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Sunday, June 15, 2025

The Actress Returns – Part 1

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Kayla and Jim had been together for over a decade. High school sweethearts turned life partners, the love they shared had weathered every storm two people could face. Marriage, kids, jobs, sick parents, leaky faucets, tantrums, diaper blowouts, and long exhausting nights. Their two children—ages three and six—had become the axis around which their world spun.

In many ways, their life was beautiful. Cozy. Predictable.

But not passionate.

It wasn’t that Kayla didn’t love Jim. She did. Deeply. She loved the way he parented their kids, the way he could make them laugh uncontrollably. She loved the way he put her favorite snack in the cart even when she didn’t ask. The way he still rubbed her back at night when she couldn’t sleep. Jim was good. Stable. Loving.

But Kayla hadn’t felt lust for him in years.

Sure, they had sex—maybe once or twice a month. She gave what she had, but it wasn’t passion. It was affection dressed up in obligation. The sex felt less like an erotic connection and more like checking a box. She often thought about how a love story changes when two people become a family. Watching Jim host a tea party for their daughter didn’t exactly stoke the flames of raw sexual desire. How could the man patiently braiding doll hair one moment be the stud she wanted to bend her over the kitchen counter the next?

It wasn’t that Jim wasn’t attractive. He was. A bit softer now, a dad bod in full bloom, but still the sweet smile, kind eyes, and gentle demeanor that first won her heart. But therein lay the problem: Jim had become too familiar. Too safe. Too family.

The roles had blurred. She wasn’t just a wife anymore—she was a mother, a caretaker, a scheduler, a referee. She loved Jim, but desire? That felt like a distant cousin who used to show up for the holidays and now doesn’t even send a card.

She’d even thought about giving Jim the green light to seek sex elsewhere—just to relieve the pressure off herself. But they lived in a small town. Their parents were close, everyone went to the same grocery store, the same dentist, and their kids were in the only elementary school in town. If word ever got out, it would be a scandal. Small-town ears had big mouths.

So she did what women in her position often do: she gave him the minimum required to keep the peace. Nothing exciting. Nothing memorable. Just enough.

Until the day she caught him watching porn.


It wasn’t the porn itself that shocked her. Kayla had known Jim watched porn. But it was what he was watching. She walked in quietly after putting their youngest to sleep, only to find Jim scrambling to close a browser window. She saw just enough—a curvy woman bent over, being taken hard by a very large Black man. Another man, small and pale, sat on the edge of the bed, naked except for a small pink chastity cage.

“Open it back up,” she said calmly.

Jim hesitated.

“I want to see.”

He clicked it back open, sheepish.

She watched. No sound. Just image. The contrast was stark, the raw passion undeniable.

“Who were you in this?” she asked.

Jim stammered. “No one. I was just…curious. It’s just porn. Doesn’t mean anything.”

She stared at him. “Don’t lie. You were him, weren’t you? The locked one. Watching.”

He looked away, then finally nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

She leaned back, processing. She’d never imagined this about Jim. He wasn’t dominant in bed, but he wasn’t submissive either. Vanilla. Predictable. But this? This was something else.

She tilted her head. “Do you want to see me with another man?”

His eyes widened. “Not exactly. I don’t want to lose you. It’s just… we don’t have a very adventurous sex life, and I know it’s because, well, I’m on the smaller side.”

She shook her head. “Jim, your size isn’t the problem. It’s the pressure. The expectation. That I owe you sex. That I have to serve a duty. That makes me dry up faster than the desert.”

She paused.

“Send me five videos. Ones that really turn you on. Don’t overthink it. Just send them.”

That night, while folding laundry, her phone pinged. An email titled Videos.

She tucked the kids in, slipped into the bathroom, and locked the door.

Her throne? The toilet.


Each video peeled back a layer of Jim she didn’t know. There was humiliation, denial, praise, chastity, contrast. One video had a woman laughing at a man’s penis, cooing about how small it was, how cute. Another showed a wife returning home to describe being wrecked by a man so large her legs still trembled.

Kayla found herself unexpectedly turned on.

Not because of the videos, per se, but the revelation—Jim had a secret erotic world, and she had just found the key to it.

Her mind spun with ideas.

No, there would be no real men. Not in their town. Maybe if they traveled. New names. A fantasy played out in real-time. But for now, she had a better plan.


That evening, as Jim got out of the shower, she met him in their bedroom wearing nothing but a t-shirt.

“Let’s role play.”

His eyes lit up.

“I just got back from his house,” she said slowly. “He had me all afternoon. Pounded me until I couldn’t walk. My hair’s a mess. My pussy’s sore. And your little dick could never give me that.”

Jim’s breath caught.

She kept going, her voice calm but cutting. “You think you’re a man? You’re nothing compared to him.”

He was trembling. Eyes wide. Aroused.

She lay back on the bed. “Come jerk off. Show me what that little thing can do.”

He obeyed, pulling on himself, leaking with each stroke.

She laughed. “Think of me, stretched out on his big cock. Crying for more.”

Jim moaned.

She smirked. “Yeah baby. Cum for me. On my tummy.”

He did. A puddle of his cum appeared across her soft belly, trickling out of the end of his penis.

“Good boy,” she whispered.

He looked spent. Adoring. Like a man reborn.

She grinned. “Now lick it up.”

His eyes widened.

“You heard me. Clean up your mess. Show me you love me.”

Jim knelt, his tongue lapping his own cum off her belly, exploring her folds to get it all.

When he was done, she held out her foot.

“Massage me.”

He obeyed.

As she relaxed under his touch, she thought, Sex isn’t always about desire. Sometimes, it’s about presence. About being seen. About control.

This could work.

This could really work.


To be Continued

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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