LOGINHe doesn't need to be told twice.In one fluid motion, he frees his cock from his pants and buries himself inside me. No preamble, no gentle preparation, just the sudden overwhelming fullness of him taking what belongs to him. I cry out at the invasion, my body stretching to accommodate him, and he swallows the sound with his mouth on mine."Is this what you wanted?" he growls against my lips, pulling back only to slam into me again. "To know the real me? To be fucked by a man who's killed more people than you can count?""Yes." The word comes out broken, punctuated by each brutal thrust. "God yes, don't stop, please don't stop."He fucks me on his desk like punishment and reward rolled into one. His hands grip my hips hard enough to leave marks, controlling my body completely, using me exactly the way he wants. I'm just along for the ride, pinned and helpless and loving every second of it."I've wanted to do this for so long," he confesses, his rhythm never faltering. "To show you wh
I find the gun while looking for our tax documents.It's hidden in the back of his home office closet, behind a false panel I only discovered because I dropped my phone and it slid under the shelving unit. When I reached back to grab it, my fingers brushed against something that felt wrong, a seam that shouldn't be there, and curiosity made me investigate further.Now I'm sitting on the floor of my husband's office, staring at a black metal case that contains a disassembled rifle, three handguns, and enough ammunition to start a small war. There are also passports, five of them, each with Konstantin's face and a different name. Cash in multiple currencies. And a small leather notebook filled with dates, locations, and what can only be described as payment records.My husband is not, as I've believed for the past two years, a corporate consultant who travels frequently for boring meetings in boring cities.My husband is a killer.I should be terrified. I should be calling the police, p
The announcement comes over a crackling speaker."Fifteen minutes until closing. Please finish up and exit the premises."I'm sprawled on the bench, unable to move. My body feels like it's been through a war, and in a way it has. I don't know how many men have used me tonight. Fifteen? Twenty? More? I lost count somewhere after the twelfth cock appeared through that hole. My pussy is swollen and sore, tender to the touch. My jaw aches from sucking so much cock, the muscles stiff and tired. My face is sticky with dried cum that I never bothered to wipe off. My thighs are coated with the releases of countless men.I'm completely, thoroughly used. And I've never felt better.One last cock appears through the hole.The smart move would be to wave him off. Get dressed and leave and try to process what I've just done tonight. Instead I kneel down on shaky legs and take him in my mouth for one final taste.He's gentle, this last one. He lets me set the pace, doesn't thrust or grab. Just lets
I don't leave.The fifth man fucks me from behind at a leisurely pace, like he's savoring every stroke. He takes his time, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in, making me feel every inch. The sixth takes me hard and fast, slamming into me so hard the wall shakes, rattling the partition. The seventh makes me come for the first time, rubbing my clit through the hole while he pounds into me, my screams muffled against my own hand.I'm a mess. Cum dripping down my thighs from all the men who've finished inside me. Face still glazed from the third man who painted me with his release. Hair stuck to my sweaty forehead, makeup long since ruined. I've lost track of time. Lost track of everything except the cocks that keep appearing through that hole.A knock on my booth door makes me freeze mid-stroke."Everything okay in there?" A female voice. Staff, probably."Fine." My voice is wrecked, hoarse from moaning and taking cocks down my throat. "Just fine.""We close in two hour
The adult theater is exactly as seedy as I expected.Neon signs flicker outside, advertising live shows and private booths. The parking lot is half-full of anonymous sedans, men coming and going with their collars up and their eyes down. The guy behind the counter barely looks up when I pay for admission. Twenty bucks for a private room in the back. No questions asked. No judgment in his eyes.I've been thinking about this for months. Ever since my friend Alicia told me about the place, drunk at happy hour, laughing about how she'd sucked off three strangers through a hole in the wall and never saw a single face. I thought she was joking at first. Then I saw the look in her eyes. She wasn't joking. She was giving me ideas.The hallway is dim, lined with numbered doors. Some have red lights above them, indicating occupancy. Others are dark. I find booth seven and step inside, my heart hammering against my ribs. It's small, maybe five feet by five, with a vinyl bench against one wall an
Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, watching us kneel before him with his cum still dripping from our flushed faces."I have to admit, Vivienne, I never knew you had this side hidden inside you," he said, sounding genuinely impressed. "All these years of boring, predictable, missionary-position sex, and you were hiding this kinky little slut the whole time?""I didn't know either." I wiped a streak of his cum from my chin and licked my fingers clean, watching his cock twitch with renewed interest at the sight. "Not until tonight. Not until I watched you with her.""So what happens now?" Camilla asked, running her hand slowly up my inner thigh, making me shiver. "Are you going to share your husband with me from now on? Or are you going to fight me for him?""I don't want to fight you." I looked up at Sebastian, then back at her beautiful face. "I want to keep watching him with you. And maybe more than just watching. Maybe participating too."Sebastian's cock was definitely hardening
I've had my hands on these men for four months. Taping ankles before every game. Massaging cramped muscles after brutal practices. Working out knots in shoulders and thighs while pretending I don't notice how they look at me. Pretending I don't go home every night and touch myself thinking about wha
I pull the mask up slowly. His jaw. His mouth. His nose. His cheekbones.I know that face."You."Theo Barnes. The quiet guy from my lit class. Back corner. Never speaks. Dark eyes I've caught watching me a hundred times but always dismissed as shyness. As coincidence. As nothing."Me." No shame in
I'm so full. He's stretching me open, hitting places nobody's ever reached. Every thrust shoves me into the mattress and I'm making sounds I didn't know I could make, all of them muffled against his palm."Fuck, you're tight." He pulls back and drives in again. "Even tighter than I imagined. And I i
Someone has been watching me for three weeks. Notes slipped under my dorm door. Photos tucked into my backpack. Messages that prove he sees everything I do, even the things I do alone in the dark.You touched yourself for two hours last night. You didn't finish. I could have helped.I should report







