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I was half-listening to Sarah while she stood at the stove stirring the pasta sauce, the wooden spoon going around and around in slow, steady circles like she always does when she’s thinking about something. The kitchen smelled like garlic and tomatoes simmering, that familiar homey smell that usually makes me relax, but tonight I was distracted by the way her gray leggings hugged her hips and ass every time she shifted her weight. She had on her usual loose white t-shirt, the soft cotton one she wears around the house, and like always, no bra underneath, so when she reached up to grab the oregano from the cabinet I could see the outline of her full breasts moving under the fabric.
“Can you believe it?” she said suddenly, her voice higher than normal with surprise. “Emma actually started an OF Like, she’s posting real pictures of herself in lingerie and stuff now. She showed me the page yesterday when we were having coffee, and she’s already made almost eight hundred dollars in just two days. Eight hundred! From strangers paying to look at her.”
I took a slow sip of my beer, leaning against the counter and watching her. “Emma? Seriously? The same Emma who turns bright red whenever anyone even mentions sex in a joke?”
Sarah let out a small, nervous laugh and nodded, her eyes flicking down to the pot like she was embarrassed just talking about it. “Yeah, exactly her. It’s so wild. She’s doing these teasing photos… shots of her ass in tiny thongs, some in those little dresses that barely cover anything. And guys are actually paying extra just to send her messages and tell her what they’d do to her. She said it’s mostly compliments so far, but still… it’s crazy.”
We both chuckled a little, but the laugh didn’t last long… it felt weird having this conversation in our normal kitchen while dinner was cooking. Then I grinned, mostly just messing with her, and tossed out, “So… would you ever do something like that?”
She stopped stirring completely. The spoon hung in the air for a second before she turned and looked at me with those big eyes, wide and startled. Then she shook her head fast, like the idea itself scared her. “No. Oh my gosh, no way!!” Her voice came out quiet and embarrassed, almost a whisper. “We’ve been together for so long now, I can’t imagine the thought of showing my body to complete strangers online? I’d be mortified. I wouldn’t even know how to pose or what to say. I’d probably just sit there frozen and feel stupid.”
She turned back to the stove and started stirring again, but slower, like she was trying to hide how flustered the conversation made her. “And besides, I’m not like those girls you see online. They’re all perfect, flat stomachs, confident poses, doing all these adventurous things without blinking. I’ve never been bold like that. Never even close. If I tried, I’d probably freak out halfway through and delete everything in a panic.”
I walked over behind her, slid my arms around her waist the way she likes and rested my chin on her shoulder so I could smell her shampoo mixed with the sauce. “Babe, come on. You’re way prettier than Emma. Every single time we go out to dinner or a movie, I catch guys staring at you… at your curves, your smile, the way you move. They’re not subtle about it. You’d absolutely crush it if you wanted to. Guys would lose their minds paying to see more of you.”
She let out a shy little giggle and ducked her head, her cheeks going red. “Stop it… you’re just saying that to make me feel better.” She leaned back into me for a second, her body warm and soft against mine, then we both let the conversation drop like it was too awkward to keep going. We finished making dinner, ate at the table talking about normal stuff – work, the weekend plans – then moved to the couch for our usual Netflix episode. Later in bed we we did what we always do: each of us on our phones, not really talking to each other, just staring at our screens. Just the routine we’d fallen into over the years.
But the next morning at breakfast everything felt off in a way I couldn’t ignore. Sarah was quieter than usual, almost distant. She sat across from me in her silky blue robe, the one that always gaps open a little at the front when she moves, her hair still messy and tangled from sleep. She kept glancing down at her phone on the table like it was pulling her attention, biting the inside of her lip, and under the table one of her bare feet kept rubbing nervously against the other.
I poured myself more coffee and watched her for a minute. “Hey… you okay? You’ve been super quiet since you woke up. Something bothering you?”
She took a small, shaky breath, then looked up at me. Her fingers started twisting the tie of her robe. “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about last night. Emma’s OF thing. And… what you said. About me being pretty, and how guys notice me when we’re out… You made me feel kind of confident for a second, you know? Like maybe I would be good at this, who knows? And now I can’t stop thinking about it. What if I actually tried it? Just to see what happens. I’m… curious. Really curious.”
My heart sunk. Fuck. I’d only been joking when I said that stuff last night… never in a million years did I think she’d take it seriously. My mind started racing in every direction. If I told her no right now, if I said it was a bad idea, I’d sound like a controlling asshole and we’d end up in one of those long, tense silences that last for days. So I just nodded slowly, forcing my face to stay calm.
She leaned forward a little, the robe slipping open just enough that I caught a glimpse of the soft curve of one breast. Her voice stayed shy and hesitant, but there was a new excitement creeping in, making her words come out a little faster.
“It could be fun, maybe?” she said, almost like she was testing the idea out loud. “Something totally different from my normal routine. Lately I’ve been feeling… kind of down, you know? A little depressed, stuck in the same boring days over and over. This could bring some real excitement into my life. It might help pull me out of this funk, give me something to look forward to. And honestly… it would make me feel sexier again. Like I’m still attractive, still worth looking at. I think it could really boost my confidence and even help with my mental health, just having something that makes me feel alive and wanted.”
She paused, twisting the tie of her robe between her fingers, cheeks still flushed.
“To make it work, though … to actually be successful and keep people coming back — I’d have to try new stuff. Adventurous things. Things I’ve never really done, or at least not in a long time. I’d have to push myself, you know? Maybe finally try anal, or different positions, or whatever keeps the audience engaged. It would take courage, but… I think I could do it. I’d have to, right? If I want this to actually go somewhere.”
(Inside my head I was already spinning… Holy shit, this is it. She’s finally going to open up. We’ll start filming little things together… her touching herself for the camera, me sliding into her from behind, her whispering dirty things she’s never said before. She’ll get so turned on showing off that she’ll want it every night. No more lights-off quickies. She’s going to turn into my perfect little slut, and it’ll all be for us.)
I cleared my throat, pushed down the rush of heat in my chest, and managed a small smile. “Yeah… that actually sounds kind of exciting. Like it could be really good for you.”
She gave me a tiny, relieved smile, her eyes lighting up just a bit more. “Really? Okay… maybe we can try then. Just small steps at first. For me.”
Today marks exactly one month since that breakfast conversation.
I’m standing in the doorway of our bedroom watching Sarah get ready. She’s in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the black lace thong that barely covers anything, then slipping on a tiny red crop top that leaves her stomach bare. Her hair is down, makeup heavier than she ever wore for me, smoky eyes, glossy lips that look made for sucking. She looks confident. Hot. Like a different woman! The shy, blushing Sarah who couldn’t even say “anal” without giggling is gone.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to act normal while my stomach twists. My mind keeps flashing back to that morning at the kitchen table. Her voice soft and nervous: “It could be fun… bring some excitement into my life… help with my confidence… make me feel sexier again… I’ll have to try new stuff to keep people interested… maybe finally try anal, different positions… I think I could find the courage now.”
I remember exactly what I thought right then. Holy shit, this is gonna fix everything. We’ll finally try all the dirty things I’ve wanted for years. She’ll dress up for me in slutty outfits, we’ll film ourselves fucking like animals, she’ll ride me reverse cowgirl while moaning my name for the camera. Our bedroom will turn into a playground. No more boring quickies. She’ll be my personal pornstar, hungry for my cock, begging me to use her holes.
That’s what I pictured. That’s what I jerked off to every night after she said yes.
Reality hit different.
The first week she posted solo pics, lingerie shots, ass in thongs, a little boob tease. Subs came fast. Tips rolled in. She was thrilled, texting me screenshots of comments like “Fuck, I’d pay double for more” and “What a body, goddess”. I was happy too. Thought it was building her up so she’d turn that energy toward me.
Then she started DMing other creators. Male ones. Big, muscled guys with 50k+ followers, professional cocks that look like they could split her in half. She’d show me messages sometimes. “Hey, love your content, wanna collab?” – and laugh like it was no big deal. “It’s just business, babe. More views, more money.”
To be continued… (im working on the next part)
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