NATASHA.I pushed open the apartment door with my usual tired smile, expecting to find the quiet evening routine I had grown used to. Instead, the sound hit me first — the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, accompanied by a woman’s high-pitched moans that echoed off the living room walls. My heart stuttered. My grocery bag slipped from my fingers, oranges rolling across the hardwood floor. There, on the couch we had bought together last year, was my boyfriend of three years, his pants around his ankles, driving his cock into a woman I didn’t recognize. Her legs were spread wide, heels digging into his back as he thrust hard and deep, her juices coating his shaft and dripping down onto the cushions with every plunge.For one horrifying, electric moment, my body betrayed me. Heat flooded between my thighs. My clit swelled and throbbed against the seam of my jeans. I felt myself growing slick, my nipples tightening painfully beneath my bra as I watched his familiar cock stretch her
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