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Friday, June 13, 2025

Biggest Dick Gets The Attention: Part 3

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The bedroom door opened.

Soft light spilled into the hallway, framing Amanda in silhouette as she stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel, hair damp, skin glowing. Roman trailed behind her shirtless, casual, completely at ease—like this was already his home.

Amanda met my eyes first.

There was no guilt in her gaze.

No shame.

Just ownership.

Of me.

Of him.

Of everything.

“Well,” she purred, “you didn’t fall asleep out here, did you?”

I shook my head and sat up a little straighter. My pants were still around my ankles. I didn’t even think to pull them up. I just looked at her—looked through her towel—and waited for her to tell me what came next.

Roman flopped down into the big armchair like he’d done this a hundred times before. He smirked at me but said nothing. Just spread his legs, relaxed, and looked completely satisfied.

Amanda walked toward me slowly, her towel loosening with each step. She dropped it right in front of me. Naked. Confident. Still flushed from sex. Her thighs glistened with his cum.

That was the final proof.

Her body wore him.

And she wanted me to see.

I couldn’t look away.

She cupped my chin, lifting my face so I had to meet her eyes. “Did you enjoy your little show, baby?”

I nodded. “Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

My throat caught. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Mmm. That’s better.”

She turned slightly and leaned back against the couch arm, lifting one leg and planting her foot in my lap. I instinctively began rubbing it, eyes cast down, silently worshiping her.

Roman watched from the armchair, cock still thick and half-hard as he ran a hand lazily over his abs. Like he was waiting for her to decide what to do with me.

Amanda stretched luxuriously. “He was rougher this time,” she said softly, like she was telling me a secret. “Pulled my hair. Pinned my wrists. Made me beg for it.”

I swallowed hard, my hands pausing on her arch. “You begged?”

She smiled at Roman, then back at me. “I did. And I loved it.”

Then she leaned in close and whispered just for me, “You heard me, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“You touched yourself while you listened to me being fucked, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Her voice dropped. “Did you taste him again?”

I nodded again, cheeks burning with shame and arousal. “Still can…”

“Good,” she purred, brushing a thumb across my lips. “I want that taste burned into your memory.”

Roman chuckled from the chair. “He’s already addicted.”

Amanda turned back to me. “Would you like to show your gratitude, baby?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Get on your knees. Thank me properly.”

I slipped off the couch onto the floor in front of her, pressing soft kisses to her feet, then up her calf, slowly working my way to the slick heat between her thighs. Her scent was thick with sex. His cum still inside her.

My tongue trembled.

But I licked anyway.

Because this was who I was now.

Her devoted little cuckold.

Her cleanup boy.

The taste was musky, pungent, and unmistakably not mine. And it made my cock twitch with every lick. She leaned back, moaning softly, one hand tangled in my hair, guiding me to her favorite spots while Roman watched casually, stroking himself.

“You’ve never made her sound like that,” he said, not cruel—just honest.

And I couldn’t even argue.

Because he was right.

Amanda tugged my head up, her eyes gleaming. “Look at you. So obedient now. So eager to serve.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I know,” she smiled. “And this… this is how you show it.”

She turned to Roman. “He’s learning, isn’t he?”

Roman stood up, walked over, and stood behind her, gently massaging her shoulders. “Fast learner.”

I stayed there kneeling, eyes flicking between them. Their chemistry was so natural. Their energy—hot, primal, complete. And me? I was the witness. The helper. The supporter. The submissive link between them.

Amanda glanced down. “You can finish, baby.”

I hesitated.

“Look at him while you do it,” she added.

I did.

Roman held her like she was his. Because in that moment, she was. And I came again, just from that. From their dominance. From her smile. From the way his hands gripped her waist like he knew she was staying the night.

And maybe she was.

Maybe this wasn’t a one-time thing.

Maybe this was a beginning.

Amanda reached for my face again, tilting it up. She kissed me softly this time, letting me taste all of it—them. She pulled away and whispered, “You’re my good boy.”

And I was.

I really, really was.


The End

Tora
Tora
I’m Tora, a Japanese-American trans woman who channels my journey and passions into writing erotic stories. Born in Tokyo and now living in Seattle, I blend the vibrant culture with eclectic energy of my new home. My writing explores themes of identity, desire, and empowerment, inviting readers into bold, sensual worlds full of authentic passion.

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