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The doorbell’s chime echoed through the house, which Jay had just finished making sure was spotless. Jay’s stomach fluttered, a familiar mix of anxiety and electric anticipation. He walked to the bathroom door, where the soft light spilled out into the bedroom Jenna stood at the mirror, putting the final touches on her lipstick. The sight of her stole his breath. The black lace one-piece hugged every curve of her tight body, the plunging neckline showcasing the swell of her perky breasts, the high-cut legs emphasizing the delicious roundness of her ass. His cock, confined in its chastity cage, gave a painful, desperate throb against the rigid plastic.
“He’s here, hun,” Jay said, his voice a little tight.
Jenna turned, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her beautiful face. Perfect. “Why don’t you let him in and make sure he’s comfortable? I’ll be out in a minute.”
Jay nodded, padding to the front door. He took a steadying breath before opening it. Mark stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips. He was big, broad, muscular in a way that filled the space. His confident energy was palpable.
“Hey. how’s it going, come on in,” Jay said, stepping aside. “She’s just finishing up. Can I grab your coat?”
Mark handed over his wool jacket without a word, his eyes already scanning the living room, claiming it. Jay hung it up and gestured to the couch. “Have a seat. would you like a drink?”
“Sure, whiskey. Neat,” Mark said, settling into the center cushion, spreading his arms along the back.
Jay moved to the kitchen, his hands trembling slightly as he poured two fingers of amber liquid into a heavy glass. Just as he turned, Jenna made her entrance. She didn’t just walk in; she flowed. Her long black hair swayed, her hips moving with a confident, hypnotic rhythm in the sheer lingerie. She went straight to Mark, ignoring Jay completely.
“Hi, Daddy,” she purred, her voice low and sweet. “I missed you.”
Mark stood, and she walked into his arms. His hands went immediately to her ass, gripping the firm, lace-covered cheeks possessively, pulling her tight against his body. Their kiss wasn’t gentle. It was deep, hungry, a blatant display of ownership. Mark’s tongue claimed her mouth, one hand moving up to fist in her hair, tilting her head back. Jay watched from the kitchen island, a silent spectator, his own neglected arousal a sharp, aching pulse. He finished Jenna’s cocktail as the two lovers engaged and brought both drinks over.
Jenna broke the kiss, breathless, and took her glass from Jay. “Thank you, baby. You’re being such a good cuckie.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Why don’t you start plating dinner. I need to make sure Daddy is nice and comfortable in the meantime.” As she bit her bottom lip.
Jay obeyed, retreating to the kitchen. The sounds started almost immediately. A low zip, a soft, wet gasp. He risked a glance. Jenna was on her knees between Mark’s spread legs, his pants undone. Mark’s thick, impressive cock was in her hands, and then, in her mouth. She took him deep, her head bobbing with a fervent devotion that made Jay’s heart hammer. She worships it, he thought, the visual sending another violent jolt to his trapped cock. He plated the salmon and asparagus with robotic movements, each peek fueling a confusing storm of humiliation and intense arousal.
Mark let out a low groan of approval, his fingers threading through Jenna’s hair, guiding her pace. Just as Jay set the third plate down, Mark gently pulled Jenna up by her hair. “Why don’t we continue this after we eat, baby girl? Don’t want the food to get cold.”
Dinner was a surreal pantomime of normalcy. They sat at the dining table—Jay at one end, Jenna and Mark close together on the side. Jenna had pulled a silk robe on but hadn’t tied it, so the black lace still peeked through. She ate with one hand; her other was under the table, out of sight. Mark ate steadily, his free hand resting high on Jenna’s thigh, his thumb stroking idle circles on her inner skin. Conversation was sparse, dominated by Mark’s stories about his work, his deep voice commanding the space. Jenna hung on his every word, laughing at his jokes, feeding him a bite of her food from her fork. Jay pushed his food around his plate, his appetite diminished, replaced by a hollow, needy feeling in his gut. Every so often, Jenna’s breath would catch, or a faint blush would rise on her cheeks, betraying what Mark’s hidden hand was doing to her.
“Jay makes a great salmon, doesn’t he, Daddy?” Jenna said, her voice slightly uneven.
“Yeah, pretty good,” Mark said, not looking at Jay. His eyes were on Jenna, watching her reactions. His hand moved deliberately under the table. Jenna bit her lip, her legs shifting. “But I’m thinking about a different kind of meal right now.”
The meal ended. Jenna stood to clear the plates, but Mark’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. “Leave it.” His tone brooked no argument. He stood, and in one smooth, powerful motion, he scooped Jenna up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She let out a small, delighted squeal, wrapping her arms around his neck, nuzzling into him.
“Could you please clean up baby,” Jenna called over Mark’s shoulder, her eyes dark with promise. “Keep, you’re phone on you-I’ll text if we need anything.”
Jay could only watch as Mark carried his wife down the hallway to the bedroom. The door left half open. A deliberate invitation. The sounds began before Jay even reached the sink. The rustle of fabric, the crisp slap of palm to ass. Then, her voice, breathy and eager. “Oh, God, Daddy… yes…”
Jay’s hands shook as he scraped plates. He heard the distinct, heavy creak of their bed, followed by a deep, wet, rhythmic sound. Kissing. He’s kissing her everywhere. Mark’s voice, a low rumble, unintelligible but unquestionably commanding. Then, a sharp, pleasured cry from Jenna. “Right there! Please…”
The clatter of dishes seemed blasphemously loud. Jay tried to focus on the soapy water, the clink of glass, but his entire being was pulled toward that partially open door. The wet sounds grew louder, more intense, punctuated by Jenna’s escalating moans. She wasn’t holding back. Each cry was a lance through Jay, equal parts torture and fuel.
“Taste how ready you made me, Daddy,” Jenna gasped. A low, appreciative groan from Mark followed. The sounds of enthusiastic oral sex—his on her—filled the apartment. Jenna’s moans climbed into a high, desperate register.* “Yes! Just like that! Don’t stop!”_
Jay dropped a fork into the sink. He was painfully hard, the cage a cruel mockery. He leaned against the counter, his eyes glued to the sliver of darkness down the hall. The rhythm changed. The bed creaked in a new, faster, more forceful tempo. A deep, guttural sound from Mark. A shattered, screaming sobs of release from Jenna.
“Fuck! Mark! I’m gonna cum!”
But then it stopped, Mark had stopped. He was keeping her on the edge, not letting her feel the sweet release of an orgasm. Making her putty in his hands. Mark’s voice cut through, thick with exertion. “Not yet, baby girl. Come here.”