The bedroom door clicked shut.
I sat there on the couch, pants still down around my thighs, dick still stiff in my hand, and her taste—his taste—still thick on my tongue. It was warm, wet, unmistakable. The kiss Amanda had given me wasn’t just a gesture. It was a brand. A signature. A transfer of ownership.
And Roman had signed it.
I don’t even know how it happened so fast. One second we were watching soccer, the next… my wife was on her knees in front of my best friend, lips wrapped around his cock, while I watched—like a guest in my own marriage. Not just a guest… a witness. A submissive. A spectator.
And the worst part?
I liked it.…
