut while he did it.”
She was soaking again, mixing with whatever was left of him. I licked like crazy, lost in the humiliation and arousal.
“He fucked me three times last night. First in missionary, deep and slow, looking me in the eyes while telling me I was his now. I came so hard I screamed his name. Second from behind, pulling my hair, spanking my ass until it was red. He fingered my pussy and made me come again. And the third… I got on top and rode him until we both came together.”
Her movements became erratic. She was close.
“And this morning… I woke up with his hard cock against my ass. I turned over and sucked him until he was ready. Then he mounted me again and filled me up. He said, ‘Take this home to your pathetic little boyfriend. Make him clean it all up.’”
That was too much. She screamed and came on my mouth, her juices flooding me as her whole body shook. I cried out her name against her pussy, but she kept grinding until she was done.
Then she slid down slowly, moving along my body until her still-dripping pussy was over my rock-hard cock. The t-shirt stayed on, covering her breasts.
“Now you, baby,” she whispered, guiding me inside her.
I groaned loudly as I entered. She was slippery, hot, looser from him. It felt different. Used. Perfect.
She started moving slowly, rising and falling, hands on my chest.
“Does it feel good?” she asked, voice filthy. “Does my pussy feel full of his cum? Because it’s still in there, mixing with you.”
“Yes,” I moaned. “God, yes.”
She sped up a little, hips circling.
“He’s so big, Mark. He stretched me so much… filled me in a way you never could. He made me feel things… orgasms that left me shaking.”
My hands moved instinctively. One toward the hem of the shirt to lift it, the other toward her perfect breasts bouncing under the fabric.
But she stopped suddenly. She grabbed my wrists firmly and pinned them to the bed on either side of my head.
“No,” she said softly but firmly, looking me straight in the eyes.
“What?” I gasped, desperate to thrust into her.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Her voice was sweet, but there was something new: authority. “My tits are Alex’s now. You can’t see them or touch them anymore.”
I froze, my cock throbbing inside her.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” She started moving again, slow and torturous. “Last night, after the third time, he was caressing my breasts and said, ‘These perfect tits should be mine alone. Your little boyfriend doesn’t deserve them.’ And I… agreed. I told him yes, that I was giving them to him. That they were his to suck, squeeze, cum on whenever he wanted.”
Her words hit me like lightning. But she didn’t stop.
“Every time I go to him—and I’m going to go, Mark, because I can’t stop—he’s going to claim something more of me. A part of my body that used to be yours. And you’re going to give me permission to give it to him, right? Because you love me and want me to be happy.”
I couldn’t think. I just nodded, lost in the sensation.
“Good boy,” she whispered, speeding up. “Now come inside me. Come in the pussy he just claimed this morning.”
I came like never before, screaming, pumping everything into her while she looked at me with love and lust mixed.
Afterward, she collapsed onto my chest, still with me inside. She kissed my neck softly.
“I love you so much, Mark. This doesn’t change that. You’re my everything.”
We stayed like that for a while, breathing together. Then she slowly got up, my cum and his dripping down her thighs.
She leaned close to my ear, her voice a hot whisper.
“Alex texted me while I was on my way home. He wants to see me again tonight. Can I have permission, baby? Please?”
I looked into her eyes, shining with anticipation.
I nodded silently.
She smiled radiantly and kissed me deeply—on the cheek, because her lips were starting to feel different now too.
“Thank you, baby. You’re the best.”
She went to shower, humming, leaving me in bed, exhausted, humiliated, and more in love than ever.
To be continued…
If this story hooked you, you should know it’s only the first chapter.
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