The bathroom door opened with a soft click, steam drifting into the dim living room like mist. Samantha stepped out, wrapped in a thin robe that stuck to her damp skin. The robe hung slightly open, revealing the curve of her chest, still warm from the shower. Water dripped from her dark hair, trailing down her neck and collarbone before vanishing beneath the fabric. Her legs—smooth, bare, flawless—shone faintly in the low light.
She stopped when she saw Renard.
He had finally fallen asleep on the couch, his body slumped in exhaustion. Dark circles under his eyes showed he'd spent the night awake, tormenting himself with thoughts of her with another man . A sharp feeling twisted in her chest—guilt? pity? She wasn't sure.
But it didn't matter now.
She moved closer, her bare feet silent on the floor. Standing over him, she studied his face—the tension in his jaw even in sleep, the way his fingers twitched as if still searching for answers.
"Renard," she said, her voice low but firm. "Wake up."
Then Samantha spoke again, "How long will you keep doing this? Get up. I need to talk to you." She saw that Renard was still asleep and hadn't woken up. She sighed. "You're acting like a child. Get up. Isn't this what you wanted? Now you're acting distant. Tell me."
When he heard this, Renard sat up, his eyes downcast, avoiding her gaze. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "It was my mistake. Please don't leave me."
When Samantha heard this, she felt a pang of guilt and looked at her husband. Instead of answering Renard, she turned to him and said, "We should do it now."
Confused, Renard looked up at her. "What? What do you mean?"
Samantha met his eyes and replied, "I mean… should we have sex?"
When he heard this, Renard instinctively blurted out, "Right now?"
"What better time could there be?"
Samantha sank to her knees between Renard's legs, her delicate fingers working with practiced ease. She undid the button of his jeans, tugging them down just past his knees. Her gaze dropped to his limp cock, soft and unresponsive despite her touch. She took him into her mouth anyway, swirling her tongue slowly, sucking gently—but no matter how she teased, he remained flaccid.
A flicker of frustration crossed her face.
She pulled back, studying him. Renard looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, his body slack with fatigue. Of course. He hadn't slept all night. How could he get hard now? She thought.
"Are you tired?" she asked, her voice low. She felt bad for his husband.
Renard didn't answer. How could he tell her the truth? That while she was gone, he had been tormented by visions—her with Roy—his wife moaning beneath another man, taking his cock, crying out in pleasure. The images had haunted him, driving him to his own hand, jerking off again and again until he was spent, until his body refused to respond no matter how filthy his thoughts became.
Every time the images resurfaced, his imagination runs wild, Roy fucking Samantha round and soft ass,her ass deformed with Roy strong thrust as he kneaded her supple breast while giving Samantha sloppy kisses, making her scream his name in pleasure. Renard cock grew hard.
Roy spreading Samantha legs apart while he held her hands above her head as he fucked her pussy roughly—only Renard to get more excited as he stroke himself raw, chasing release until he was numb. How could he admit that? How could he tell her that his exhaustion wasn't from lack of sleep, but from hours of desperate, guilty masturbation?
Samantha watched Renard, her eyes narrowed with a mix of concern and impatience. She could see the conflict in his face—the way his lips parted as if to speak, then clamped shut again. He wanted to explain, but the words wouldn't come.
Finally, his voice cracked.
"Can you… tell me what you did with Roy?" he asked, staring at the floor, shame burning in his chest. Just asking the question made him feel sick.
Samantha stiffened. A flicker of embarrassment warmed her cheeks, but she pushed it down. Her husband was hurting. If honesty would ease his mind, she owed him that much.
She met his gaze. "Will you be able to handle it?"
Renard nodded, jaw tight. "Just… tell me. Please."
Samantha took a slow breath, steadying herself. Memories flickered.
"The moment I climbed onto Roy, I could feel his cock straining against his jeans, thick and eager even through the fabric. My pussy was already dripping—just the heat of him beneath me, the way his breath hitched when I rolled my hips, sent a pulse of wetness between my legs. I didn't wait. I shoved him back onto the bed, my fingers making quick work of his belt, his zipper, until his cock sprang free, flushed and heavy in my hand.
I didn't give him time to think.
I took him deep into my mouth, savoring the salt of his skin, the way his thighs tensed as I hollowed my cheeks around him. When I pulled back, his cock glistened under my spit, veins standing out along the shaft. Long, thick and hard.
Than I stood up, I let my sundress fall, watching his eyes darken as my tits bounced free. I squeezed them around his cock, spitting again just to hear him groan, just to feel him throb against my cleavage. The wetter, the better.
His hips jerked as I worked him—sucking his tip while my tits slid up and down his length, my nipples brushing his stomach. His fingers tangled in my hair, his breath coming in rough gasps.
I knew he was close. I wanted him to lose control.
When he came, it was with a broken groan, thick streaks of cum painting my tits, my collarbone. I moaned, rubbing it into my skin, licking a stray drop from my finger. The taste of him—bitter, made my pussy clench."
Samantha couldn't believe what she was seeing.
As she described her encounters with Roy—every sinful detail, every moan, every touch—Renard's limp cock began to stir. At first, it was just a twitch. Then, against all logic, it hardened, thick and heavy between his legs.
She stared in disbelief. "How?"
Just moments ago, he'd been too exhausted to respond. Now, hearing her confess her betrayal, his body betrayed him too—throbbing with perverse excitement.
Renard felt it too. Shame burned through him, but so did something darker, hotter. The more Samantha spoke, the more his imagination ran wild.
He'd spent all night jerking off to these same thoughts, draining himself until he thought he'd never get hard again. But now, hearing it from her lips? It was different. Disgusting yet undeniable perverted. It was arousing yet shameful but it made Renard so excited, it's cock throb with renowned vigor.
His cock pulsed, harder than before, aching as if it might burst.