Mag-log inI heard a knock before I saw the devil.
It wasn't a friendly knock. It was deliberate three slow, heavy beats that rattled through the thin walls of the house. “I pause in the kitchen, frozen in place with a noodle in my hand. The smell of burned eggs clung to the air. “Another knock.” “Coming.” I said finally coming out of the kitchen. I opened the door and finally saw him, my dad's best friend. Uncle Michael. He was standing, dressed in a black suit, wearing sunglasses. He wasn't just hot and handsome, he looked nothing like his age, forty-five years. He is tall, with broad shoulders and a thick chest. There was gravity inside him, a weight in the way he moved and spoke. He had always been so nice to me; he always called me his sweetheart, and I used to blush whenever he called me that. He was wearing a smile on his face. “Hey, Uncle Michael, it's you”? I finally said with a smile on my face. How are you, dear? I’m fine. Where is your dad? I have been trying to reach him on the phone but couldn't get through to him. “Oh, Dad left early in the morning, saying he will be having a meeting, so I guess he is still in the meeting.” Ok, he said, staring at me, that was when it hit me that I was only wearing shorts and a half vest, making my thigh come to view. Do you mind if I come in and have some coffee, the weather is cold out here. “Yeah, sure, Uncle, come in, please.” I gave him a way, and he made himself into the house, but I caught him glaring at my boobs. I found myself asking what was wrong with him, I kept the thought aside and made my way to the house. He was sitting on one of the couches in the living room, as I made my way back to the kitchen to make him the coffee he asked for. “I was done making the coffee and took it carefully to him. He reached out to take it from me, but in the process, his fingers brushed against mine and lingered just a second too long. The smile he gave me sent warmth rushing to my cheeks.” Trying to steady myself, I turned back into the kitchen and brought my bowl of noodles. I sat down, quietly eating while he sipped his coffee, the silence between us stretching until he finally spoke. “When will your dad be back?” he asked casually, his eyes on me. “Probably late I guess,” I replied. “He said he has a lot to do at the office.” A playful glint appeared in his eyes. “And won’t I have the privilege of tasting your noodles?” I couldn’t help but smile. “Noodles are for kids,” I teased, moving closer. “But since you insist, you can have some.” “Not unless you feed me yourself,” he countered smoothly. “Feed you? Uncle Michael, really?” I raised a brow, half amused and half nervous. But he looked completely serious, and before I could change my mind, I scooped up a spoonful and held it out. He leaned forward, taking it from me without breaking eye contact. I was still standing awkwardly when, with one sudden pull, he drew me down onto his lap. My heart raced as I found myself seated there, the spoon trembling slightly in my hand, while I continued feeding him bite after bite. I was done feeding him and gave him some water to gulp down, and he did. He drew me closer to his chest so that I could feel his breath on my face, and all of a sudden, I felt his lips on mine. “What the fuck.” I said to myself, What is Uncle Michael doing to me. He kissed me so hard with his tongue that I couldn't resist how he was kissing me. I have always wanted to do this for so long. I found myself kissing him back, while I felt his hand caressing down as he unbuckled the bottom of my shorts, and made his way inside my pants with a trample finger. “I let out a moan which escaped my lips as I felt his fingers inside my cunt playing with my pussy.” ‘His eyes darkened.’ Should I stop with what I'm doing, he asked. “My eyes were closed, lost in how he was careless with my pussy, “No Uncle Michael please don't stop. “He smiled.”SERENA. I was a traitor in my own bed, and the sentence was sleeplessness. Tossing and turning, the silk sheets a tangled accusation around my legs, I fought for an oblivion that wouldn’t come. Every time I shut my eyes, the darkness behind my lids wasn’t empty. It was filled with him. "Dominic. My father-in-law." The man I should have been running from, the man whose name should be a curse on my lips, was instead the ache in my bones, the ghost on my tongue. The taste of him still lingered in my throat, a salty, masculine secret that refused to be washed away. Beside me, the man known as my husband snored, a steady, oblivious rhythm that was an insult to the riot in my soul. I turned my head, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering in from the moon, and studied the planes of his face. I couldn’t breathe next to him. The air was thick with my betrayal, suffocating me with every breath he took. So I slipped out of the bed, a ghost in my own life. My bare feet met the col
Dominic. The meeting was a resounding success, a testament to the ironclad file I’d laid across the mahogany table. Every signature was secured, every dotted ‘i’ a monument to my influence. It was late, the city a smear of neon and shadow through my car window, by the time I pulled into the long, winding driveway of the mansion. The day’s triumph should have brought a quiet satisfaction, a bone-deep weariness that promised rest. Instead, a different kind of exhaustion clung to me, a feverish anticipation that coiled in my gut and promised no peace. The moment I stepped through the grand entrance and slammed the heavy oak door shut behind me, the silence of the house was a lie. It wasn’t empty; It was filled with her. I didn’t bother with the chandelier’s blinding light, preferring the familiar gloom that had always been my comfort. I shrugged off my coat, letting it fall to the marble floor, and loosened the silk tie constricting my throat. My feet carried me not towards
It has been over an hour since the incident occurred. Since I got on my knees and suck my father-in-law's cock like my fucking life depended on it. An hour since I had done something so sinful. And yet I was still trembling, still wet, achingly needy. I was lying flat on my bed. Staring up at the ceiling, the sheet twisted around my legs, the house was completely silent as if even the walls were afraid and holding their breath. And here I am. I couldn't stop thinking about him, about the way he was looking at me like he owned me, like I was nothing more than a mouth for him to fuck and leave me behind. But Truth to be told, I like it so fucking much it made my thigh clench and my nipples hard under my top. He hadn't even said a single fucking word after, hadn't even looked back, just walked out, leaving me all alone on the floor like a whore trash. And still my pussy paused at the memory. My whole body ached for his touch. I should have felt humiliated, I did a
SERENA.I froze. For a single, heart-stopping moment, I was convinced my own dirty, perverted mind had warped reality, that my desperate fantasies had bled into my hearing and twisted his words into something filthier, more potent than they actually were. But no.His voice, a low, commanding growl, sliced through the thick silence of the room, each word a deliberate, damning stroke.“Crawl the fuck to me. Right here. And take this huge cock into your mouth like a fucking good girl.”I hitched a breath so sharp it felt like swallowing glass. There he was, my father-in-law, a man I had only ever seen in tailored suits and stony expressions, now standing before me as a primal god. His command hung in the air, a challenge and a promise, while his hand was wrapped around the source of my every secret obsession. His thick, large, veiny cock. The one I had only ever seen in the grainy, stolen images of my fantasies was real. It was solid, it was heavy, and a glistening bead of precum dri
DOMINIC: The view of the road wasn’t clear for me as I drove, the rain pelted against the windshield like a thousand tiny, angry fists, each one trying to shatter the glass and drown me in the storm outside. But it didn’t matter. The storm inside my own head was far more violent. I couldn’t care less about the blurred lines of yellow and white, about the other idiots on the road who actually had the luxury of paying attention. My focus was a singular, burning point of rage, and its name was Paul. That motherfucker son of mine couldn’t do one single goddamn thing right, not one, and today of all days, he chose to amplify his incompetence to an art form. He couldn’t pick up his fucking phone for once in his miserable, pointless existence. "I snarled." A guttural sound tore from my throat as I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. The leather groaned under the impact, a pathetic echo of the fury churning in my gut. The car surged forward, my foot heavy on the accelerator, blin
Serena. The bathroom wasn’t a sanctuary; it was a battlefield. I didn’t slip into the steaming water to wash away the day’s grime or to luxuriate in the fragrant suds of some expensive soap. I came here because I was aching. A deep, insistent throb had settled between my legs hours ago, a pulsing, painful reminder of a life half-lived. I was so wet it was a torment, a slick heat that my own husband had ignored me for six long months. Six months since our wedding night, a night that was supposed to be the beginning of everything and was instead the end of it all. "So, fuck him." Fuck Paul and his gentle, disinterested smiles. Fuck his endless work and his tired excuses. As the first drops of hot water pelted my skin, I shed the final layer of my pretense. I wasn’t going to play the part of the dutiful, unaffected wife anymore. Not here, not with the water muffling the sound of my own fractured sighs. My fingers were already between my thighs, parting the slick folds, searching fo







