The Weight of Want Pt. 02

Introduction:

This story is a direct continuation of the events from Weight of Want part 1. If you haven't read the first part yet, make sure to start there to fully understand the deep emotional journey, the evolving desires, and the secret cravings between Milan, Nevena, and Stefan. Their story is only getting more intense... and even more complicated.

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The morning after, the apartment felt different.

Not quieter Milan and Nevena had always shared a gentle rhythm, soft voices and slow mornings but something in the air had shifted. As though the walls themselves remembered what had happened the night before.

The sheets still smelled like sex, but not just theirs. Nevena's scent was familiar, sacred. But now it mingled with something else Stefan's cologne, his sweat, the musk of something unshakably masculine and foreign. And yet, Milan didn't change the sheets. He just sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, listening to the sound of Nevena moving in the kitchen. Her feet bare on the tiles. Humming.

She was humming.

He let out a breath, somewhere between disbelief and arousal.

It hadn't felt like cheating. Not really. But it hadn't felt like just sex either. There had been layers to last night. Things neither of them could have planned for looks exchanged, moans swallowed, the way Nevena gripped Stefan's arms like she was afraid to let go.

And Milan... the way he couldn't stop stroking himself while watching. Not even when it hurt.

He stood and padded into the kitchen, finding her in one of his t-shirts, nothing underneath. Her hair still slightly damp from a quick shower, her skin glowing. No makeup. Just her.

Nevena turned and smiled. Small, soft. And for a second, Milan saw it the difference.

Her smile wasn't shy. It wasn't reassuring. It was... content.

"Hey," she said gently, passing him a cup of coffee.

He took it, brushing her fingers with his. "Hey."

Silence fell between them, but it wasn't empty.

He stared into the steam curling up from the mug and said it before he could think better of it. "Are you okay?"

Nevena blinked. "Yeah. I mean..." She paused, cocking her head. "Are you?"

Milan met her eyes. The weight of everything passed between them in one glance.

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But I don't regret it."

Her lips parted slightly. Relief flickered across her features.

"I don't either," she whispered. "It was... more than I expected."

They sat at the kitchen table, knees brushing, hands resting palm-down on the wood like they were tethered there. Neither spoke for a while.

That week, something subtle unfolded between them.

Not distance. Not tension. But something Milan didn't have a name for.

Nevena moved through the house differently. She was more... fluid. More aware of her body, of space. Like she was newly awakened to herself.

Milan watched her from the doorway one evening her body in leggings, hair tied back, pouring wine for the two of them and wondered how long she'd been this magnetic, and how long he'd convinced himself she wasn't. Just to protect his own ego.

That night, she curled up beside him on the couch. Her head on his shoulder, her hand resting over his thigh.

"Do you keep thinking about it too?" she asked quietly, not lifting her eyes from the TV.

He turned the volume down.

"Yeah. All the time."

Nevena's fingers brushed the inside of his thigh. "I dreamt about it. About... being with him. But you were there too."

"Watching?"

"No," she murmured. "You were in my dream. But it was like... I was yours and his. At the same time."

He swallowed. "How did that feel?"

Nevena turned to look up at him. Her voice dipped. "Good. It felt like I had permission to be everything. To take everything. And still come home to you."

That hit him harder than anything else.

Not because he felt replaced but because he didn't.

Instead, he felt chosen.

In the days that followed, sex between them took on a different tone. Slower. Deeper. Sometimes they didn't even speak just let their hands explore, like they were learning each other from scratch.

Milan noticed the small things Nevena did now:

The way she rolled her hips more confidently when on top.

How she whispered filthier things, testing how far he'd let her go.

How her orgasms came harder, faster, like something had broken loose inside her and refused to be tamed.

He also noticed his own changes:

The way he didn't shrink away when he got hard and Nevena's eyes dipped down.

The way he imagined Stefan while they fucked and didn't feel ashamed.

The way he kept seeing that moment her hand around Stefan's big cock, and the way she looked at Milan after.

One afternoon, Milan caught her in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with her phone in hand, lips parted just slightly.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

Nevena looked up slowly, almost shy. "Nothing."

He smiled. "You're lying."

A pause.

"I was thinking about... messaging him."

Milan's pulse skipped. "What would you say?"

"I don't know. I just... wondered if he's been thinking about it too."

He hesitated. Then said, voice low, "I hope he has."

She smiled and put the phone down for now.

But Milan knew, deep in his chest, something was growing between them. Something dangerous, and honest, and impossibly erotic.

Not just a kink.

Not just a one-time thrill.

Something alive.

It started with a look.

A casual evening rain tapping against the windows, the soft hum of music filling their apartment. Milan sat on the couch, flipping through channels, when he noticed Nevena watching him. Really watching him. Her legs were draped over his lap, a glass of wine balanced in her hand, but her mind was somewhere else.

He could see it in her eyes dark, thoughtful, hungry.

"What?" he asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Nevena didn't answer right away. She let the silence stretch, swirling her wine like she was debating whether to speak the thought out loud.

Finally, she set the glass down and shifted, straddling his lap with slow, deliberate movements.

"I've been thinking..." she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

Milan's hands instinctively found her hips, his pulse already quickening. "About?"

Her lips curved into a wicked smile. That smile that hadn't existed not like this before Stefan.

"About how empty the bed feels without him here."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut and straight to his cock.

His breath hitched, fingers tightening on her waist. "Nevena..."

She leaned in, her lips ghosting over his ear. "Do you ever wish he was here again? Watching me... touching me... while you sit there, hard and horny?"

Milan groaned, his head falling back against the couch. The heat between them was instant, suffocating.

"Every night," he admitted, voice raw.

That was all the permission she needed.

Nevena slid off his lap, standing before him. Slowly, teasingly, she peeled off her shirt no bra beneath letting him admire the curves he knew so well but now saw through a different lens.

"Let's pretend," she murmured, her voice thick with arousal. "Pretend he's here."

Milan's mouth went dry as he watched her slip her leggings down her thighs, standing bare before him in the dim light of their living room. His cock strained against his boxers, already throbbing at the thought.

Nevena sauntered over to the armchair across from him the one Stefan had sat in that night, watching as she undressed. She draped herself over it, legs spread, fingers gliding down her stomach.

"Imagine him sitting here," she whispered, her gaze locked on Milan. " Stefan's big cock out, stroking himself while I show him what's his for the night."

Milan's hand moved to his boxers, freeing himself without shame. His heart pounded in his ears as Nevena's fingers dipped between her thighs, already glistening.

"Tell me," she breathed, her cheeks flushed, her breathing shallow. "How do you picture it?"

Milan's voice was hoarse, his fist moving slowly along his shaft. "I picture you... on your knees. Begging to taste him first. Looking up at me while his cock fills your mouth."

Nevena moaned softly, her fingers working faster. "Mmm... and you'd just watch?"

"I'd watch everything," he growled. "Watch you choke on him... watch you spread your legs for him like you did before."

Her back arched, eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself in the fantasy. "God... I loved how he felt, Milan. So thick... so heavy in my hand..."

Milan's groan was guttural. His mind flooded with images Nevena's delicate fingers struggling to wrap around Stefan's shaft, the way she'd looked back at him with awe and arousal.

"Do you think about how he stretched me?" she whispered, voice trembling with need.

"Every fucking day."

Their breaths filled the room, the only sound aside from the wet rhythm of Nevena's fingers and the slick slide of Milan's hand.

But this wasn't just about release.

It was about keeping him there keeping Stefan alive between them even when he wasn't present. The ghost of that night haunting their bodies, fueling something deeper than lust.

As Nevena's orgasm built, her gaze snapped back to Milan wild, desperate.

"Tell me you love it," she gasped. "Tell me you love watching me like this... ruined for someone else."

Milan's climax surged painfully close, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I fucking love it," he growled. "I love knowing you want it as much as I do."

Nevena cried out, her body trembling as she tipped over the edge, her back arching against the chair. Milan followed moments after, his release hot and heavy in his hand, his head falling back with a ragged breath.

Silence settled again but this time, it was charged. Fulfilled, but never fully satisfied.

Nevena stood on shaky legs, walking over and sinking into Milan's lap, her lips pressing softly to his.

"I don't think I can go back to normal," she whispered against his mouth.

Milan smiled, brushing her hair back from her flushed face.

"Good," he murmured. "I don't want normal."

They sat there for a long while, wrapped in each other, hearts still racing.

But as Nevena rested her head against his chest, her thoughts drifted.

It was one thing to pretend.

Another to relive it for real.

And that tiny, wicked spark inside her wondered just how far they could take this... if she was the one to light the next match.

The days after their roleplay were different.

It wasn't just sex it was charged. Every glance, every casual touch in the kitchen or brush of hands while watching TV carried a hidden weight, a shared secret pulsing beneath the surface.

Milan noticed it first the way Nevena would zone out during quiet moments, her teeth tugging at her lower lip in thought. Or how her phone, usually forgotten on the table, was now always within reach, her screen lighting up with messages she'd quickly swipe away.

At first, he didn't think much of it. But late one night, as they lay in bed, Nevena curled into his side and whispered:

"Do you ever... wish it wasn't just pretend our roleplay?"

The question wasn't innocent it was loaded. Milan's body reacted instantly, but his mind raced. He swallowed hard, turning to face her in the dark.

"Yeah..." he admitted, voice rough. "Every day."

Nevena's fingers traced lazy circles on his chest. She didn't say anything else that night but her silence was louder than words.

Two days later.

Nevena browsing her phone with a small, secretive smile.

Her shower taking longer than usual coming out with flushed cheeks and damp hair, avoiding his gaze.

One evening, when Milan went to grab her phone to check the time, Nevena snatched it back a little too quickly. She laughed it off, but Milan's curiosity was hooked.

Something was brewing.

And then, while folding laundry, Milan noticed a familiar name flash across Nevena's lock screen.

Stefan.

His stomach flipped.

He hadn't messaged Stefan since that night. They'd both agreed it was a one-time thing... or at least, that's what Milan thought.

Questions swirled, but a strange mix of arousal and anxiety rooted him in place.

Was Nevena... talking to him? Without telling him?

That night, he couldn't hold it in.

As they got ready for bed, Milan leaned against the doorway, watching Nevena brush her hair.

"You've been... distracted lately," he said carefully.

Nevena met his gaze in the mirror, her expression unreadable at first. Then, slowly, a knowing smile curved her lips soft, teasing, but laced with something deeper.

"I've just been... thinking," she replied, setting the brush down.

Milan stepped closer, his heart pounding not from jealousy, but from anticipation.

"Thinking about... him?"

Nevena turned to face him fully now, her eyes glinting with mischief and something darker confidence.

"Maybe."

She closed the distance between them, her hands resting on his chest.

"I know how much you loved watching me," she whispered, her voice like silk. "So I thought... why wait for you to ask?"

Milan's breath caught, his cock already stirring at the implications.

"You messaged him?" he asked, voice low.

Nevena nodded slowly, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth before whispering against his lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know what we talked about?"

Milan's knees almost buckled at the thought his sweet, shy wife, taking control... keeping secrets that turned them both on.

But Nevena didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer not yet.

She slipped past him, crawling into bed with a playful glance over her shoulder.

"Goodnight, baby."

Milan stood there, painfully hard, knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.

Because now the game had changed.

While Nevena played her quiet, secretive game, Milan found himself slipping further into obsession.

What started as the occasional video to take the edge off became a nightly ritual again. But this time, it wasn't just the standard cuckold videos he'd watched before. No, Milan's tastes evolved intensified.

He craved more.

The vanilla setups no longer satisfied that gnawing need in his gut. Now, he hunted for the extreme the raw, unfiltered content that blurred the line between fantasy and humiliation.

Live cum shows.

He found himself watching real couples stream their sessions husbands sitting useless, cocks in hand, while Bulls destroyed their wives on camera. Milan would edge himself to the brink, imagining Nevena in those women's places imagining himself on the other side of the screen, powerless but painfully aroused.

Teasing texts compilations.

He stumbled upon videos where wives read aloud messages they'd sent to their Bulls filthy, taunting words meant to remind their husbands exactly who was really satisfying them. Milan could practically hear Nevena's voice in his head, whispering those same things.

"He's so much bigger than you, baby... I could barely take him tonight."

It made his hand grip tighter, his breathing ragged as shame and lust tangled into something addictive.

Recorded calls.

Milan listened to wives calling their Bulls while their husbands listened in descriptions of what they wanted, how wet they were, how desperate they were to feel stretched again. Each moan on the line pushed Milan further into a mindset he didn't recognize anymore.

He wasn't just fantasizing.

He was living in it.

Some nights, after Nevena had fallen asleep beside him her body warm, her scent soft and inviting Milan would slip out of bed and sit in the living room, phone in hand, headphones plugged in, eyes glued to the screen.

He told himself it was harmless. That it was just porn. But deep down, he knew better.

Because every video, every whispered word, every rough thrust from a Bull into a moaning wife... it wasn't anonymous anymore.

It was Nevena.

And it was Stefan.

His cock twitched at the thought of it of Nevena sending videos to Stefan, of her recording herself moaning his name, maybe even showing Stefan how wet she got just thinking about him.

Milan couldn't stop.

By the fourth night in a row of edging himself to brutal gangbang clips and text message confessions, Milan realized something terrifying and thrilling.

He didn't just want it to happen again.

He needed it.

The idea of Nevena staying quiet, of this being a one-time adventure, felt suffocating now.

And yet... she hadn't said a word about Stefan since that teasing exchange in the bedroom. Milan was too proud or too scared to bring it up himself.

So he fed his hunger in secret, letting the glow of his screen fill the void.

But it wasn't enough.

Not anymore.

By the end of the week, Milan's fantasies were spiraling. Every glance at Nevena's phone made his heart race. Every innocent smile from her felt loaded, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

And maybe she did.

Because one night, after a particularly intense session where Milan came harder than he had in weeks his mind flooded with images of Nevena riding Stefan while texting him he stumbled back into bed, exhausted and spent.

As he pulled the covers over himself, Nevena stirred beside him.

Half-asleep, she murmured something that made Milan's blood run hot.

"Mmm... dreamed about him again."

Milan's eyes shot open his heart hammering in his chest.

She didn't say more.

She didn't need to.

Milan lay there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling with his cock already stirring again despite the ache of release.

Whatever Nevena was planning...

He knew it was only a matter of time.

Meanwhile...

Nevena noticed Milan had fallen back into his old habits but this time, it wasn't shame pulling him to late-night screens. It was need. Obsession. She'd lie beside him in bed, pretending to sleep, while the soft glow of his phone illuminated the room.

At first, curiosity kept her still.

But the first time she risked a peek cracking one eye open just enough to catch a glimpse of what he was watching her breath caught in her throat.

It wasn't just porn.

It was their fantasy.

Cuckold videos.

Hotwives stretched by Bulls with cocks too big to handle.

Women moaning, husbands panting on the sidelines.

And Milan was right there beside her his hand working his cock slowly under the covers, completely unaware that Nevena was wide awake, her panties soaked just listening to the wet sounds of his fist stroking in time with the brutal thrusts on screen.

She bit her lip to stay quiet, but inside, she was burning.

Watching Milan jerk off to the thought of her being taken like that...

It made her want to message Stefan that night.

But she didn't rush.

Instead, she decided to feed the fire in a different way.

The next evening, as they lounged on the couch, Nevena casually brought it up her tone playful, but her eyes glinting with something darker.

"You know... since we're not exactly doing again what we did with Stefan... maybe I should practice."

Milan blinked, his heart already racing. "Practice?"

She smirked, leaning in to whisper against his ear, her breath warm and teasing.

"Let's order a toy... something close to his size. You know so when it happens again... I'll be ready."

Milan's cock stirred instantly at the thought.

That night, they scrolled through websites together Nevena deliberately picking out the most intimidating dildo she could find. When the package arrived days later, it was almost comical.

Almost.

Because when Nevena unboxed it, holding the thick, veined shaft in her hands, both of them fell silent.

"It's almost like Stefan's," she murmured, her cheeks flushing but her eyes locked on Milan's reaction.

He laughed nervously part aroused, part humiliated. "It's huge..." he muttered, unable to hide the way his cock twitched in his pants.

Nevena grinned, sensing every flicker of insecurity and desire playing across his face.

"Don't worry, baby..." she cooed, stepping closer, the dildo heavy in her hand. "You'll always be my husband... but this?" She gave the toy a playful shake. "This is just... practice."

That night, everything between them sharpened their fantasies, their needs, the raw electric charge that seemed to crackle in the air.

It started slow.

Nevena, in nothing but one of Milan's old button-up shirts, crawled over the bed with a wicked gleam in her eyes. In one hand, she held the thick dildo slick and heavy. In the other, she reached for Milan's cock, already half-hard from nothing but her gaze alone.

"Look at this, baby..." she whispered, her voice low and dangerous as she pressed the fat silicone shaft alongside his aching length.

Milan swallowed thickly.

The difference was undeniable the toy looked obscene next to him, thicker, longer, more intimidating in every way. His cock flushed angrily in her hand, hard and twitching, but still... smaller. Delicate, compared to the monster she held so casually.

Milan's chest tightened. Shame and arousal collided violently inside him, making his head swim.

Nevena noticed the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes darted away but she didn't let go. She kissed a slow, burning trail along his jawline, her voice soft but firm against his skin.

"I know it's a lot," she murmured, stroking both shafts side by side, "but I love both... you know that, right?"

Her words, sweet and cruel all at once, made his hips jerk helplessly into her fist.

He nodded, unable to find words, heat flooding his face.

And then without warning she dropped between his legs, her mouth wrapping around his cock in one smooth, wet motion.

Milan's head fell back with a guttural moan.

She sucked him with slow, devastating precision no hesitation, no struggle. Her lips sealed around him completely, her tongue swirling, teasing the sensitive underside.

It was effortless for her now.

All that practice all that training and now, Milan's cock fit her mouth like a familiar toy.

The realization made him shudder with pleasure and embarrassment all at once.

Just as he felt the heat begin to coil low in his belly, ready to explode, Nevena pulled off with a lewd pop. Her lips were swollen, glistening with spit. She smirked up at him, wicked and knowing.

"Not yet, baby..." she teased, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of wetness across her cheek.

She turned her attention back to the dildo.

Slowly, almost tauntingly, she licked the thick shaft trying to mimic what she had just done to him. Her mouth stretched indecently around the toy, her jaw trembling as she pushed herself further.

Barely halfway down, she gagged and pulled off with a choked gasp, eyes watering slightly.

"God, it's so big..." she whispered, her voice dripping with arousal and frustration. She wiped her mouth again, glancing at Milan through heavy-lidded eyes.

Milan's cock jumped at the sight, at her words, at the helpless way she wanted it and struggled with it.

He was dizzy with need.

But Nevena wasn't done.

She clambered back onto the bed, breathless, cheeks flushed, her thighs slick with arousal. She positioned the dildo upright on the bed between them, her hands steady despite her obvious excitement.

"What if I ride this..." she purred, lowering herself into a straddle, her body trembling with anticipation, "while I make you cum?"

Milan groaned, the sound torn straight from his chest.

"Yes... please..." he panted, desperate, enthralled.

Nevena smiled wickedly.

She hovered over the toy, guiding it to her dripping entrance, and slowly agonizingly slowly she sank down onto it.

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as the thick shaft stretched her inch by inch, forcing her walls wide.

The moment she bottomed out, she whimpered a sound so raw and real Milan thought he might cum untouched.

She rocked her hips gently, adjusting, teasing herself with the fullness. Her free hand reached for Milan's cock again, wrapping him in her slick, practiced grip.

Their connection was filthy, beautiful, unbearable.

"Ask me, baby..." she breathed, hips rolling, her eyes half-closed in bliss. "Ask me how it feels."

"H-How does it feel?" Milan rasped, barely able to form the words.

Nevena's laugh was broken and breathless.

"So full..." she moaned, circling her hips in slow, obscene motions. "God, baby... it's stretching me so much... just like Stefan did..."

Milan almost blacked out from the intensity of it the confession, the image, the way she was training herself right in front of him, preparing her body for something bigger, better.

Her hand stroked him harder now, in rhythm with the bounce of her hips.

His cock pulsed in her grip, leaking helplessly as she moaned and rode the toy with growing abandon.

Nevena was a mess sweaty, gasping, grinding her clit against the base of the dildo as she chased her orgasm.

And when it hit it hit hard.

She cried out his name, nails digging into his thigh, her whole body seizing up around the massive toy buried inside her.

The sound, the sight, the smell of her it shattered what little control Milan had left.

He came violently, hot and messy, shooting across Nevena's face and chest in thick spurts.

But even as his orgasm wrecked him, Nevena didn't stop.

She kept riding the toy, chasing another wave, addicted to the feeling of being filled, stretched beyond her limits.

Milan could only watch in stunned awe cock twitching weakly, heart hammering as Nevena collapsed beside him at last, utterly spent, glowing with satisfaction and pride.

She kissed his jaw lazily, smiling as she whispered:

"See, baby...? You're perfect for me. But sometimes... sometimes I just need a bit more."

Milan shivered at the truth of it a truth that didn't hurt him anymore.

It set him on fire.

As they lay there, the toy discarded beside them, Nevena turned her head, a lazy smile on her lips.

"We're definitely going to do that night again... aren't we?"

Milan didn't trust his voice he just nodded, his heart still racing.

Because after tonight, there was no denying it.

They weren't just playing anymore.

They were waiting for the real thing.

And both of them knew it.

(A Week Later...)

The days that followed blurred into a steady rhythm work, dinners, soft kisses, shared looks that lingered a little too long. But beneath the surface of their quiet domestic life, something far more primal was brewing.

Nevena found herself craving the toy more than she expected.

At first, it had been playful a way to tease Milan, to keep the fantasy alive between real encounters. But now? Now, every time she touched the thick silicone shaft, something inside her shifted.

It wasn't just for Milan anymore.

It was for her.

The stretch. The fullness. The way her legs trembled after riding it too hard.

The way her body ached when she didn't.

She told herself it was training staying ready for when they called someone again. That's what Milan wanted, right? But the more she pressed her hips back against the toy, the more she realized...

She liked needing more.

And it thrilled her to know Milan loved watching her fall deeper into that need.

It was a Friday evening when Milan saw just how far Nevena had gone.

He came home early from work, the apartment quiet except for the faint sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Dropping his keys silently, he moved toward the sound, already loosening his tie expecting to find Nevena mid-shower.

But what he heard stopped him cold.

Soft moans muffled but unmistakable mixed with the rhythmic slap of skin against silicone.

His heart pounded as he edged closer, the bathroom door slightly ajar, steam curling out into the hallway. Through the gap, he caught a glimpse that nearly made his knees buckle.

Nevena.

Naked, dripping wet, one hand braced against the tiled wall while her hips rolled back onto the massive dildo suction-cupped at just the right height. Her moans were breathy, desperate nothing like the controlled, teasing sounds she usually made for him.

This was raw. Real.

But that wasn't all.

Her phone was propped up on the sink, camera pointed directly at her recording every filthy second. Milan's eyes widened as he watched her glance back at the lens, lips parted in a sultry smile before leaning forward to suck the head of the dildo between thrusts, strings of spit glistening against her chin.

Milan's cock was instantly rock hard, throbbing against his pants.

He didn't dare interrupt.

Instead, he slid his zipper down, freeing himself as quietly as possible. Leaning against the hallway wall, he wrapped his fist around his length, stroking in time with the sounds of her pleasure the wet slap of her ass meeting the toy, the whimpering gasps as she pushed herself further, deeper.

Inside the bathroom, Nevena's mind was a haze of lust.

"Just for Milan..." she told herself at first, biting her lip as she worked her hips. "This is what he wants..."

But the more the thick toy stretched her, the more that excuse crumbled.

No.

This was for her, too.

She loved how it felt the fullness, the slight burn when she took too much, the way her legs quivered when she bottomed out. And knowing she was recording it? That somewhere in the back of her mind, these videos could end up on Stefan's phone one day?

That thought alone pushed her closer to the edge.

Outside, Milan's breathing grew heavier, his strokes faster as he watched his wife lose herself on a toy nearly as big as Stefan. Every moan from her lips, every smack of flesh against silicone, fed the fire in his belly.

His thoughts raced:

"She's getting addicted to this... God, she looks so happy like that... Is she thinking about Stefan right now? Is she imagining it's him? Or... is she imagining me watching her like this?"

The moment Nevena's moans pitched higher, her body shaking as orgasm rippled through her, Milan couldn't hold back. His cock throbbed violently in his hand, ropes of cum spilling onto the hardwood floor just as Nevena collapsed forward against the tiles, panting under the stream of hot water.

That's when she heard it the soft, breathless groan from just outside the door.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide as realization dawned.

"Milan...?" she called out, her voice still shaky from aftershocks.

A beat of silence then Milan cleared his throat, already tucking himself back into his pants, forcing his voice to sound casual.

"Just got home, baby!" he called from down the hall, stepping away like nothing had happened. "I'll start dinner, alright?"

Nevena blinked, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her flushed face.

"Okay, honey!" she called back, biting her lip as she glanced at her phone still recording, still capturing every glistening inch of the dildo buried inside her.

She finished her shower with a lazy satisfaction, her mind racing with ideas because if Milan had seen that and said nothing, it meant he wanted more.

Dinner that night was filled with playful glances and unspoken tension.

Milan acted like everything was normal asking about her day, passing the salt, pretending his mind wasn't replaying the image of his wife fucking herself in the shower.

Nevena, meanwhile, savored every second of his awkwardness her toes brushing against his leg under the table, her eyes glinting with mischief.

When they finally crawled into bed, neither of them mentioned what had happened.

But as Nevena curled into Milan's side, her hand resting casually over his chest, she whispered just enough to make his cock twitch again.

"Sweet dreams, baby... maybe tomorrow I'll show you what I recorded today."

Milan swallowed hard, his heart racing all over again.

Because he knew just as well as she did that they were both feeding a fire that wasn't going to burn out anytime soon.

Afternoon Tease and Evening Reward...

The day was dragging mercilessly at the office. Milan sat hunched at his desk, eyes glazing over spreadsheets, the low buzz of chatter and the clacking of keyboards lulling him into a slow, half-alive trance. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up. Routine had dulled his senses until his phone buzzed sharply against the desk.

He blinked down at it.

And then froze.

A message from Nevena.

He opened it under the desk, pretending to scratch his leg.

It was a photo and it hit him like a freight train.

Nevena, nude, in their bathroom. Crouched on the shower floor, the dildo she sticked to the wall towering over her. She had her mouth open beneath it, tongue stretched out, ready to taste the thick rubber head. Her fingers gripped its base like it was real, like it was him.

Caption: How's work, baby? ????

Milan's heart slammed into his ribs. His cock twitched violently inside his slacks, stiffening in an instant.

Fuck.

He looked around quickly colleagues were absorbed in their screens, oblivious to the flush of red creeping up Milan's neck. Swallowing hard, he slipped his hand under the desk and texted back carefully:

"You're going to kill me. I'm at work, babe."

But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the image burned into his mind the hungry look in her eyes, the slickness of her tongue.

Meanwhile, back home, Nevena was sprawled across their bed, Milan's laptop open next to her. She had spent the late morning exploring the depths of his bookmarked porn, carefully noting the scenes he had saved: rough, gagging blowjobs, girls riding oversized toys, wives being stretched by monstrous cocks while husbands watched helplessly.

She wasn't angry.

She was intrigued.

And wet.

Nevena slid two fingers into her soaked pussy as she watched the videos, the moans from the laptop mixing with the quiet squelch of her fingers moving inside her. Her other hand slid lower to her clit, teasing in lazy circles.

That's when the wicked idea struck.

The shower pic the teasing.

She wanted to see him squirm at work. Wanted to know he was sitting there stiff and throbbing, helpless to do anything about it. She loved that power.

When Milan's first reply came through, cautious but strained, it made her smirk devilishly.

She texted again, slow and teasing:

"Bet you're hard under that desk now. Want another one?"

Milan bit down a groan, adjusting himself beneath the desk with careful, hidden movements. His cock throbbed against his underwear, stiff and leaking.

He typed back hastily, his thumb trembling:

"Yes. But fuck, Nevena... someone could walk by. I can't even stand up like this."

Nevena giggled quietly to herself.

Perfect.

She went to her gallery and selected a short clip from that same shower session a short video of her on all fours, water cascading down her back, moaning softly as she rocked back onto the thick dildo stuck to the tiles. The view was explicit: her ass bouncing, the toy stretching her open, her hand between her thighs to rub her clit.

She sent it.

Buzz.

Milan opened the video under his desk, heart hammering against his ribs. His erection pressed painfully against his slacks. Every wet slap of skin, every breathy moan, made it harder to pretend he was working.

The video ended, and he slumped back in his chair, dazed.

He wanted to unzip his pants and stroke himself desperately but he couldn't. He couldn't risk it.

Another message came through.

"Ever fantasize about me with another cock while i text you?"

"Want to see me swallow it as much as i can?"

"Think this toy's too big for me... or you want to see me stretch even more?"

Each message had a tiny video clip: Nevena gagging herself on the dildo, or holding it against her mouth to show how thick it was compared to her lips, or riding it fiercely with her tits bouncing and her cries muffled by the rush of shower water.

Milan was dying.

Dying and euphoric.

He texted back in frantic bursts between sneaking looks around the office:

"God, yes. You're perfect." "Your pussy's looks amazing like that." "Stretch it, baby.

Nevena lay sprawled on the bed, lazily rubbing her clit while sending him more torment.

She sent him a final comparison pic the thick dildo lying across her stomach, stretching from her belly button down toward her mound, dwarfing her delicate frame.

Then she typed:

"Imagine me riding this all day... dripping and stretched out... thinking about you."

By now, Milan's cock was painfully hard, his pants stained with pre-cum, and the hours left in his shift stretched like torture.

He barely survived it.

When Milan finally stepped through the front door, still half-hard from the endless teasing Nevena had poured into his workday, he found her waiting for him.

Not kneeling yet not yet.

Instead, she stood casually in the living room, leaning against the back of the couch in just a loose, oversized shirt. Her legs were bare underneath, the shirt barely covering her soft curves. She smiled at him, that slow, knowing smile that told him he wasn't going to get much rest tonight.

"Hey, baby," she purred, pushing herself off the couch and sauntering toward him, hips swaying lazily.

Milan dropped his briefcase by the door and tugged at his collar, already feeling the heat rise under his skin. He was exhausted from the workday but wired from arousal. She walked straight into his space, standing so close that he could feel the warmth radiating off her.

"I had a... productive afternoon," she whispered, brushing her fingers lightly up his chest.

"Oh?" Milan rasped, voice rough from anticipation.

She grabbed his hand and guided him to sit on the couch. He sank into the cushions, eyes locked on her as she climbed onto the floor between his legs, settling on her knees like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I might've borrowed your laptop," she said, fingers teasing along the inside of his thighs. "Did some... research."

Milan's heart hammered. His mouth went dry.

Nevena giggled at his expression, biting her lip.

"I looked at your bookmarks," she whispered, drawing slow circles with her nails on his denim-clad thighs. "Watched some of those videos you saved. God, baby... the things you get off to..."

He felt his face heat up, a mixture of embarrassment and pride swirling inside him.

"And then," she continued, voice dropping even lower, "I got so fucking wet watching them that I had to touch myself. That's why I took those little videos for you."

Her hands crept higher, brushing over the growing bulge straining against his pants.

"Did you like getting them, baby?" she asked sweetly, resting her cheek against his thigh, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes that contrasted deliciously with the dirty words pouring from her mouth.

"I fuck, yes, I loved them," Milan groaned, hips shifting involuntarily under her touch. "You have no idea what you did to me today..."

"Oh, I think I do," she said, her fingers working his belt open with practiced ease.

She tugged down his zipper, and with a wicked grin, pulled out his cock, already rock-hard and twitching from anticipation. She wrapped her hand around the base and gave it a slow, firm pump, smiling as she watched his hips jerk at the contact.

"You poor thing," she cooed. "All hard and needy all day long because of me."

Milan just let out a ragged breath, head tipping back against the couch.

And then she dipped her head and swallowed him.

Her lips wrapped around him in a smooth, sinful glide that made him shudder. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue tracing circles around the sensitive underside of his cock as she sucked him deep.

Milan moaned, low and helpless, fingers digging into the couch cushions.

Nevena bobbed her head slowly at first, building a rhythm, using one hand to jerk him off at the base while her mouth worked the rest. Every wet slurp, every soft moan around his shaft sent electric shocks of pleasure through him.

She was better at it than she'd ever been before.

Way better.

Her mouth and hands moved in perfect coordination, no gagging, no struggling just relentless, focused pleasure. Milan's mind spun, overwhelmed by how good it felt, how easy she made it seem to suck him down deep.

And then just when he thought he couldn't be any more wrecked she pulled back with a loud, wet pop, grinning up at him devilishly.

"You know what's funny, baby?" she teased, stroking him slowly, letting her saliva make everything slick and obscene. "My jaw was so sore earlier... after practicing with that big dildo."

She brought her other hand up and mimed gripping something far wider than Milan's shaft.

"That dildo? I need both hands just to stroke it. Both. And even then, I can't cover all of it. I have to stretch my mouth so wide it makes my throat ache."

Milan flushed, breathing hard, cock twitching desperately in her grip.

"And now..." she purred, stroking his cock lovingly, squeezing just right, "after training on that monster... you feel so easy. So manageable."

Her voice dropped to a filthy, affectionate whisper:

"I can take you all the way down, baby. So easy now... you're my perfect little mouthful."

Milan felt shame and pride crash together inside him his mind screaming humiliation while his cock throbbed harder than ever from the arousal.

And Nevena knew it.

She milked it.

Literally.

She lowered her head again, sucking him with renewed hunger, using just one hand to twist at the base while her mouth bobbed relentlessly up and down his shaft. She moaned around him, the vibrations shooting straight through his body.

He was close. So close.

Between the filthy words, the mental image of her choking on the dildo earlier, the raw love in her eyes as she worked him over it was too much.

His hips bucked and he came, hard, spilling into her eager mouth.

Nevena swallowed every drop, licking her lips clean as she grinned up at him like a good girl who had just been praised.

Milan slumped back on the couch, utterly drained, dazed by the intensity of it all.

She kissed his spent cock softly, lovingly, before tucking him back into his pants.

"Good boy," she whispered again, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

Milan couldn't even move he just smiled stupidly, basking in the afterglow.

As he drifted into sleep on the couch, Nevena leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"I'm just going to take a quick shower before bed," she said sweetly.

Milan mumbled something incoherent in response, already half-asleep.

He didn't even question it.

But Nevena knew.

As she slipped into the bathroom and quietly closed the door, she knew exactly what she wanted.

She wasn't just going to shower.

She was going to ride that thick dildo again already craving the stretch, the fullness, the practice and the growing hunger she couldn't deny anymore.

And Milan, sweet, blissed-out Milan, would never know.

Not tonight.

The next morning, Milan woke up groggy but satisfied, the memory of Nevena's sinful mouth still lingering warmly in his mind. He stumbled into the kitchen to find her already making coffee, humming softly to herself, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts.

She smiled sweetly at him over her shoulder like any loving wife would as if she hadn't just drained him dry the night before while whispering dirty comparisons between his cock and a massive dildo into his ear.

Milan's heart swelled with love, but somewhere deeper, darker, a pulse of raw lust still throbbed quietly. He couldn't forget how she had smiled while talking about how easy he felt compared to the toy. How natural, how hungry she had seemed when she described it. It stayed with him, coloring the way he looked at her all morning.

And Nevena?

She was riding a high of her own.

In the shower the night before after leaving Milan blissed out on the couch she had mounted the dildo again. Harder this time. Needier. She lost herself completely in the raw stretch, grinding until her thighs trembled, biting her lip to keep her cries quiet.

It wasn't just about training anymore.

It was addiction.

The toy filled something inside her something Milan could never quite reach and it thrilled and scared her at the same time. Not because she didn't love her husband. She did. Fiercely.

But because she wanted both. She wanted Milan's love, his soft adoration, his ownership...

And she also craved being stretched, stuffed, overpowered in ways that only the brutal size of that toy and maybe Stefan's real cock could offer.

Nevena stirred her coffee absentmindedly, glancing at Milan over the rim of her mug.

She loved him too much to lie.

She loved this game they were playing.

Loved the way it fed both their darkest, most secret needs.

And now... she was ready to take it even further.

Later that afternoon, while Milan was back at work, she decided it was time.

Nevena sat cross-legged on their bed, phone in hand, scrolling through old messages.

Her heart raced as she hesitated over Stefan's number.

She hadn't contacted him since that night. Since the night they had crossed a line no one could uncross.

But now... she was wet just thinking about it.

About reaching out. About taking charge.

About showing Milan she didn't just indulge his fantasies she wanted them.

She wanted more.

Nevena bit her lip, fingers hovering over the screen for a long moment before typing:

"Hey, Stefan... Thinking about you today. ???? Would love to catch up soon. Just you and me. ????"

She stared at the message, heart hammering.

Then she hit send.

A rush of adrenaline flooded her body excitement, guilt, lust all twisted into a dizzying cocktail.

Almost immediately, Stefan responded:

"Mmm. I was wondering when you'd text me again, beautiful. Tell me what you have in mind..."

Nevena swallowed thickly, cheeks flushing, thighs clenching.

Because she knew exactly what she wanted.

And it would be something Milan would never forget.

That night at dinner, Nevena acted normal sweet, affectionate, the perfect wife.

Milan smiled across the table at her, completely oblivious to the fact that his wife had already taken the next step in the fantasy they had built together.

And soon...

He wouldn't just be imagining her riding something bigger.

He would be watching it happen again.

In real time.

Raw, wild, and undeniable.

And he wouldn't be alone this time.

Because Nevena wanted him to feel every second of it from the first kiss to the last moan.

This was no longer just about teasing.

It was about surrendering completely.

The sun barely filtered through the curtains when Nevena stirred in bed.

Milan's soft breathing beside her was steady, peaceful. She smiled faintly, heart swelling with love. Their night had been perfect hot, messy, intimate. She had given him everything he needed, swallowing his cum like a good wife, leaving him melted into the couch with a lazy, satisfied grin.

But now...

Now a different hunger twisted low in her belly.

Quietly, careful not to wake Milan, Nevena reached for her phone on the nightstand. Her heart thumped as she unlocked it, thumb hovering for a moment before tapping open the chat with Stefan.

The memory of yesterday's message exchange rushed back: how easily Stefan had responded. How confident, how eager.

Nevena bit her lip, nerves and arousal tangling inside her, then typed slowly:

"Good morning, Stefan... I can't stop thinking about you. ☀️????"

Her thumb lingered over the send button.

Once more, a flicker of guilt brushed her but it wasn't enough to stop her.

Because deep down, she knew this wasn't betrayal.

This was feeding something they had both asked for.

She pressed send.

Stefan was still lying in bed himself, one arm thrown lazily over the sheets, scrolling aimlessly through his phone when the notification popped up.

His body tensed immediately.

Nevena.

The wife who had looked so sweet and shy that night... the wife who had gasped at the first sight of his cock... the wife who had wrapped her delicate fingers around him while her husband sat there, flushed and helpless.

He grinned wickedly, his cock twitching to life under the covers.

She's thinking about me.

He opened the message, heart pounding slightly in anticipation, and quickly typed back:

"Mmm. I can't get you out of my head either, gorgeous. What are you thinking about?"

He sent it and tossed his phone onto the bed beside him, letting his mind spin out possibilities.

She was the type he craved: loyal, devoted to her husband, but burning underneath with a need for something more.

Stefan wasn't just going to take her.

He was going to help her unlock everything she was too scared to admit she wanted.

Back in her kitchen, Nevena padded barefoot across the tiles, phone clutched in her hand, feeling like a teenager sneaking around. She poured herself coffee, heart hammering as Stefan's reply lit up her screen.

She sat down at the table, curling one leg beneath her, and answered:

"I'm thinking about how much I teased Milan yesterday... ????"

Another message, faster this time, her pulse racing:

"I made him cum so hard after I compared your cock to his... he could barely move afterward. I loved seeing him so happy... and so helpless."

She pressed her thighs together unconsciously, heat blooming between them.

Stefan replied almost instantly:

"Good girl. You're taking care of him and driving him crazy at the same time."

The praise made Nevena shiver.

She sipped her coffee with trembling fingers, then kept going, needing to say more:

"We're good, you know. Our marriage... it's stronger than ever. He's happy. I'm happy."

She hesitated for a second, then added:

"But I want to take it a step further... maybe tease him a little harder. Maybe go out for a drink with you sometime. Take some pics. Send them to him while he's stuck at work, missing me. ????????????"

Nevena hit send before she could overthink it.

She bit her lip hard, heart slamming in her chest, waiting.

Stefan's answer came slower this time as if he was savoring it:

"Fuck, Nevena. That's evil. And so goddamn hot. I want you dressed up for me... smiling for the camera... making him wonder how far you're willing to go while he's helpless to stop it."

"You'd do that? Send him photos of you and me... while he's stuck watching from a distance?"

Nevena flushed deeply, the images burning into her mind herself in a short, tight dress, Stefan's arm around her waist, their bodies pressed close at a bar, smiles too wide, eyes too dark.

Her fingers shook slightly as she typed:

"I'd do it. I want to. I want to see how crazy I can drive him. For both of us."

The truth was even more dangerous than she dared to admit.

It wasn't just for Milan anymore.

She wanted it, too.

The thrill, the risk, the feeling of power and surrender twisted together into something she couldn't resist.

She sipped her coffee again, grinning to herself as her mind raced ahead

Planning outfits.

Imagining photos.

Wondering how long Milan could hold out before begging her to come home... or begging her to go even further.

And Nevena couldn't wait to see how far she and Milan could be pushed.

The rest of the morning passed slowly.

Nevena couldn't wipe the sly little smile off her face as she lounged around the apartment, texting back and forth with Stefan.

The conversation was filthier now, more playful, with him throwing suggestions she couldn't help but bite at and still, she kept herself grounded.

This wasn't just random sexting.

This was a plan.

But before anything real could happen, she needed to be smart.

She needed to know when Milan would be at work, distracted, unreachable and most importantly, when he wouldn't suspect a thing.

That afternoon, when Milan came home for lunch, the apartment smelled like roasted chicken and fresh bread. Nevena greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, casual and sweet, and set down a plate in front of him like nothing in the world was wrong.

She was perfect at it normal. Domestic.

His Nevena.

And as they ate, she leaned forward slightly, twirling her fork between her fingers, voice syrupy casual:

"Baby, what shifts are you working this week? Anything late?"

Milan chewed, swallowing, then shrugged.

"Mmm, yeah. Wednesday night I'm closing. Late shift. I probably won't be home until after midnight. Why?"

"You missing me already?" he teased, winking at her.

Nevena laughed, her heart thudding against her ribs relief flooding her.

Wednesday. Perfect.

She tilted her head sweetly, putting on her best innocent act.

"I just wanted to know what time you'll be home so I can plan dinner... or maybe bake something. You know, keep it ready for when you get back. Can't let my hardworking husband starve."

She batted her lashes dramatically.

Milan chuckled, completely disarmed, lifting his fork at her in mock accusation.

"Since when do you interrogate me just to plan dinner, huh?"

"What are you up to, little devil?"

Nevena just smiled wider, patting his hand gently.

"Nothing! I'm just being a good wife. Stop being so suspicious."

He snorted, leaned back in his chair, and stretched with a lazy grin.

"Fine, fine. Wednesday late. You better save me some dessert."

"Oh," Nevena purred under her breath, so soft he barely caught it,

"I plan to."

Her fingers brushed his arm innocently but inside, she was buzzing.

Because while Milan had been thinking about roast chicken and maybe some cookies waiting at home after his shift,

Nevena was already picturing herself in a tight black dress, sitting at a low-lit bar next to Stefan, legs crossed, cocktail glass in hand...

Snapping little secret photos.

Sliding them across the screen to Milan while he sat trapped at his desk, aching and helpless.

Maybe even sending him a little video her laughing too close to Stefan's ear, pretending to 'accidentally' show a little too much skin.

And she knew Milan would burn with it.

Jealousy. Lust. Pride.

All of it, tangled into one delicious knot.

She finished her lunch humming to herself, cleaning up plates, nodding along to Milan's rambling about office politics.

He had no idea.

He didn't know he'd just given her the opening she needed.

And Nevena?

She was already planning what lingerie she'd wear under that dress...

Just in case the night got even more interesting.

That same evening, after Milan dozed off for a short nap before his shift, Nevena slipped into the bedroom with her phone in hand. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, heart racing, before she opened Stefan's chat.

She bit her lip, nervous but so thrillingly alive.

Finally, she typed:

Nevena:

"Hey you... ???? You busy Wednesday night?"

The message hung there for a few minutes, and she almost closed the app, feeling foolish.

But then

Bzzzt.

A reply.

Stefan:

"For you? Never too busy. ????

What's on your dirty little mind?"

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

God, Stefan didn't hold back.

Nevena:

"Milan's working late.

Thought maybe... we could go for a drink. Maybe send him a few naughty surprises. ????"

This time Stefan's response was nearly instant:

Stefan:

"Fuck. Are you serious?

You want to tease him while you're out with me?"

Nevena:

"I do.

I want him to see how good I look next to you.

Make him think about what he's missing... while I'm sitting right next to you."

She paused before sending the next part, her fingers trembling slightly:

Nevena:

"And maybe... if you're lucky... we'll make even more memories for him to watch later."

The dots danced Stefan typing, stopping, typing again.

Finally:

Stefan:

"Fuck, Nevena.

Ok. I'll pick a place. Somewhere dark. Intimate. Where you can whisper in my ear all the things you're doing to Milan without even touching him."

The way he wrote it possessive, dominant made her thighs clench together.

This was real now.

Nevena leaned back against the headboard, chest rising and falling faster.

Her mind spun with possibilities.

She pictured it vividly:

A sleek black dress clinging to her curves.

Sitting across from Stefan, nursing a drink, letting her hand drift slowly across the table to touch his.

Sending Milan secret pictures under the table

a glimpse of thigh, a sultry look, a snapshot of her fingers grazing Stefan's knee.

Maybe even a short video clip her laughing too close to Stefan's lips, their faces inches apart.

And Milan...

Stuck at work.

Hard. Helpless. Burning up in jealousy and need.

The thought made her dizzy with excitement.

Meanwhile, back on his side of town, Stefan leaned back on his couch, staring at Nevena's messages with a hard-on tenting his shorts.

He hadn't expected this.

Sure, he enjoyed that first night, fucking with Milan's head, making Nevena squirm.

But now?

Now it was a game they were all playing.

And he liked playing dirty.

He tossed back a drink, smirking to himself, already planning what he'd wear.

Already picturing how good Nevena would look standing next to him

and how much she would need Milan watching, needing, aching for something he couldn't quite touch.

This wasn't just about cock size anymore.

It was about power.

And he planned to enjoy every second of it.

That night, as Milan headed off to work, Nevena kissed him goodbye sweetly at the door, her body soft and warm in his arms.

"Have a good shift, baby," she whispered against his neck.

"I'll be waiting when you get home."

He smiled, squeezing her waist, totally unaware of the secret fire she was holding behind her dark, innocent eyes.

The evening came faster than Nevena expected.

She stood alone in the bedroom, the soft golden light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow over her bare skin.

Her heart was hammering from nerves, excitement, guilt, desire all tangled together in a knot that tightened with every passing minute.

On the bed lay her chosen outfit.

A simple, dangerous black dress.

Tight enough to show every curve.

Short enough that bending over would be a sin.

No stockings. No frills.

Just smooth, bare legs the way Milan always loved them.

And beneath the dress?

Just a tiny black thong.

Nothing else.

She wanted to feel exposed. Vulnerable. Naughty.

Nevena sat down at the vanity mirror, taking slow, measured breaths as she worked.

She pulled her dark hair into a high, sleek ponytail, letting a few strands frame her face polished but casual, sexy but effortless.

Mascara thickened her lashes until they were long, dark fans.

A single line of black eyeliner sharpened her already hypnotic gaze.

And on her lips a bold, deep red lipstick, glossy and wicked.

She leaned closer to the mirror, tilting her head, examining herself critically.

Would Milan approve?

Would Stefan?

The thought made her thighs press together involuntarily.

Her phone buzzed softly on the vanity.

A text from Stefan.

Stefan:

"Leaving in 9.

Wear something that makes me regret being a gentleman. ????"

She smiled a real, wicked smile and tucked the phone between her thighs for a moment while she finished dressing.

Sliding the black dress over her hips felt illegal.

The fabric clung like a second skin, molding to the soft flare of her ass, the gentle swell of her breasts.

When she turned and looked at herself in the mirror fully dressed, she hardly recognized the woman staring back.

Bold. Ready. Dangerous.

And doing it all while her loving husband was texting her sweet, naive messages from his break at work, thinking she was curled up at home, planning dinner.

Her heart squeezed a little.

This wasn't about hurting Milan.

This was about feeding them both.

Feeding the monster they'd awakened together.

Feeding the marriage with something raw and dark and new.

Nevena grabbed her small purse, tucked a fresh tube of lipstick inside, and took one last photo for Stefan just a mirror selfie:

The dress.

The hair.

The red lips parted just slightly, like an invitation.

Captioned simply:

Nevena:

"On my way."

She hesitated, then sent another message this time to Milan, still at work:

Nevena:

"Dinner plans changed a little, baby.

Can't wait to see you later. ❤️"

She slipped on her heels, checked herself once more heart hammering and headed out the door into the warm Belgrade night.

The city buzzed softly around her.

And for the first time, Nevena wasn't just going out for a drink.

She was stepping into a fantasy they had both created

One secret smile, one wicked touch, one dirty photo at a time.

Drinks, Deception, and Desire...

The bar was tucked away on a quiet Belgrade side street, dimly lit and humming with low music.

The kind of place that smelled like old leather, polished wood, and secrets.

Nevena slipped inside, her heels clicking softly on the floor, and immediately spotted Stefan.

He was sitting casually at the bar, a beer in one hand, wearing dark jeans and a crisp black shirt with the top buttons undone.

Effortless. Confident. Relaxed.

When he looked up and saw her, his lips curled into a slow, appreciative grin the kind of grin that stripped her bare without a single touch.

"Wow," Stefan said, standing to greet her, his eyes dragging slowly down her body.

"You're gonna get me into trouble tonight, aren't you?"

Nevena laughed, cheeks flushing with heat.

"Maybe just a little," she teased, settling onto the stool beside him.

At first, it was easy.

Safe.

They talked like old friends about everything and nothing.

Work. The weather. Movies. Joking, sipping drinks slowly.

But the longer they sat, the lower Stefan's voice dipped.

The closer his body leaned toward hers.

And the more Nevena felt the buzz of tension under her skin electric, undeniable, dangerous.

Eventually, Stefan's hand brushed lightly over her knee casual, almost accidental but her breath hitched anyway.

Their conversation shifted.

First, joking about relationships.

Then... about sex.

About fantasies.

About the things normal couples kept hidden behind bedroom doors.

Stefan asked questions softly, almost lazily.

"So," he said, swirling his glass. "You and Milan... you really into this now? You like being... watched?"

Nevena laughed lightly, a little breathless.

"Maybe more than I thought I would."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling suddenly exposed in the crowded room even though no one else knew what they were really talking about.

Stefan smiled wider.

Dangerously.

"And Milan? He's okay with sharing such a beautiful wife?"

Nevena tilted her head coyly.

"He's more than okay. He loves it.

Even if it drives him a little crazy."

Stefan chuckled low in his throat.

"Good. I like when husbands watch."

The way he said it made Nevena's thighs press together under the bar.

God, what was happening to her?

Right then, her phone buzzed in her clutch.

Milan:

"Hey baby. Hope you're having a good time.

Love you. ❤️"

Nevena smiled, heart fluttering.

She felt a twinge of guilt quick, sharp but she also felt something else.

Power.

She was sitting at a bar with a man who wanted her.

While her husband, sweet and trusting, sent her love notes from work.

Stefan noticed the way she blushed and leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"Text him," he whispered.

"Send him something innocent. For now."

Nevena hesitated.

Then pulled her phone out slowly, as if her hands weren't quite her own.

She snapped a photo just her cocktail glass, her fingers delicately holding the stem, the curve of her bare thigh barely visible in the background.

Nevena:

"Having a drink. ???? Miss you. ❤️"

And she hit send.

Across the city, Milan stared at his phone.

The first few seconds were fine.

He smiled automatically. She looked gorgeous, even in just that tiny glimpse.

But then something gnawed at him.

Was that a... man's jacket sleeve just barely visible in the blurry background?

His chest tightened.

No. He was imagining things.

Still, unease pooled in his stomach.

He tapped back a quick reply:

Milan:

"Miss you too. Who you with, where are you?"

Nevena smirked at her screen.

She leaned in, brushing her hair off her shoulder a movement Stefan caught with his sharp eyes and typed back:

Nevena:

"Just a friend from high school. Nothing exciting. Promise. ❤️"

Milan's stomach flipped.

He wanted to believe her.

Of course he did.

But something about the casual way she said it the teasing smile in the picture made a dark, heavy pulse throb low in his gut.

He felt an uncomfortable, confusing tightness growing in his cock.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Am I... getting hard?

He shifted uncomfortably at his desk, his jeans straining against his sudden erection.

Confusion warred with jealousy.

Jealousy wrestled with excitement.

Excitement tangled with shame.

He typed again:

Milan:

"You're being weird tonight?"

Nevena bit her lip.

She tilted her phone discreetly under the table and snapped another quick shot this time of the tops of her bare thighs, her dress riding scandalously high on her hips.

Nevena:

"Maybe just a little weird hehe.

But you like it when I'm bad, don't you? ????"

When Milan saw the new picture, his hands clenched the edge of his desk.

He looked around wildly, making sure no one noticed him turning pale, then flushed red.

Fuck.

Fuck.

She was teasing him.

She was out there legs bare, dressed to kill while he sat here helpless, hard as stone, desperate for more.

Another message pinged.

Nevena:

"Don't worry, baby. It's just drinks.

I'll be a good girl. I promise."

He stared at her text, trying to force himself to relax.

But beneath the fragile relief that she reassured him...

Something darker bloomed.

A tiny, forbidden part of him wanted her to be bad.

Wanted her to slip.

Wanted her to forget herself.

He adjusted himself again under the desk, biting down a groan.

God, what's happening to me?

Why does the thought of her not being good make my cock harder?

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, feeling sweat bead at his temples.

He didn't know it yet.

But that night that small night was about to change everything for them.

Because Nevena?

She wasn't planning on being just bad.

She was planning on being unforgettable.

The drinks kept coming slowly, lazily as if time itself had begun to melt in the warm, buzzing atmosphere of the bar.

Nevena swirled the dark liquid in her glass, feeling the low, steady beat of the music thumping against her ribs.

The more she sipped, the bolder she felt the heady cocktail of alcohol, attention, and dangerous secrecy flooding her senses.

Across from her, Stefan watched her closely.

Not greedy.

Not pushy.

Just patient.

Predatory.

He leaned back in his stool, spreading his legs a little wider, one arm slung casually across the bar as if he had all the time in the world to unwrap her word by word, glance by glance.

"So," he said, voice low, rich with amusement.

"You sent Milan that little tease?"

Nevena nodded, her cheeks warming.

"And he bought it?"

A sly smile curved her lips.

"For now."

Stefan chuckled.

"Good. Makes it more fun when he realizes what he's missing."

Nevena bit her lip a small, nervous gesture that Stefan's eyes latched onto like a wolf scenting blood.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

God, what was she doing?

A new message buzzed on her phone.

Milan:

"You're killing me over here.

Can't stop thinking about you.

You better be home later cooking me dinner."

Nevena's breath caught.

Her thighs shifted subtly under the table.

She typed back quickly:

Nevena:

"You'll have to wait and see, baby. ????

Hope you're ready for a good dinner..."

But she didn't send another photo.

Not yet.

Instead, she looked up at Stefan through her lashes and said so softly it was almost a dare:

"Would you... help me take one?"

Stefan's grin widened, slow and wicked.

"Of course."

His hand brushed against her bare thigh under the table featherlight making her shiver.

She didn't stop him.

Instead, she shifted slightly, giving him more room, the hem of her dress inching dangerously higher.

Stefan pulled out his phone, angling it low and secretive.

"Spread your legs a little for me, Nevena," he murmured, as if they were discussing the weather.

Her breath caught again, but she obeyed heart slamming against her ribs.

Click.

The camera shuttered softly.

She didn't even dare look at what he captured too afraid to see how far she was already slipping.

Stefan showed her the screen casually under the table.

A shot of her thighs parted, the shadow of her bare pussy barely hidden under the hem of her dress.

"Perfect," he said.

"Send it," she whispered, dizzy.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

She hesitated only for a heartbeat.

Then nodded.

Nevena:

"Getting a little warm here. ???? Thinking about you."

And she hit send.

Across the city, Milan's phone vibrated again on his desk.

He glanced around paranoid now, edgy and opened the message.

His lungs seized.

It wasn't explicit not exactly.

But it wasn't innocent either.

Bare thighs.

A hint of black fabric.

The dangerous slope between her legs but it was too dark to see clearly the picture.

He swallowed hard, adjusting himself under the desk again, his cock throbbing with a confused, humiliating kind of hunger.

Was she really just at drinks?

Was someone taking these pictures for her?

A horrible, thrilling thought stabbed through his gut.

No...

Or maybe...

God.

He texted back, fingers clumsy:

Milan:

"Where are you exactly?

Who are you with?"

The response was instant, breezy:

Nevena:

"Just drinks, baby. Don't worry.

I miss you. Can't wait to see you later. ❤️"

And attached was a picture of her cocktail glass again the same one from earlier as if to say,

See? Still here. Still safe.

Milan exhaled a shaky breath, half-relieved, half-tortured.

He wanted to believe her.

He needed to.

But his cock pulsed harder with every heartbeat, every horrible/beautiful image blooming in his mind.

She's out there.

Looking like that.

Smiling like that.

What if someone touched her?

What if someone wanted her?

What if she let them?

He shut his laptop abruptly, closing a spreadsheet he wasn't even pretending to look at anymore, and buried his face in his hands.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Why do I want it?

Why do I want her even more right now?

Under the swirling mess of confusion and need, something ancient and feral clawed its way up his spine

a dark, messy, irresistible hunger.

He wasn't just afraid anymore.

He was aching.

Starving.

The drinks hit harder than she expected.

Nevena wasn't drunk, not yet but she was warm, loose, her skin buzzing.

The whiskey Stefan ordered tasted like liquid courage, and it trickled down her throat with a delicious burn.

Maybe that was why she didn't flinch when Stefan's hand, bold and steady, slid further up her thigh under the small bar table.

Maybe that was why her own hand trembling just barely drifted toward his lap.

At first, she pretended it was an accident.

A playful nudge.

But Stefan didn't stop her.

He shifted in his chair just enough to make it easier for her fingers to brush over the obvious, thick outline pressing against the fabric of his jeans.

She gasped, softly.

Her whole body reacted hips pressing subtly forward, breath hitching in her throat.

God... it feels just like before. Bigger, even.

Her fingers hovered, not daring to grasp him yet, but Stefan chuckled low in his chest and leaned in.

"If you want another look," he whispered, his voice velvet against her ear, "all you have to do... is ask."

Nevena shivered.

Her heart thundered against her ribs, her panties embarrassingly wet.

Was this still for Milan?

Was this still safe?

The answer came before she could even reason it out.

"Okay," she breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "Let's go somewhere."

Stefan smiled like a wolf given permission to hunt.

Without another word, they left the bar.

Nevena's hand slipped into his, smaller, trembling slightly.

It was terrifying.

It was thrilling.

And together they crossed the street to a nearby hotel, neon signs flickering against the night sky.

The lobby was quiet.

Anonymous.

The perfect kind of danger.

Stefan handled everything quickly checking in under a fake name, taking a key card from the bored clerk.

When they reached the elevator, Nevena's hands were sweaty.

Her heart hammered harder than ever before.

Still, she clutched her phone tightly.

Milan.

She opened a new message, thumbs hesitating for a moment before typing.

Nevena:

"Baby... how's work? ????

Wanna help you relax a little?"

She bit her lip, glancing sideways at Stefan.

He stood there casually, towering over her, hands loose at his sides but his cock was obviously heavy again inside those jeans, a thick promise she couldn't stop imagining.

Her phone buzzed.

Milan:

"Work is boring, baby.

Just missing you.

I hope you're having a good time.

I love you so much."

His words made her throat tighten.

Guilt.

Arousal.

Everything twisted inside her, messy and beautiful.

He doesn't know... but isn't this what he wanted? Isn't this his dream too?

She swallowed thickly and typed again, fingers trembling a little more now.

Nevena:

"How about I send you something to help you finish your shift strong? ????

Like I did last time..."

Across the tiny elevator, Stefan smirked silently, watching her blush, pretending not to see the panic and excitement tangled together on her face.

He didn't rush her.

He didn't need to.

Because Nevena had already decided

tonight was theirs.

And Milan...

Milan would watch.

Milan would feel everything.

He just didn't know it yet.

The hotel door clicked shut behind them.

Nevena barely had time to gasp before Stefan's hands were on her rough, hungry pulling her close, crushing her lips with his. His kiss was wild, tasting of whiskey and barely restrained hunger.

She melted against him, dizzy from the heat between them, from the danger of what they were doing.

Without breaking the kiss, Stefan bent slightly, gripped the backs of her thighs, and hoisted her effortlessly into his arms.

She clung to him, moaning into his mouth, feeling how solid, how heavy he was beneath her.

In three strides, Stefan carried her across the room and dropped into a wide leather chair, pulling her into his lap.

Her dress bunched up around her hips, her bare thighs straddling him.

She could feel it God, she could feel it, his cock thickening rapidly beneath her, straining against his jeans.

She ground down slightly, unable to help herself, feeling the hard, monstrous outline pressing against her soaked panties.

Stefan broke the kiss, lips trailing down her neck, his breath hot against her flushed skin.

"You feel that?" he growled softly against her throat. "That's what you do to me."

Nevena whimpered, hips rocking again unconsciously.

She was so turned on she could barely think but suddenly she gasped, pulling back.

"Oh my god," Nevena gasped between giggles, her breath coming fast and shallow, her heart pounding against her ribs. "I need to text Milan almost forgot."

Stefan chuckled low in his throat, the sound rumbling against her as she squirmed on his lap. His hand idly traced lazy patterns along her thigh, feeling the way she trembled with adrenaline and heat.

Nevena bit her lip, digging through her small purse with shaking fingers. Her whole body buzzed with excitement nerves, lust, mischief all braided together into something reckless and unstoppable.

Stefan didn't rush her. He just sat there, smirking, letting her use him however she needed. Letting her make herself even more dangerous to Milan from miles away.

Still straddling him, feeling the hard line of his cock grinding thickly against her panties, Nevena adjusted her position slightly rocking just enough to feel him throb beneath her. She swallowed a whimper and focused.

This had to look casual. This had to look innocent.

She lifted her phone, checked the angle with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

She framed the shot carefully wickedly her photographer instincts kicking in.

First, she tilted her head slightly, making sure her flushed, pretty face was front and center: lips slightly parted, eyes soft and glossy, cheeks dusted with pink from arousal.

Then, just low enough in the frame to be suggestive but not obvious, she caught the thick outline beneath Stefan's jeans.

She took it out.

So heavy and prominent it almost didn't seem real like a silicone toy sculpted for maximum size and fantasy. The rough texture of the denim only enhanced the illusion, making the cock look like some impossibly thick, rigid sex toy casually resting between her thighs.

Not a man's cock. Not Stefan's.

Just a big, anonymous, perfect shape.

She shifted her hips subtly for the shot, exaggerating the size against her small waist, making it look even more unreal, more impossible.

To Milan, it would just seem like she was being dirty posing with a dildo, teasing him with a new toy she hadn't shown him yet.

He wouldn't know.

Not yet.

The idea made her even wetter.

She tapped the capture button quickly before she could overthink it, heart hammering wildly. Then she scrolled to her messages with Milan, her thumb trembling slightly as she typed:

Nevena:

"Hope you like the view, baby ????"

She hit send.

Beside her, Stefan leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"You're evil," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

"Maybe," she whispered, sending one more glance to her phone screen before she locked it again. "But he loves it."

And so did she.

More than she dared to admit even to herself.

Meanwhile...

Milan sat at his desk, tired, bored, staring at another endless email chain when his phone buzzed.

He unlocked it and immediately froze.

The photo lit up his screen and his heart jolted painfully.

There was Nevena...

Cheeks flushed, hair a little messy, biting her lip seductively...

And beneath her chin, a monster of a cock.

What the fuck?!

For a second Milan's brain stuttered.

It almost looked fake too big, too thick.

Did she buy another toy?

He squinted, confused, a knot tightening in his gut.

Quickly he thumbed a message back:

Milan:

"Holy shit baby... is that a new dildo??

It looks... bigger than the last one."

His heart pounded.

There was something about it... something almost too real.

But he forced the thought away.

Of course it's just a toy. She's just teasing you. Like last time. Calm down.

His phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Nevena:

"Ohh it's bigger alright, baby. ????

Want a closer look?"

Another photo came through.

This time... Nevena's pink tongue was stretched out, lightly licking the swollen tip.

Milan groaned aloud before he caught himself, shifting painfully under his desk. His cock was rock hard, throbbing in his slacks.

Jesus Christ... it looks so real. So thick. So heavy.

He swallowed hard, trying to focus.

But something... something about the shape... the color...

It stirred a memory.

Why does it look familiar?

Where have I...?

His thoughts scattered when the next message appeared.

Nevena:

"Mmm... you should see what I'm gonna do to it next.

Miss you, baby. ????"

Attached was a short, blurry clip Nevena holding the shaft in both hands, her tongue swirling teasingly around the head.

Milan bit back a moan.

He typed with trembling fingers, torn between jealousy, confusion, and uncontrollable arousal:

Milan:

"Fuck baby you're driving me crazy...

How big is it compared to me?"

Nevena didn't answer right away.

And that silence...

That silence drove him wild.

In his mind, a battle raged:

Was it just a toy?

Was it something more?

Was she... was she really out somewhere playing with this without him?

The jealousy roared.

But underneath it... something darker, something hotter unfurled in his belly, making his cock twitch again against the fabric of his pants.

Why the fuck am I hard imagining it?

He gritted his teeth, waiting, staring at his phone like a man waiting for his sentence to be read out loud.

And when the next text finally buzzed through...

He knew.

He knew he was already lost.

Nevena stared at the screen a moment longer, smirking wickedly.

She loved how wrecked Milan sounded already needy, confused, so desperate for scraps of her attention while she was wrapped around another man's cock.

She lifted her eyes back to Stefan sprawled lazily in the chair, jeans open, cock massive and glistening from her earlier teasing licks.

Stefan wasn't rushing her.

He just watched a slow, dangerous smile curling his lips his thick cock throbbing against his stomach while she stroked it gently with one hand.

God, he's so big, Nevena thought, a flush creeping up her neck again.

"Feels so different..." she murmured under her breath, almost as if narrating to herself, to Milan, to no one at all.

Without thinking, she tilted her phone down, snapped another quick photo one hand wrapped around Stefan's shaft, her fingers barely spanning it, her red lipstick smudged on his slick skin.

Nevena:

"It's so much bigger, baby... my jaw already hurts and I haven't even gotten him halfway in so much for my training... ????"

She hit send without second-guessing.

Across the city, Milan's phone buzzed violently in his pocket.

He barely held in a groan, hands shaking as he fumbled it out.

He was still hiding in the work bathroom, his cock throbbing painfully against the tight fabric of his briefs.

He stared at the image at his beautiful wife, cheeks flushed, mouth stretched wide around a cock that wasn't his.

Bigger.

Heavier.

Too real.

His mind warred with itself jealousy, rage, humiliation but his cock twitched, leaking pre-cum, betraying him.

He texted back furiously:

Milan:

"Fuck. More. Please, baby... send me more. Need to see. Need to imagine. Please."

Back in the hotel room, Nevena had forgotten the phone buzzing for a moment.

Forgotten everything but the obscene weight of Stefan's cock in her hand.

She glanced up at him, biting her lip.

"You just gonna stare at it?" Stefan teased, voice low and amused. "Or you planning on actually making me cum?"

Nevena flushed deeper.

The way he said it casual, cocky made her thighs clench.

God, Milan would love hearing this, she thought dimly.

She giggled, flipping her ponytail back, slipping between Stefan's open thighs with easy, almost cocky grace.

"I trained for this," she purred, wrapping both hands around him now. "You have no idea how ready I am to milk you dry, Stefan."

He chuckled, deep and rough, his hand resting lightly on her head.

"Then show me."

And she did.

Slowly. Sinfully.

Her tongue lapped at the underside first, tracing the thick vein that ran the length of him.

Then she swirled around the swollen tip, gathering the salty pre-cum on her tongue, moaning softly at the taste.

Every sound she made seemed exaggerated in the quiet hotel room the wet noises of her lips, the slick slide of her hands, the tiny whimper she made when she tried to force more of him into her mouth than her throat could handle.

Stefan groaned, hips flexing slightly upward.

"Fuck, Nevena..." he muttered, threading his fingers tighter into her ponytail.

Minutes passed maybe ten, maybe twenty time slipping away into nothing but wet heat and gasping breaths.

Meanwhile, Milan was losing his mind.

No reply.

Just silence.

He stood alone in the cold bathroom in the office, forehead pressed to the mirror, cock leaking against his fist inside his pants.

He texted again, frantic:

Milan:

"Baby? Are you okay?? What's happening? Please tell me. Please send more. I need it."

His heart thudded painfully in his chest.

Was she okay? Was she safe?

Or was she so lost in pleasure she forgot about him?

The thought awful, beautiful made him shudder.

Finally, Nevena heard Stefan's amused voice break the trance:

"You're ignoring your husband, sweetheart. Phone keeps lighting up."

Nevena blinked, suddenly jolted back to reality.

"O-oh shit..." she gasped, scrambling for her phone nearby. Her hand was slick with spit and pre-cum; her lipstick smeared obscenely around her mouth.

Milan's desperate texts popped up one after another.

She bit her lip, her heart hammering wildly in her chest as she framed another picture:

This time, it was devastating.

Her face, ruined and needy

Her hand, stroking Stefan's spit-shiny shaft

The lipstick mark around the thick cock vivid, messy, undeniable proof of how much she couldn't take.

Nevena:

"Sorry baby... was busy working on it ????

Look how wet I got it just for you."

She sent the message along with the new photo and immediately added:

Nevena:

"Want a video too? ????????"

Milan could barely breathe.

But when his cock pulsed violently against his hand ready to explode just from the image of Nevena so destroyed, so messy for something that wasn't him he knew he was past the point of no return.

He texted back, desperate:

Milan:

"Video. Please. Baby. Show me everything."

Nevena's fingers trembled slightly as she opened the camera app.

Stefan leaned back in the chair, smirking lazily, cock glistening from her saliva. He looked like he belonged there an irresistible temptation she was supposed to resist but didn't even want to anymore.

She flicked her eyes up at him.

"You ready for this, Milan?" she whispered under her breath, half to herself, half to the man moaning into her phone across the city.

Stefan caught the words, grinning.

"Better make it a good one," he rumbled, his voice rough with lust. "Your husband's waiting."

The casualness of it the way Stefan knew exactly how wrecked Milan was, how desperate made Nevena's stomach flip with raw heat.

She hit record.

The phone shook slightly for a second, catching the mess of her ruined makeup, her glassy, aroused eyes... and then panned slowly downward.

To Stefan's monstrous cock resting heavily against her flushed cheek.

She licked up the side of it like it was candy, moaning into the thick vein that pulsed under her tongue, smearing lipstick and spit up and down the shaft. Her free hand squeezed the base, struggling to circle it, her fingers painted slick with drool.

She kept talking soft, dirty like she was narrating a porn just for Milan.

"Mmm, look how big it is, baby..." she whispered breathlessly, kissing the swollen head. "So much bigger than my little training toy... remember how I told you it made my jaw hurt?"

Another soft, wet suck. Another teasing moan.

Her hand stroked lazily up and down Stefan's shaft, spit glistening in the dim hotel light, her rings flashing across her fingers.

"It's so thick, so heavy..." she murmured, looking straight into the camera now straight into Milan's soul. "It stretches my lips so wide... I can barely even fit him."

Stefan grunted above her, hips shifting upward slightly, pressing himself against her mouth.

Without thinking, Nevena opened wider taking him in deeper, slower this time, showing off how hard she tried to swallow more, how her throat flexed around him before she had to pull back, coughing a little, tears welling up in her mascara-smeared lashes.

She made sure the camera caught it all.

The sound of her gagging.

The way her lipstick stained Stefan's shaft like a trophy.

The obscene wetness glistening at the corners of her mouth.

Finally, she pulled back, panting lightly, wiping the back of her hand across her chin like a messy slut.

Her voice dipped low, teasing:

"Bet you're jerking your cute little cock at work, baby... wishing it was you making me cry like this."

She smiled sweetly too sweet and blew a kiss to the camera.

Then she hit send.

Milan's hands shook so badly he almost dropped the phone.

He stared at the video, jaw slack, cock throbbing violently under the tight fabric of his dress pants.

The way she sucked it the way she talked to him it was too much. It was cruel and perfect and it burned a hole right through his chest.

His breathing was ragged as he texted her back:

Milan:

"God, baby... you're beautiful. You're perfect.

I can't believe you're mine.

Please... more... please..."

There was no anger left.

No confusion.

Only surrender.

Back in the hotel room, Nevena smirked when she saw his reply, feeling her heart pound wildly.

She turned to Stefan, lips swollen and red, voice dripping with wickedness:

"He's begging."

Stefan chuckled, brushing a thumb across her ruined mouth.

"Let's give him a show he'll never forget."

Stefan shifted in the chair, spreading his legs wider, letting his heavy cock stand proudly against his stomach, glistening from Nevena's messy, hungry mouth.

Nevena wiped her chin again, smirking, her lipstick ruined, her hair loose from the once-neat ponytail, sweat making strands cling to her flushed cheeks.

"You're not done yet, pretty girl," Stefan growled low.

She shivered at his tone.

Without waiting for instructions, Nevena turned around giving him a full, perfect view of her ass and slowly backed herself onto him. One hand guided his slick, veiny shaft to her entrance, her folds soaking, needy, throbbing.

When the fat head popped inside, she gasped a soft, broken sound and then sank further down, inch by agonizing inch.

Stefan exhaled sharply, grabbing his phone casually.

He tilted it slightly, catching the most obscene view:

Her tight little pussy stretching wide around him, her ass bouncing as she rocked her hips down.

Nevena didn't even look back. She focused entirely on the delicious stretch, the impossible fullness as she bottomed out with a sharp, shaky moan.

The skin-to-skin smacks filled the room quickly.

Stefan lifted the phone, catching a shaky, amateur-style POV: Nevena's ass cheeks rippling with every downward slam, her hips grinding back desperately, his thick cock glistening from her juices every time she lifted slightly before taking him all over again.

And then like a predator knowing exactly how to make the moment crueler Stefan opened Milan's chat.

He grinned wickedly, typing quickly:

"Hey baby, propped the phone up so you can watch better ❤️"

Milan's response came back immediately, frantic, breathless:

Milan:

"Holy fuck baby you look so good... fuck, I love you so much... bounce on it, show me, show me how good it feels."

Watching from the bathroom stall at work, Milan's cock was out, throbbing in his fist, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bouncing footage the wet squelches, the moans, the way her ass cheeks shook with every slap against Stefan's lap.

He texted again, desperate:

Milan:

"Harder baby... fuck I wanna cum for you... show me."

Back at the hotel, Stefan smirked.

Still filming, he leaned in close to Nevena's sweaty back, whispering gruff into her ear:

"Are you doing this for him..."

A deep thrust that made her gasp.

"Or for you?"

Nevena whimpered, hips still rolling, her voice a trembling moan:

"... For him... and for me..."

Her honesty dripped out just like her arousal did uncontrollable, raw.

She loved this.

The feeling of being stretched, claimed, watched.

Loved how Milan worshipped her even as she did things neither of them could've imagined years ago.

Stefan captured it all her trembling thighs, the wet sheen between them, the messy slaps of her ass hitting his thighs.

Another text buzzed:

Milan:

"I'm so close baby... god you're beautiful... you're everything... please don't stop."

His hand moved furiously around his cock, breath catching, heart pounding.

He never thought jealousy and love could feel so identical.

Back in the hotel room, Nevena grabbed Stefan's thighs tighter, riding harder now, chasing something dark and addictive.

She turned her head slightly, her voice broken, messy, perfect:

"Tell him... tell him how I feel, how full I am..."

Stefan chuckled deep in his chest and typed one-handed while filming:

"I"m leaking down this big fat cock baby it feel sooo damn goodd."

That text alone almost finished Milan.

He gritted his teeth, leaning back against the bathroom wall, cock throbbing violently in his palm, fighting the inevitable.

Another desperate text:

Milan:

"I'm gonna cum baby... fuck fuck fuck don't stop..."

And all Nevena could do was ride harder, faster moaning Milan's name even as another man's cock filled her to the hilt.

Nevena rode Stefan like she was possessed hips frantic, back arched, ass slapping down against his lap again and again. The thick stretch of him inside her lit up every nerve ending, and the roughness of his jeans against the insides of her thighs only made it messier, dirtier.

Her hand dropped between her legs, fingers frantically rubbing her swollen clit, chasing the orgasm that had been building ever since they left the bar.

Stefan sat back in the chair, one hand lazily gripping the armrest, the other holding the phone, recording the whole obscene show.

"Thought you were training for this," he teased darkly, a smirk twisting his lips as he watched her body stutter and quake.

Nevena moaned brokenly, her thighs trembling.

Milan was still waiting, clueless, phone in hand inside a bathroom stall, heart hammering. His cock was throbbing so hard he thought it might explode, leaking already, desperate for whatever Nevena promised to send next.

But no new video came.

Nevena wasn't even thinking about her phone anymore wasn't thinking about anything except chasing that edge, feeling the thick, hot drag of Stefan's cock inside her and the pleasure crashing down.

With a desperate cry, she shattered cumming hard, grinding down onto Stefan as wetness gushed around him. She kept moving through the aftershocks, whimpering, eyes screwed shut in overwhelmed bliss.

Stefan chuckled low in his chest, brushing a strand of sweaty hair from her flushed face.

"Your husband's waiting, pretty girl," he reminded her lazily. "Let's give him a show."

Still gasping for breath, Nevena let him guide her off his cock his thick shaft glistening with her release.

Her legs wobbled as she dropped to her knees between his spread thighs, obedient and wrecked, her flushed cheeks gleaming under the cheap hotel room light.

"Grab my fat cock," Stefan instructed, voice rough. "Both hands."

Nevena wrapped both hands around him still not even fully able to cover his thick length and started stroking slowly, pumping him up and down, her palms slick from all the spit and cum and her own arousal still coating him.

Stefan aimed the phone perfectly, capturing every delicious detail the way her small hands struggled to work his length, the glint of mischief and satisfaction in her glassy eyes.

"Now," he said, grinning, "talk to him. Tell Milan what a bad boy he is. Tell him how you want him to cum. Give him a countdown, pretty thing. Make him cum for you... and make me cum too."

Nevena's chest heaved as she caught her breath. She looked into the camera, biting her lip, then licked a stripe up Stefan's shaft, smiling as she started.

Stefan hit record on the cam.

Her voice was a dirty purr:

"Baby... I know you're jerking off right now, all hard and leaking at work...

I'm here with this big fat cock in my hands... and I want you to cum for me."

She started stroking Stefan faster, her hands sliding effortlessly over his wet, veiny shaft.

Her hips wiggled slightly in excitement as she kept talking, her voice breathier now:

"I'm gonna count down for you, baby... and when I say 'cum'... I want you to give me everything."

Stefan's cock twitched in her hands.

Nevena's voice dropped low, a dirty little whisper meant just for Milan:

"10...

9...

8... oh god, look at me, baby...

7... you're such a good boy for me...

6... don't hold back...

5... wish it was your cock in my mouth too...

4... this one's just a little bigger though...

3... my mouth's so ready for you...

2... cum for me, Milan...

1... now, baby... cum for me!"

As she hit one, Stefan let out a deep grunt and erupted.

Thick, hot ropes of cum shot up across her face, covering her cheeks, her lips, even streaking into her hair. She kept stroking him through it, milking every last drop with eager hands, sticking her tongue out to catch the mess with a giggle and a moan.

The camera caught it all:

Her messy face, her bright eyes, her wrecked makeup, the way she laughed breathlessly even while Stefan's cum dripped from her chin.

Stefan chuckled darkly, his voice a rough murmur:

"Good girl."

He handed her the phone.

Nevena, cheeks flushed, tongue still lazily lapping up the stray streaks of cum, hit SEND sending the entire filthy masterpiece straight to Milan.

Milan sat hunched in the cramped, fluorescent-lit bathroom stall, the tile walls sweating as much as he was. His heart jackhammered against his ribs, his cock throbbing painfully against the zipper of his slacks.

Another notification buzzed on his phone.

A new video from Nevena.

He fumbled to open it, fingers clumsy, the phone almost slipping out of his hand from the sweat slicking his palms. His whole body was a live wire strung tight between panic, lust, and something darker he didn't dare name.

The screen flashed to life and he froze.

There she was.

Nevena.

On her knees.

Her face flushed deep pink, wild strands of hair sticking to her damp cheeks, lipstick smudged and smeared around her swollen lips like she'd been making out hard for hours.

And in her hands fuck, her hands she was clutching the fattest, slickest cock, her fingers barely able to meet around the soaked shaft.

Milan's lungs stopped working. He hit play with a trembling thumb.

The sound hit him immediately: Nevena's voice, sweet and thick with arousal, every word dripping sin straight into his bloodstream.

"10..." she whispered, smiling breathlessly into the camera, stroking the heavy length between her palms.

Milan whimpered low in his throat, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth to stay silent.

"9..." Her tongue flicked teasingly along the bulbous, leaking head, catching a bead of precum on her lips.

"8... oh god, look at me, baby..." She shivered theatrically, like the taste alone could make her cum.

Milan's cock jerked painfully against his slacks, already leaking, his balls tight and heavy.

"7... you're such a good boy for me..."

Her eyes gleamed, wicked and warm, locked onto the camera, onto him.

"6... don't hold back..."

She pumped faster now, slick sounds filling the small stall where Milan sat trembling.

"5... wish it was your cock in my mouth too..."

Her voice cracked just slightly, thick with emotion and something that sounded almost like guilt.

"4... this one's just a little bigger though..."

She giggled drunkenly around the words, dragging her tongue flat along the underside of the shaft, worshipping it.

Milan was shaking now, desperate not to make a sound, his hips jerking upward into nothing as precum soaked the front of his briefs.

"3... my mouth's so ready for you..."

She stroked harder, faster, her cheeks hollowing with effort as she worked her mouth down the length, taking more than Milan thought possible.

"2... cum for me, Milan..."

Her voice was a broken moan now, thick and desperate.

"1... now, baby... cum for me!"

The moment she said it, the cock in her hands twitched and erupted.

Thick, heavy ropes of cum shot across Nevena's flushed face, painting her cheeks, her lips, even splattering into her messy hair.

She gasped through it, moaning around the load, smiling with gleeful humiliation as she kept stroking it, milking every last drop out of the shaft.

Milan came at the same moment violently, helplessly soaking the inside of his pants, stars bursting behind his eyes. He bit down on the side of his wrist to muffle the noise, nearly blacking out from how hard it hit him.

Panting, wrecked, he slumped back against the cold stall wall.

But before the video ended before he could even start to piece himself back together something else happened.

Through the crackling audio, just barely above the wet, obscene sounds, a second voice rumbled low:

"Good girl," a man's voice said, deep and satisfied.

Milan's blood ran ice-cold.

The video cut out right after but the damage was done.

Dazed, breathing hard, he rewound the video. Slower this time. Sharper.

The details he missed in the first rush of orgasm now screamed at him:

Nevena's tiny hands struggling to even stroke the full girth.

The pulsing veins. The flushed, angry color.

The way it twitched when it exploded across her tongue not some rubber, molded toy. Something alive. Something real.

Her smile not just playful.

Worshipful.

Real.

Milan's stomach twisted into knots, his entire body trembling with something sharp and ugly and unbearably arousing all at once.

That wasn't a dildo.

That wasn't a toy.

That was a man.

That was Stefan.

And Milan had watched it happen.

His mind raced in a thousand directions at once.

Shock.

Hurt.

Confusion.

Arousal.

Jealousy.

Shame.

But above all else...

Desire.

Because no matter how his brain screamed at him to be angry, to be hurt, his cock stirred again just from seeing the video replaying in his mind.

Seeing Nevena his sweet wife on her knees, smiling, licking, loving every filthy second.

And knowing she sent it to him.

For him.

Because somewhere, deep down, he wanted this.

And now...

Now he knew it was real.

It wasn't just a fantasy anymore.

Stefan was real.

The cock in her mouth was real.

Her pleasure was real.

And somehow, impossibly...

It made him harder than anything ever had.

Milan sat there, his body still trembling, staring blankly at the stall door like it might open and swallow him whole.

His phone buzzed again in his sweaty palm.

Nevena:

Baby? ???? Did you like the surprise?

He swallowed hard. His fingers hovered over the screen, every part of him torn between anger, lust, confusion... but also pride.

Because she was his.

And she trusted him enough to show him everything.

He wiped his forehead, took a breath, and typed back:

Milan:

I don't even know what to say...

I'm wrecked. You're incredible.

I can't believe what you did for me.

His heart pounded as he hit send.

Seconds later another buzz.

Nevena:

I did it for you, baby. ????

Every dirty second.

I wanted you to see how good you make me feel...

How much I love making you crazy like this.

He closed his eyes, letting her words sink deep.

But then another message arrived, even dirtier:

Nevena:

Do you want to see what your bad girl looks like right now? ????

Before he could even type yes, the next image popped up.

Milan's breath caught.

It was Nevena crouched in the bathroom of the hotel room.

Still naked.

Still dripping.

Her entire face glazed in thick, creamy ropes of cum, some of it dripping down her neck, pooling between her bare breasts.

Her eyes were glassy with pleasure, her lips swollen and parted in a satisfied, wicked grin.

And written across the photo in soft, handwritten text:

"Sorry, baby... I've been a very bad girl for you tonight." ❤️

Milan's cock, impossibly, twitched again in his ruined pants.

His stomach clenched.

His heart ached.

He didn't know how to process it all the reality, the intensity but he knew one thing for certain:

He wanted more.

Even if it scared him.

Even if it wrecked him.

He wanted every filthy, perfect part of it.

And he wanted her.

Meanwhile.

The hotel room was thick with heat, the air heavy with the mingled scent of sex and sweat.

Nevena wiped at her chin with a tissue, still giggling breathlessly, a giddy kind of high humming through her veins. Her thighs trembled slightly from the intensity of it all from how far she'd gone, how far she'd let herself be seen.

Stefan leaned back in the chair, lazily stroking his half-hard, glistening cock, smirking at her like a man completely sated.

"You really were something else tonight," he murmured, voice low, rough with leftover desire.

Nevena smiled shyly a strange contradiction given what had just happened tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The ponytail she'd so carefully done up earlier was now messy and loose, strands clinging to her sweaty neck.

"Was it what you expected?" she teased, voice still a little shaky.

Stefan chuckled. "Better."

He tucked himself back into his jeans without rush, standing up and stretching his broad shoulders as if shaking off the last electric remnants of their time together.

Nevena moved to grab her purse and fix her lipstick in the mirror. She hesitated briefly when she caught sight of herself eyes red-rimmed from her crying throat, lips still bruised from the sheer force of the night, the faint outline of finger marks on her hips where Stefan had gripped her hard.

Her body looked claimed.

And somehow, that thought sent a ripple of pride through her.

This was for Milan.

And for herself, too.

They cleaned up quietly. No awkwardness. Just an unspoken agreement that what they'd shared tonight wasn't just about lust it was deeper. More crafted. Like they were co-conspirators helping to stoke a fantasy, sharpening the edges of it.

When they left the hotel, the night air was cool against her flushed skin. Stefan walked her to her car, both of them silent for a moment under the streetlights.

Before she slipped into her seat, Stefan leaned down, his voice soft but full of heat.

"Next time," he whispered, "you won't need to be so shy about wanting it."

Nevena flushed all over again but didn't reply she just smiled slyly, shut the door, and drove off into the night, feeling her panties soaked just from that parting shot.

The drive home was a blur.

Her mind replayed the look of herself in the videos she'd sent Milan the lust, the mess, the utter need that had been written all over her body. She could only imagine how hard he was when he saw them... how wrecked he'd been after.

Her fingers drummed nervously against the steering wheel.

What would Milan say when he saw her?

Would he look at her differently?

Would he pull her into his arms... or would he hesitate?

She didn't know and it thrilled her.

She stepped into their apartment, dropped her purse by the door, and slipped into the bathroom first to quickly wash away the evidence but she left her hair messy, left the faint scent of Stefan's cologne on her skin, left herself imperfect.

Because a part of her wanted Milan to know.

To smell it.

To feel it.

By the time Milan got home, she'd be waiting... heart hammering with a mix of nerves and the wicked, secret pleasure only they shared.

Milan could barely keep his hands on the steering wheel.

The video.

The texts.

The pictures.

Every image of Nevena smeared in cum, smiling around a thick cock that wasn't his a cock he finally, with cold certainty, recognized played behind his eyes on a brutal loop.

Stefan.

It was Stefan.

It had been him all along.

Milan's stomach twisted, the kind of knots that came with jealousy, humiliation, a savage need all rolled into one blistering package.

And yet...

Yet, his cock throbbed inside his pants, rock-hard again, as if his body had already accepted what his mind hadn't fully processed yet.

He loved it.

Hated it.

Loved it.

Craved it.

Despised himself for craving it.

Every streetlight he passed cast a flicker of light across his lap, revealing the obvious bulge between his legs.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, squeezing the steering wheel tighter.

He couldn't wait to get home.

He needed to see her.

He needed to feel her.

Part of him wanted to pull her into his lap and bury himself inside her right there on the couch claim her.

Another darker part of him...

The part that had been growing since the first night they'd ever talked about this...

That part wanted to hear everything first.

How she touched him.

How she made him cum.

How it felt to be so full she could barely take it.

The car turned the corner onto their street, headlights sweeping over their quiet little apartment building.

Milan's heart hammered against his ribs.

Tonight would change everything.

Again.

And he was ready.

Or at least, he told himself he was.

The door creaked open.

Milan stepped inside, the apartment dim except for the soft glow of a single lamp.

And there she was.

Nevena.

Sitting on the couch in just a loose T-shirt and panties looking like she hadn't moved since she sent him the last devastating picture.

She turned her head, eyes catching his, and for a moment, the air between them was electric thick, charged, humming with everything unspoken.

Neither said a word.

They didn't need to.

Milan dropped his keys on the counter, kicked off his shoes.

Nevena rose slowly from the couch and walked toward him.

Every step she took made his cock twitch painfully inside his jeans. He could smell the faint trace of perfume, mixed with sweat, mixed with something else something masculine, primal, lingering on her skin.

Him.

Stefan.

Nevena reached for him, tugging his shirt up over his head, revealing the rigid tension in his body. She kissed him once, softly and then pulled him by the hand toward the couch.

She pushed him down onto it, straddling him immediately.

Her bare thighs pressed to the sides of his jeans, her panties damp against his stomach as she ground her hips lightly, teasing.

She leaned down, her mouth brushing his ear.

"Let me ride you, baby," she whispered, voice dripping with sinful sweetness. "The same way I rode him."

Milan shivered, a violent, involuntary tremor.

She undid his pants, freeing his cock already leaking, flushed angry red from everything pent up all day.

Nevena smiled, a dark, secret smile, and pulled her panties to the side, dragging herself slowly over his tip.

Warm. Soaked. Stretchy.

He gasped.

It didn't feel tight.

It felt... wide. Yielding.

Like something had already shaped her insides before him something bigger, thicker, more demanding and now he was simply following where it had been.

He tried not to think it.

But the thought broke him.

It was like fucking a ghost.

Stefan's ghost.

Every thrust he gave was into a hollow that wasn't shaped by him.

And yet... it made him harder. Hungrier.

Nevena rocked her hips slowly, grinding, keeping his cock inside her, wrapping her arms around his neck as she whispered against his mouth:

"How does it feel, baby?"

"Fucking the hole he stretched open for you?"

Milan choked on a groan, bucking up into her without meaning to.

Her pussy was so wet, so loose, milking him in slow, slippery waves. Every movement made him feel like he was slipping deeper into a place he no longer fully owned.

"Is it big enough for you, love?" she teased breathlessly, voice high with wicked pleasure. "Can you feel it? Can you feel how much he stretched me?"

Milan's head tipped back against the couch.

His fists clenched at her hips.

He couldn't last.

Not with the way she was riding him hips rolling like she'd learned a new rhythm, a new way of moving her body, a dirtier, more broken-in way. Not with her voice dripping filth into his ears. Not with the brutal fantasy becoming reality.

He came.

Hard.

Painfully hard.

Spilling inside her in thick, desperate bursts, his hips twitching uncontrollably as Nevena milked every drop from him, clenching hard around his cock as if squeezing him dry.

She laughed softly, still grinding down against him, and then slipped off him with a wet, obscene sound.

Her thighs trembled.

Milan sat there, panting, watching in awe as she leaned back on the couch, legs splayed wide, fingers diving between her swollen, cum-smeared folds.

"Mmm... now it's my turn," she purred.

She rubbed his cum into herself massaging it into her clit, her pussy, messy and wet, using it like lube to stroke herself to the edge.

Milan watched, dazed and wrecked, as Nevena's breath hitched, her body tensed and then she cried out, moaning his name, her legs shaking as she came hard, her fingers slick with both of them.

"Fuuuck, Milan..." she gasped, panting, her face pink and radiant from the orgasm.

For a long moment, neither moved.

They just breathed.

Finally, Nevena sat up, smiling lazily.

"Shower?" she asked, winking.

Milan could only nod, still struggling to catch his breath.

They stumbled together into the bathroom exhausted, filthy, bound by something far deeper and dirtier than they could have ever imagined.

And when Nevena turned her back to him under the hot water, rubbing soap over her thighs, Milan couldn't help but notice again...

That slight looseness.

That residual stretch.

A mark he hadn't left.

But one he now shared.

After the shower, after the heat had broken and left them soft and clean and trembling, they collapsed into bed.

The sheets were cool against their damp skin.

The night air buzzed faintly from the open window, and the city hummed somewhere far away.

Milan pulled Nevena close, cradling her against his chest like she might drift away if he didn't anchor her there.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Just breathing.

Heartbeat to heartbeat.

Skin to skin.

Then, in the dark, Milan's voice broke the silence.

"Did you... like tonight?" he asked quietly, almost boyish, the tremor of uncertainty still clinging to his words.

Nevena shifted against him, her bare leg sliding over his, her palm resting flat over his heart.

She smiled against his skin.

"I loved it," she whispered honestly.

And she had.

Maybe more than she even wanted to admit.

He hesitated, then, because the question was too big to hold back:

"Loved... which part?"

Nevena lifted her head, propping herself on one elbow to look down at him.

Her hair, damp and wild, framed her face cheeks still flushed pink, lips swollen from everything she'd done and everything she'd said.

She saw the fear in his eyes.

The craving.

The need.

He wanted her to say she loved being back with him.

He wanted her to say it was only him she wanted, only him she needed.

And she did love him.

But it wasn't that simple anymore.

Nevena traced her fingers lightly over his chest, playing with the fine hair there, her voice a slow, teasing murmur:

"I loved seeing you so desperate for me, baby."

"I loved knowing you were jerking off at work... watching me... craving me."

Milan shivered under her hand.

"And..." she continued, her voice dipping lower, heavier, "I loved making you imagine things you could never do alone."

He swallowed hard.

His cock, somehow, stirred again, twitching weakly between his legs, even spent as he was.

Nevena smiled wider, seeing the reaction.

She leaned down, brushing her lips over his ear, whispering:

"I loved riding him... and knowing you were imagining it was you."

Milan groaned, helpless.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her close, burying his face in her neck breathing in her scent, her warmth, the fading traces of another man she had carried home with her like a secret perfume.

But he didn't recoil.

He didn't push her away.

He held her tighter.

Because even though it hurt even though it burned him from the inside out it also bound him to her in a way nothing else ever had.

Painful.

Humbling.

Perfect.

They lay there tangled together skin flushed, muscles sore, hearts thudding until Milan finally whispered:

"Will there be... more?"

Nevena kissed his forehead gently.

"Only if you want it, baby," she murmured. "Only if we both do."

And deep inside, Milan knew...

They were past the point of no return.

The door they had opened could never fully close again.

But lying there, with Nevena wrapped around him, smelling like soap and sex and sin, Milan realized something else too.

He didn't want it to close.

He wanted more.

Even if it broke him a little.

Because Nevena wasn't just his wife anymore.

She was his addiction.

His obsession.

His everything.

And as he drifted toward sleep, still buried inside the aftershocks of everything they had done and everything still to come, he heard her whisper one last thing:

"Next time..."

"Maybe I'll let him breed me."

Milan's cock twitched helplessly against her thigh.

And in the dark, Nevena smiled to herself already wondering how far they could go before either of them broke.