The FaceTime Bully

The front door was unlocked. That was the first thing Sarah noticed--right before the second thing, which was that the apartment was completely silent. No video game sounds, no kettle whistling, no babbling from Tim about whatever new fantasy novel he'd finished. Just... nothing.

She stepped inside, one arm full of shopping bags, her keys still dangling from her fingers. Her brow furrowed. Tim was supposed to be home. His bicycle was leaning against the hallway wall like always, and his work laptop was open on the table with Slack notifications still blinking. But the lights were dim and the air felt heavier than usual, like someone had exhaled a sigh and never inhaled again.

"Tim?" she called.

No answer.

She kicked off her sandals and walked further in, the grocery bag rustling against her hip. She passed their bedroom--empty--and turned toward the living room.

That's when she saw him.

Tim was on the couch, curled up in a way that reminded her of a bug trying to survive a shoe. His head was in his hands, his scrawny shoulders shuddering, glasses fogged, chest hiccuping with uneven breaths. He looked like a crying cartoon scientist, sobbing over a failed experiment.

For a moment, she just stood there. Then:

"Tim? Babe? What the hell?"

He looked up, startled, blinking rapidly. "Oh--oh. Hey. I didn't hear you come in."

"Clearly." She set the bag down and crossed over to him, crouching beside the couch. "What's going on? Are you hurt?"

He shook his head and sniffled, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. "No, I just... it's stupid. Forget it."

"Tim. You're crying in the fetal position. This isn't nothing."

He hesitated. His lip quivered. His voice came out small and cracked: "It's Neil."

Sarah blinked. "Neil who?"

"... Neil Carter."

And just like that, the name slapped a dusty yearbook photo into her brain. Neil Carter. Quarterback. Jerk. Full-time shitbag. The guy who used to lock Tim in a gym locker and throw his lunch into traffic. That Neil.

Sarah's eyes narrowed.

"What about him?"

Tim took a breath, and the story began.

Tim leaned forward, wiping both eyes with the heels of his hands. "He... he works at my company now. He got hired a month ago, and they put him in my department. Same damn floor, two desks away. I thought he wouldn't even remember me, but--" His voice cracked. "He remembered."

Sarah stood up slowly, arms crossed, mouth flattening. "You're telling me this bastard who used to give you wedgies and call you 'Twiglet' in the hallways is now at your job?"

Tim nodded miserably. "He hasn't changed. If anything, he's gotten worse. He waits till the boss isn't around and just--he needles me. He calls me 'son' like I'm some idiot intern. Rearranges my desk. Today he poured coffee into my mouse. Then told everyone I cried about it in the bathroom."

Sarah blinked. "Did you cry about it in the bathroom?"

He shot her a watery glare. "That's not the point."

"Okay, okay." She sat beside him, rubbing his back. "That's horrible. But babe--why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to seem pathetic," he whispered.

Sarah glanced sideways at him. She didn't say anything. The word was already there in the air, hanging awkwardly between his sobs and her thoughts.

He looked at her with bloodshot eyes. "You think I'm pathetic."

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I think he's a piece of shit, and you need to report him."

"I can't," Tim said. "He's already friends with my manager. They went golfing last weekend."

"Jesus," Sarah muttered. "This guy really is everywhere."

"I feel like I'm in high school again," he mumbled, pressing his face into his hands. "And I can't escape."

Sarah sat still for a moment. Her fingers tapped against her thigh.

Then she stood up.

Tim glanced up. "Where are you going?"

She turned, pacing a few slow steps, hands on her hips. "I just--God, I can't believe this. That prick. That absolute meat-brained, locker-stuffing... Neanderthal is still messing with you?"

Tim nodded, shame coloring his pale cheeks. "He hasn't grown up at all."

She shook her head. "No, but you have. You're a grown man, Tim. You pay rent. You bake banana bread on Sundays. Why the hell are you letting him get to you?"

He winced, the way he always did when she raised her voice--just a little. "I didn't let him. He just--he's good at it. He knows exactly how to get in my head."

Sarah rubbed her forehead. She wasn't mad at Tim, not exactly. But there was something about seeing him like this--soggy, defeated, pathetic in his threadbare hoodie--that scraped against her nerves. It reminded her of something she didn't want to admit: that she liked it better when Tim looked up to her, not up from a puddle of his own tears.

Still, she knelt beside him again, this time pulling his hands gently away from his face.

"Hey. Look at me."

He did. His lashes were wet, his nose red, and he looked like he needed a hug from someone in a much stronger tax bracket.

"I'm sorry this is happening," she said softly. "Really. But you can't let this guy keep walking all over you. You're better than him."

Tim gave her a watery half-smile. "You really think so?"

Sarah hesitated just a second too long. "Yes."

Tim exhaled shakily and leaned back into the couch, clearly exhausted from the emotional purge. Sarah stood up again, brushing invisible lint from her thighs, her mind already spinning.

"Where are you going now?" Tim asked, looking up at her with tired eyes.

She didn't answer right away. She walked into their bedroom and began unzipping her hoodie.

"Sarah?" he called.

"I'm going to talk to him."

"What? No--Sarah, no. Please." Tim got up, stumbling over the coffee table. "You can't just go to his house."

"I absolutely can," she said, pulling off her gym top and rifling through the closet. "I'm not going to let this overgrown gym class flunk-out make you cry in your own home."

Tim rushed to the doorway. "He'll make things worse! He's already on my ass all day, if he knows you showed up--"

"He doesn't scare me, Tim."

She found what she was looking for: a black tank top that hugged her figure and a pair of tight jeans that made her ass look like an asset. She pulled them on quickly, tied her hair up, and grabbed her phone.

Tim watched in helpless disbelief. "Sarah, please."

"I'll be polite," she said, slipping on earrings. "At first."

"You're not even wearing a bra."

She looked at him flatly. "Do I need one to tell a man to go fuck himself?"

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it.

She kissed him quickly on the forehead and grabbed her keys. "I'll be back soon. Don't worry. I've got this."

The door slammed behind her before he could say another word.

And Tim, standing alone in their apartment, stared at the empty doorway and wondered--not for the first time--whether Sarah really understood just how dangerous Neil could be.

----------

The door had barely clicked shut behind her before Sarah turned back, muttering, "Idiot. Where the hell does he live?"

She stormed to Tim's laptop still blinking on the table. He never locked the damn thing. Slack messages were open, a few lines of code half-finished. She ignored it all and clicked into his inbox.

It took less than a minute. A calendar invite for a company offsite last week--barbecue at "Neil Carter's Place." Full name, full address, even a little embedded map. Of course Neil had hosted. Of course he wanted everyone to know where his throne was.

She grabbed a pen, jotted it on a receipt, and headed for the door.

But before she left, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror--and paused.

Her curly blonde hair was bunched up into a high, messy ponytail, a few strands clinging to her flushed cheeks from the earlier rush. The black tank top she'd pulled on in a fury clung to her generous chest, her plump tits pushing against the fabric like they were trying to get a word in. The jeans she chose out of spite hugged her thick thighs with no room to spare, and the curve of her fat ass looked almost cartoonish when she turned sideways.

She looked like she was about to star in an entirely different kind of confrontation.

Sarah didn't care.

"Let him stare," she muttered, grabbing her keys again. "He's about to get an earful."

She slammed the door behind her, again.

Neil's house was exactly what Sarah expected: showy, suburban cocky. A sleek grey facade, new siding, and one of those stupid smart doorbells with the camera blinking like it knew her secrets. The lawn was green, aggressively trimmed. A crooked patio chair sat by the door like it had given up trying to impress anyone.

She climbed the three porch steps and knocked--three sharp bangs, knuckles firm.

No answer.

She knocked again.

Footsteps thudded lazily inside. A moment later, the door swung open, and Neil Carter filled the frame.

Shirtless.

Of course.

He was bigger than she remembered. Broader. His chest was firm, tanned, dusted with just enough hair to look naturally cocky. He had a five o'clock shadow and a smirk that could split glass.

"Can I help you?" he asked, voice low and casual.

Sarah crossed her arms tightly under her chest, which only made them look more pronounced. "You're Neil Carter."

He grinned. "Still am."

"I'm Sarah. Tim's girlfriend."

Something flickered in his eyes. Recognition, amusement. "Twiglet's girl? Well damn. He finally grew up and caught himself a thick one."

Sarah's nostrils flared. "I came here to tell you to leave him alone."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. He told me everything--how you've been harassing him at work. I don't know what kind of insecure little high school theater you're trying to replay, but it's pathetic. You're a grown man. Grow the hell up."

Neil leaned on the doorframe, arms folded. He looked her up and down, openly, slowly. Not creepy--just bold. Like he was taking inventory.

"You know," he said after a moment, "you look really worked up. Kind of hot, actually."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, you came all this way, dressed like that, yelling at me on my own porch. Either you really love your boyfriend..." He smiled. "Or you really needed an excuse to see me."

Sarah stepped forward. "Are you kidding me?"

"Not even a little."

Neil reached behind the door and pushed it open wider. Inside, the house looked cool, clean, and maddeningly inviting.

"Come in. Yell at me where the neighbors can't hear."

Sarah hesitated--but only for a second.

The moment she stepped inside, Sarah felt it: the shift. Not just in temperature--his AC was blasting--but in atmosphere.

Neil closed the door behind her with a soft click. The sound had a strange finality to it.

The interior was sleek and minimal, with leather furniture and a massive TV mounted on the wall. Sports highlights played silently in the background. A half-drunk protein shake sat on the kitchen counter. It smelled faintly of sweat, cologne, and something smoky--like a man who didn't bother with candles but still kept everything clean.

"Nice place," Sarah said stiffly, arms still crossed.

Neil walked past her slowly, brushing just close enough that her shoulder felt the heat of his bare chest. "Thanks. Not bad for a dumb jock, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

He chuckled and turned to face her. "Didn't have to."

Sarah clenched her jaw. "You know why I'm here."

"Sure. To lecture me. And here I thought you came to thank me."

"For what?"

"For putting a little fire in your man. You should've seen him the other day. I teased him about his shoes and he damn near cried in the elevator. You ever see a guy sob in a glass box, six floors up? It's almost poetic."

"Jesus," Sarah muttered.

"You're right," Neil said, strolling into the kitchen. "It's cruel. And maybe a little hilarious. But mostly? It's just easy."

He opened the fridge. "You want a drink?"

"I'm not here to hang out."

He pulled out a couple of cold cans--something dark and imported. "Then let's make it quick. Sit. Yell. Go."

Sarah hesitated, but he was already setting one can down in front of her.

She stayed standing. "Why are you like this?"

Neil cracked his own drink and leaned against the counter, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "Because your boyfriend makes it so damn easy. And because--if I'm being honest--I like watching people squirm."

He tilted his head.

"And right now? You're squirming."

Sarah's stomach tightened. She wasn't sure if it was fury, confusion, or something lower, hotter, crawling along her skin.

Neil took a step toward her. Then another. He reached out--not fast, not threateningly--and lightly touched her ponytail.

"Cute."

She slapped his hand away. "Don't."

He grinned. "Just making sure it was real. You came over here all puffed up, tits bouncing in that tight little tank, talking like a lawyer. But I know what this is."

"Oh, do you?"

"Yeah," he said, closing the space between them with one final step. "It's flirting. Aggressive, angry, turned-on flirting. You just don't know it yet."

Sarah didn't move. She wanted to. She didn't.

Neil held her gaze with that same infuriating calm, like he had all the time in the world to watch her unravel.

"You don't have to like me," he said, stepping around her and heading back to the counter. "But you're in my house, in my space, and you're shaking. So maybe sit down before you fall down."

"I'm not--" Sarah stopped. Her knees did feel a little unsteady.

Against her better judgment, she slid into the tall stool he gestured to, still refusing to touch the drink he'd set in front of her. Her arms folded tighter across her chest, pushing her breasts even higher, though that only seemed to entertain him further.

"You want to know something funny?" Neil asked, leaning back and resting one arm casually on the counter beside her. "In high school, I always knew your name."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You weren't invisible. You were that girl with the big tits and the loud laugh. The one who always had a book in her hand and walked like she didn't care who was watching... but you knew exactly who was."

Sarah swallowed.

"I used to watch you walk past the locker rooms," he went on, voice lower now. "Thought about following you a couple times. Thought about what it'd feel like to put my hands on your--"

"Don't," she snapped.

"--waist," he finished with a smirk. "What'd you think I was gonna say?"

Sarah stood abruptly. "I'm not doing this."

"Doing what?" Neil moved in close again. "Listening? Reacting? Breathing hard? Babe, you're already doing it."

"Stop calling me that."

He brushed a knuckle along her hip. Not aggressive. Just enough. Her breath hitched.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, whispering now. "Say the word. Or..."

His hand slid lower.

Sarah didn't move. She didn't say no. She didn't say anything.

Neil leaned in, mouth brushing just under her ear.

"Yeah," he murmured. "That's what I thought."

Neil's fingers moved slowly, as if giving her time to push him away. She didn't.

His hand rested on the curve of her hip, his thumb slipping just under the waistband of her jeans. His mouth was still near her ear, his breath warm, maddening. "I knew you'd come around."

"I didn't come here for this," Sarah whispered, her voice thin.

"Didn't you?" he said, lips brushing her neck now. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like someone who's been dying to be handled properly."

She hated how good that sounded. Hated the way it curled low in her belly, hot and thick.

"This is wrong," she said.

"And yet you're still here."

Neil's hand slid around to her ass, grabbing it in a way Tim never did--firm, full, unapologetic. Sarah gasped but didn't pull back. He pressed against her, his chest flush to hers, his mouth now just below her jaw.

"I'm going to fuck you," he said softly. "And you're going to let me."

Sarah's body flinched, not from fear but from the sheer raw certainty in his voice. Her thighs squeezed together instinctively.

"You don't even like me," she said.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. "I don't need to like you to want you."

Her lips parted, a protest half-formed--but then his mouth was on hers, rough, demanding, and her protest disappeared into a moan.

She kissed him back.

Hard.

Neil pulled away first, grinning. "Bedroom. Now."

He didn't wait to see if she'd follow. He just walked down the hallway like he already knew the answer.

And Sarah--breathing fast, pulse pounding, knees weak--stood there one long second too many.

Then she followed him.

----------

The bed was big--bigger than it needed to be--and Sarah was splayed across it, hair mussed, thighs trembling, her tank top somewhere on the floor and her jeans hanging halfway off one ankle.

Neil hovered above her, slick with sweat, grinning like a man who'd just broken something precious and liked how it felt in his hands.

"You're loud," he murmured, thrusting slowly.

She gritted her teeth and swallowed a moan. "Shut up."

He did--but only for a second.

Then her phone buzzed. Loud and cheerful. FaceTime. The name glowed on the screen beside them: Tim ????

Neil saw it first. His eyes lit up like Christmas.

"Oh," he breathed. "That's perfect."

Sarah turned her head, breath catching. "No."

"Oh, yes."

She reached for it but Neil pinned her wrist down. "Answer it."

"Neil--"

He moved inside her, deep and slow, as if to remind her who was calling the shots. "Answer. Or I stop."

Sarah stared at him. Then, with a shaky hand, she grabbed the phone.

She hit accept.

The screen lit up with Tim's face--framed by their apartment's dim lighting, his hair still mussed from crying, now styled in hopeful disarray. He gave a small smile when he saw her.

"Hey, babe."

Sarah gripped the phone tightly, trying not to drop it or herself.

"Hi," she said, her voice breathy but pitched up into that bright register she used when pretending to be fine. "Hey. Sorry--I, uh, went for a walk after I talked to him. Just needed air."

Behind her, Neil pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades, still moving inside her--slow, thick, deliberate strokes. His hands gripped her hips firmly, possessively. He didn't say a word, but he didn't need to.

Tim blinked. "You okay? You sound... out of breath."

Sarah forced a smile, pushing her hair out of her face with one shaky hand. "Oh. I, uh... just jogging my brain. Thinking. A lot."

Neil bit her shoulder--gently, cruelly. Sarah's back arched involuntarily. She angled the phone down toward her chest, careful to keep everything above the sheet. The tension in her thighs was unbearable.

"I didn't mean to make you go there," Tim said, eyes sincere. "I just... I really appreciate it. You always take care of me."

Sarah nodded, her lips pressed into a tight smile. She didn't trust her voice.

"You look flushed," Tim said.

She let out a tiny laugh--half panic, half arousal. "It's hot. You know, walking. Fast."

Behind her, Neil grunted quietly, his breath growing heavier. His thrusts picked up, slow but deeper now, calculated. One of his hands reached around her waist, inching downward.

Sarah swallowed a gasp and tilted the camera more toward her face. "Anyway, uh, yeah--I'm fine. Everything's fine."

Tim smiled again, completely unaware.

Neil's fingers brushed lower.

Sarah's legs trembled.

Tim was still talking, his face filling the screen in that slightly awkward, sincere way only he could manage.

"I was thinking we could order Thai tonight," he said. "You always like the peanut sauce one, right? I'll get the crispy tofu--unless you want something else."

Sarah nodded, biting her lip, because Neil's hand had slipped between her legs and was working her in slow, unrelenting circles.

"Yeah," she managed, voice tight, "that... sounds perfect."

Behind her, Neil moved with maddening control--one hand steadying her hip, the other teasing her clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. He leaned forward until his chest was flush against her back, his mouth brushing her ear.

"She doesn't want tofu," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. "She wants to be filled."

Sarah stiffened.

Tim blinked. "What was that?"

"Uh--wind," Sarah said quickly. "I'm outside. Windy."

"Windy?" Tim squinted. "It looks like you're inside somewhere."

"She's inside, alright," Neil breathed, pushing deeper.

Sarah gasped, trying to cover it with a cough. Her thighs clenched around Neil's hand, but he didn't let up. His cock dragged against every tender inch of her, making it harder to think, harder to speak. Every second was a knife-edge.

Tim tilted his head. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Sarah forced a smile, strands of hair clinging to her forehead. "Just... tired."

Neil bent down and whispered again, filthier this time. "Tell him you miss him. While I stretch you wider."

She swallowed a moan and obeyed.

"I miss you," she told Tim, eyes watering from the sheer mental strain.

Tim softened instantly. "I miss you too. You're so amazing, Sarah. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Neil's hand slapped her ass hard--silent but sharp. The sting pushed a sound from her throat she couldn't disguise.

Tim leaned closer. "What was that?"

"Bird," Sarah said, almost breathless. "Crazy bird flew right past my ear."

"Jesus," Tim laughed. "You should come home. You've had a long day."

She nodded, barely able to form words.

Neil's rhythm picked up. Her legs were trembling. Her mouth parted involuntarily.

Tim kept talking. "I'll order early, okay? Love you."

"Love you too," she managed.

And as he hit the red button, his face vanishing from the screen--

Sarah came.

Neil never stopped moving.

The call ended, and Sarah's phone slipped from her hand onto the pillow with a soft thud. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her body still shuddering as aftershocks rippled through her thighs.

Neil didn't stop. If anything, he leaned harder into her, pressing her down into the mattress like he was stamping his signature on something already his.

"Now that he's gone," Neil growled, "you can make real noise."

Sarah whimpered, her cheek pressed to the sheets, her mouth half open, slick with heat and sweat and shame. Her pussy clenched around him involuntarily, still pulsing from the orgasm she hadn't meant to have. He was so deep it felt like he'd split her open from the inside.

"Say it," he panted against her ear. "Say who made you come."

She shook her head, or tried to. He gripped her hair, pulled gently--not cruel, but firm. Guiding.

"Say it."

Her voice was barely there. "You."

"Say my name."

She closed her eyes. "Neil."

He slammed into her once, twice--then growled something low and wordless as he came inside her, hips jerking against her ass in a rhythm that was both furious and final. The heat of it filled her, spread through her belly, and for a long, quiet moment all either of them could do was breathe.

Sarah stared at the discarded phone beside her, the blank screen reflecting only her own flushed, dazed expression.

Tim's name was still glowing at the top of her recent calls.

Neil leaned down, still inside her, and kissed her neck.

"Good girl."

----------

The morning sun slanted through the blinds, striping the bed in soft gold. Sarah lay on her side, still half-buried under the covers, watching Tim sleep.

He was curled up toward her, mouth slightly open, a line of drool on the pillow that would've grossed her out if it didn't somehow feel... harmless. His glasses sat on the nightstand, and he looked younger like this. Gentle. Trusting.

Her phone buzzed.

Sarah flinched, heart kicking up hard and fast.

She reached for it carefully, screen tilted away from Tim.

Neil: Still dripping, babe.

Attached was a photo. A close-up of her ass. From the night before. Neil's hand gripping her hip, thick fingers digging into the flesh. Her skin glistening with sweat. His cock still buried inside her.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. She didn't delete it.

Tim stirred beside her. "Morning," he murmured, eyes still closed.

Sarah jumped. "Hey."

He smiled, eyes finally blinking open. "You okay? You look... flushed."

"I'm fine," she said too quickly, flipping the phone face-down.

Tim leaned in and kissed her cheek, then her shoulder. "Thank you for yesterday," he murmured. "I don't know what you said to him, but I've been feeling better already."

She forced a smile. "Good. That's good."

He snuggled in closer, tucking his face between her breasts. "You always take care of me."

Her throat tightened. She ran her fingers through his hair, eyes flicking to the phone still buzzing with Neil's smug energy beneath it.

And the worst part?

She was getting wet again.

Sarah tried.

She really did.

She showered. Made breakfast. Laughed at Tim's dumb impressions while he read cereal box trivia aloud in voices that didn't belong to him. She even kissed him goodbye as he left for work, waving from the doorway in her robe like nothing had happened.

But the second the door closed, she was already checking her phone again.

Neil had sent another message.

Neil: Still thinking about how you moaned while telling your boyfriend you missed him. Want more?

There was a voice note attached. She didn't play it.

She didn't have to.

She could hear it anyway--her voice, ragged with breath, whispering "I miss you" while Neil's cock was still buried deep inside her. The memory made her legs weak.

By noon, she gave up pretending.

She sent one text:

Sarah: Are you home?

The response was instant.

Neil: Always. Door's open.

She didn't tell Tim she was going out. She didn't even draft a fake errand.

She just got dressed--tight leggings, no panties, a hoodie she could pull off fast--and drove.

Her hands trembled on the wheel. Not from fear.

From knowing exactly what she was about to do.

The door wasn't locked. She pushed it open and stepped inside without knocking.

Neil was already waiting.

He was on the couch, legs spread, shirtless again--this time in grey sweats slung low enough to hint. A cold beer sat sweating on the table beside him. He didn't bother getting up.

"Took you long enough," he said.

Sarah stood in the doorway, not speaking.

He looked her up and down. "No panties."

She said nothing.

"You wore that for me?"

Still nothing.

Neil smirked, pushing off the couch and walking toward her. "You came back without a single excuse. No speech. No fury. Just a wet little cunt and a guilty conscience."

His hand slid down her side, tugging the hoodie up over her hips.

"You ready to stop pretending you hate this?"

Her voice came out quiet. "No."

"No?" he echoed, mock-offended. "Still lying?"

"I'm not--"

Neil grabbed her chin gently, lifting her gaze. "Say it again. Lie to my face."

Sarah's mouth parted. No words came.

Neil grinned.

He pulled the hoodie off in one smooth motion and let it fall to the floor. Her nipples were already hard. Her thighs pressed together reflexively.

"I want to hear you try," he said, pushing her backward toward the couch. "Say you don't want this."

She sat. He knelt in front of her.

"Say it," he whispered, kissing up her inner thigh.

She didn't.

And when his mouth found her--warm, relentless, perfect--she moaned so loud it echoed.

Neil had her bent over the couch, his hips slapping against her ass, when her phone buzzed--again.

Tim ???? -- FaceTime Incoming

Sarah gasped, half in panic, half in pleasure.

Neil slowed. "You know what to do."

"Neil--"

He pulled out suddenly, letting her feel the absence. "Answer. Or I don't finish."

Sarah grabbed the phone with trembling fingers and hit accept.

Tim's smiling face filled the screen.

"Hey babe!"

"H-hi," Sarah stammered, hair wild, cheeks flushed. "I'm, uh, out for another walk."

Neil grinned behind her, already positioning her again.

He pulled her into his lap on the couch--straddling him now, the phone gripped tight in her hand as Tim started rambling about work stress and spreadsheets.

Neil slid inside her again with a slow grind.

Her lips parted around a silent gasp.

Tim didn't notice.

"You look flushed," he said.

Sarah nodded quickly, breathless. "Just warm. Sun's out."

Neil gripped her hips, bouncing her gently. He whispered against her ear: "Don't stop talking."

Tim smiled. "I was thinking we could maybe take a weekend trip soon. Somewhere chill. Just us. Cabin? You'd look hot in flannel."

Neil thrust harder. Sarah's breath caught.

"That... sounds nice," she said weakly.

Neil's hand snaked between her thighs again. His thumb found her clit. She clenched her eyes shut for a second.

Then he moved.

With sudden force, he flipped her again--this time onto her stomach on the coffee table. Her cheek pressed to the cool surface, the phone propped just beside her face. She could still see Tim. Still hear his voice.

"You okay, babe?" he asked. "You sound winded again."

Sarah swallowed. "Just... moving uphill."

Behind her, Neil slammed back in, harder now, both hands gripping her thick hips. He kept her in place while she tried not to scream.

"Say you miss me," Neil growled.

"I miss you," she told Tim, her voice strained with effort.

He smiled, touched. "I miss you too. You're amazing."

Neil leaned over her back, pressing her flat, whispering in her ear, "Then why are you dripping all over someone else's cock?"

Sarah came.

Tim never knew.

----------

The key slid into the door quietly. Sarah eased it open, her heart still pounding--not from fear, but from the afterglow that clung to her thighs like a secret.

Tim was on the couch in sweatpants, barefoot, half-buried in a blanket and surrounded by empty tea mugs and crumpled napkins. He looked up the second she stepped in.

"Hey!" His face lit up. "I was just about to text you."

Sarah smiled--sweet, soft, perfectly curated. "Didn't want to bother you. Figured I'd surprise you."

"You did." He got up, wrapping her in a warm hug. "You smell good."

She laughed lightly. "That's a new one after a walk."

Tim held her tighter, then leaned back. "Are you okay? Really okay?"

Sarah kissed him before she could answer--slow and firm, her lips parting just slightly against his. Tim melted into it immediately.

When she pulled back, her smile hadn't faded. "I'm great," she said.

Tim grinned. "Damn. You've been glowing lately. I mean... not that you weren't always hot."

Sarah laughed again, tousling his hair. "You're sweet."

They moved to the kitchen, her slipping into helper mode with alarming ease--dishing up leftovers, playfully arguing over which glass belonged to who, sliding behind him with her hands on his waist, her fingers grazing lower than usual. Tim barely noticed. Or maybe he just didn't want to.

When they sat down to eat, Sarah rested her foot against his calf beneath the table. Her toes moved slowly. Sensually.

Tim looked up mid-bite. "Whoa. What's gotten into you lately?"

She bit into her food and winked. "Nothing."

But something had.

And it was still inside her.

That night, Sarah pulled Tim to bed before he even finished brushing his teeth.

He blinked in surprise as she tugged his hoodie over his head and shoved him gently onto the mattress. "Whoa," he said through a laugh, "you're really--"

"Shh," she said, straddling him, the fabric of her sleep shirt barely covering her hips.

She didn't wait for him to catch up.

She moved like she had something to prove--grinding against him, pressing his wrists down, pinning him playfully with her weight. Her mouth hovered over his throat as she whispered, "You like being under me, don't you?"

Tim nodded, wide-eyed.

She didn't normally talk like this. And he definitely didn't expect her to slide down, wrap her lips around him with practiced rhythm, and then climb back up without a word.

She reached behind herself, guiding him in, and sank down slowly, letting out a soft gasp--but not for him.

It was too easy to close her eyes and pretend she was still in Neil's lap. Still straddling someone who used her like he owned her.

She rolled her hips harder. Tim groaned beneath her.

"God," he breathed, "Sarah, what's gotten into you?"

She bent forward, pressing her chest to his, lips at his ear.

"You make me feel dirty," she whispered.

Tim shuddered.

She kissed him again, messy and deep, grinding harder now, chasing something she couldn't find with him alone. When she finally came, she bit his shoulder--not hard, but enough to make him gasp.

She whispered, "Good boy," without thinking.

Tim just lay there, dazed, glowing with pride.

He had no idea he was just playing a part.

Tim fell asleep fast.

He always did after sex--sweaty, satisfied, face turned into the pillow like a kid who'd played too hard.

Sarah lay beside him, motionless, eyes wide in the dark.

She could still feel the echo of her orgasm. The sweat cooling between her breasts. The faint ache in her thighs.

She reached for her phone quietly, careful not to shift the mattress too much.

The notification was waiting.

Neil: Thought you might want a replay.

There was a video attached. A short one. She tapped it, and the screen lit her face in blue.

It was from earlier--today.

She was bent over the coffee table, thighs spread wide, her ass red from impact. Her voice, barely audible in the clip, whispered: "I miss you."

Tim's voice, coming through the speaker.

Neil's hand reaching between her legs.

Her own body shaking.

She turned the volume down--but not all the way.

Her breath quickened.

Her thumb hovered over the pause button.

It never pressed it.

The sound in the video was muffled now, but Sarah could still hear it.

Her voice. Strained, trembling.

Tim's voice. Sweet. Trusting.

Neil's hand. Gripping her.

She slid one hand under the sheet.

Her fingers moved slowly at first--more like a test. But the heat was already there, slick and pulsing. It had never really left. She stared at the screen, watching her own body take Neil in, watching herself lie so easily, so convincingly, to the man who now lay sleeping inches away.

Tim murmured something in his sleep. Rolled closer. His arm draped across her waist.

She froze--but didn't stop.

If anything, it made her wetter.

The video looped. Her whisper again: "I miss you."

Her fingers moved faster.

Tim sighed into her shoulder, still deep in sleep.

Sarah bit her lip, eyes glued to the screen, her body tensing until the pressure snapped like a pulled thread. She came quietly--violently--her breath caught in her throat, thighs clenched, stomach trembling.

She lay there afterward, motionless, staring at the ceiling.

Still tingling.

Still holding the phone.

She didn't cry.

She didn't smile.

She just stared--numb, breathless, glowing faintly with shame and something worse.

Satisfaction.

----------

Sarah was at the kitchen sink, rinsing out a mug, when her phone buzzed.

She didn't have to check who it was.

Neil: Next time, you call him.

She froze.

The cup slipped slightly in her hand, clinking against the basin. She dried her fingers on her shorts and picked up the phone.

Sarah: Are you serious?

Neil: Dead serious. I want to feel your mouth around me while you smile at your little boyfriend and ask him about his lunch.

She stared at the screen, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

Another buzz.

Neil: You're ready. Don't lie.

She didn't respond right away.

She sat on the couch, phone in her lap, eyes distant. Her mind flashed back to last time--the sound of Tim's voice, sweet and stupid, filling the room while Neil pressed into her over the coffee table. The risk. The heat. The power.

She hated how wet it made her to even remember it.

Sarah: What if he sees something?

Neil: He won't. You'll be in control. You'll hold the phone. You'll tell him what he wants to hear while I fuck you full of lies.

Another pause.

Neil: Unless you're scared.

She stared at that last message longer than she should've.

Then her thumbs moved.

Sarah: Tell me when.

Neil opened the door before she even knocked.

"You're late," he said, smirking.

Sarah stepped in without a word. She was wearing jeans and a loose sweatshirt, no bra underneath, hair tucked under a ballcap--exactly how she said she'd "look running errands" in case Tim asked.

"Phone's charged?" Neil asked.

Sarah pulled it from her back pocket and flashed it. "Full battery."

"Good girl."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't fight him when he took her hand and led her toward the living room.

The couch had been moved. Lighting adjusted. A standing lamp dimmed just enough to cast a warm, homey glow. There was a bottle of sparkling water with condensation already forming on the table--placed as a prop. The window blinds were half-open to fake "natural daylight."

Neil sat on the edge of the coffee table and looked her over like an artist surveying his subject.

"Lose the pants," he said.

Sarah did.

"No panties. Perfect." He walked around her slowly. "You'll start on your knees. Camera angled low. You'll be 'waiting for a rideshare' or whatever bullshit you want. Just look casual. Distracted. Like a girlfriend checking in."

He crouched behind her, positioning her gently--knees spread, arms straight, back arched. Then he handed her a pillow.

"For your elbows. Don't say I never take care of you."

Sarah let out a slow breath and set the phone down in front of her, camera facing her flushed face.

"You ready?" he asked, already undoing his pants behind her.

She hesitated.

Then: "Yes."

He stepped closer.

"Call him."

Sarah's thumb hovered over Tim's contact.

The air in the room felt too still.

She tapped FaceTime.

The screen brightened as it rang, her own face staring back at her. Flushed. Lips parted. Hair tucked up under her cap like she'd just run a lazy errand.

She took a shaky breath. Her fingers were trembling slightly. Beneath her, Neil was already on his knees, positioning himself behind her.

The screen flashed--connecting...

Then Tim's face appeared.

"Hey!" he said, smiling, clearly surprised. "Wasn't expecting you to call!"

Sarah smiled. "Hey, I--uh--just got out of the store. Thought I'd check in."

"Aw. You miss me already?" he joked.

Behind her, Neil pressed his mouth between her thighs.

Sarah inhaled sharply--but disguised it as a laugh. "Something like that."

Tim chuckled. "You're glowing."

"That good, huh?" she said, breathy.

Neil's tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes. Her elbows trembled on the pillow. She held the phone just high enough to keep her upper body framed, nothing below her chest showing.

Tim babbled about something at work--a new project, an awkward Zoom meeting. Sarah nodded, smiled, made soft humming sounds of agreement while Neil devoured her from behind.

She could feel herself dripping.

Her thighs began to quiver.

Tim paused. "Are you walking? You sound... breathy."

Sarah blinked. "Just, uh, uphill."

Neil's hands gripped her hips tightly.

He stood.

Sarah didn't have time to prepare--he slid inside her in one firm, perfect stroke.

Her eyes widened.

She didn't stop smiling.

Tim kept talking.

Neil began thrusting--slow, measured, in rhythm with the ticking clock on the wall.

Sarah pressed her forearms into the pillow, arched her back harder. She kept the phone angled just right, hiding the way her body jolted with every motion.

Tim was laughing about something now.

She couldn't hear the words. Only his voice.

Only Neil's cock.

Only the heat between her thighs and the shame rising in her throat like a second heartbeat.

"Hey," Tim said, leaning closer into his camera. "You okay?"

Sarah forced a smile, blinking fast. "Yeah. Just... thinking about you."

Neil thrust harder.

She moaned--and covered it with a fake cough. "Dusty out here," she said, voice shaking.

Tim smiled gently. "You're cute when you're flustered."

Behind her, Neil leaned forward and whispered, "Tell him you're full."

Sarah's lip trembled.

"I'm... full of love today," she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

Tim looked touched. "You're the sweetest."

Neil's pace quickened.

She was barely holding on.

And then--

Tim said, "Babe, can I see your face better?"

Tim's voice was soft through the phone.

Sarah shifted the phone's angle just slightly, lifting her head, bringing her flushed face fully into frame. Her lips were pink, a little swollen. Her hair clung to her temples under the cap. Her eyes flicked up at the camera, the smile she forced small and trembling.

"Better?" she asked.

Tim's smile widened. "Much. You look cute today."

Behind her, Neil didn't respond with words. He just moved.

One hand on her shoulder. The other gripped her hair, tugging her back gently but firmly until she was upright, on her knees between his thighs. She knew what he wanted.

She shot him a warning glance. Shook her head--just barely.

He raised his eyebrows, daring her.

And then she opened her mouth.

His cock slid over her lips slowly, the taste of herself still faint on his skin. She tilted the phone up, holding it high so only her head and shoulders were visible. From Tim's view, she was just kneeling casually. Maybe crouched on a sidewalk or near a bush.

Inside her mouth, Neil began to move.

Tim kept talking. "You must've really missed me. Two calls in two days. You're turning into the clingy one now."

Sarah let out a strangled sound she twisted into a laugh. "Guilty," she said, her voice muffled, tongue fighting for space.

Neil gripped her hair tighter.

Tim tilted his head. "What are you doing right now?"

"Waiting... for a ride," she breathed, pulling off briefly to answer, then taking him back in before he could ask anything else. "Just--killing time."

Neil's hips rolled in small, silent motions. His cock hit the back of her throat again.

Sarah gagged--but stifled it behind her smile.

"You okay?" Tim asked.

She nodded, eyes watering. "Just... allergies."

Then Neil pulled free.

Suddenly.

And without warning, he gripped the base of his cock and came.

The first rope hit her cheek. The second streaked across her mouth. The third--fast, high--landed right across her upper lip and the corner of the screen.

Tim blinked.

"Wait. What was that?"

Sarah's brain blanked. Her hand shot up to wipe, her elbow knocking the phone sideways. The camera spun--briefly showing a flash of skin, a shadow of motion--then settled on her palm covering the lens.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "Fucking birds! I just got hit--Jesus, are you kidding me?!"

Tim sounded stunned. "Wait--what?"

Sarah scrubbed at her face, still off camera. "Bird shit, Tim. I'm literally under a tree. It dropped right on my fucking face."

There was a pause. Then:

"Holy shit," Tim said, half-laughing. "Are you okay?"

Sarah forced a breathless chuckle. "I feel disgusting."

"Go wash it off! That's so gross."

"I'm gonna. I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yeah--please do. Yikes. Love you."

"Love you too."

She ended the call.

The phone dropped to the floor.

Sarah sank back, her lips still smeared, her thighs sticky and trembling, breath coming in shallow pulls.

Neil stood above her, grinning.

"Didn't even flinch," he said. "You're getting good at this."

Sarah didn't answer.

She just wiped her mouth with the back of her hand--slowly.

And realized how wet she still was.

----------

The message came late.

Sarah was in bed, lying beside Tim, pretending to be asleep. Her phone buzzed silently on her nightstand, screen facing down.

She didn't move until she was sure Tim was out cold.

Then she rolled over, pulled it under the covers, and looked.

Neil: No more hiding.

Another buzz.

Neil: Next time, you say it. Out loud. While he watches.

Sarah swallowed.

Neil: I want to see your tits bounce. I want him to wonder if you're coming... while you tell him it's just a massage.

Another buzz. A photo this time.

It was her--last session. Bent over, hair pulled back, Neil's hand gripping her hip. She hadn't even known he'd taken it. Her mouth was parted in mid-moan. Her eyes wild.

Neil: You're ready. You already love this. Time to admit it.

She stared at the screen until it dimmed.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

She didn't answer.

But her legs rubbed together beneath the sheets.

And her next message came two hours later.

Sarah: Tell me what to wear.

Sarah didn't knock this time.

She let herself in.

Neil was already in the living room, adjusting the lighting and placing a folded towel over a cushioned bench like he was prepping a spa treatment. He turned as she walked in and smiled.

"Took you long enough."

She wore only a long trench coat over her lingerie. When she slipped it off, Neil exhaled appreciatively.

A tiny black thong hugged her hips. Her full breasts were bare--round, heavy, nipples already tightening from the room's cool air. She crossed her arms, not from modesty, but to stall the tremble in her fingers.

Neil stepped closer and ran one hand along her hip, slowly.

"Good girl."

She didn't flinch.

"Here's how it'll go," he said, circling her now. "You're on your stomach. I'm 'massaging' you from behind. You hold the phone on the bench next to your face. Smile. Talk softly. He'll see your shoulders bounce. He'll hear your voice. He'll believe everything."

"And if he doesn't?"

Neil smiled, lifting her chin. "Then he'll know what kind of girl he really has."

She said nothing.

He guided her onto the bench--face down, arms bent, breasts resting heavily on the towel.

He placed the phone near her cheek and adjusted the frame. On screen, her hair was tousled. Her shoulders slightly gleamed with oil Neil had rubbed on her back. She looked relaxed. Flushed. Soft.

Deceivable.

"Ready?" he asked, already sliding the thong down her hips.

Sarah reached for the phone.

She tapped Tim's name.

It rang.

The call rang twice.

Sarah's heart thundered.

Then Tim answered, his face lighting up.

"Hey! Again? I'm getting spoiled."

She smiled gently, her cheek resting on the towel. "Hey, you."

Tim blinked. "Wait... where are you?"

Sarah angled the camera just slightly so he could see her upper back, shoulders glistening, the slight sway of her breasts against the towel beneath her. Her nipples grazed the fabric, sending sharp little signals down her spine.

"At a spa," she said softly. "Massage appointment. I needed to relax."

Tim's brows rose. "Wow. Looks fancy."

"Deep tissue," she said. "Very deep."

Behind her, Neil had already positioned himself--his cock sliding slowly into her from behind. She was slick, hot, open. Ready.

She didn't flinch. Just breathed.

Tim grinned. "I'm jealous."

Neil moved.

A slow, deliberate thrust.

Sarah closed her eyes for a second and made a small sound--half moan, half sigh.

Tim laughed. "That good, huh?"

Sarah nodded slowly. "You have no idea."

Neil gripped her hips tighter, his pace patient, cruelly smooth. Every motion sent her tits swaying gently in frame, just enough that Tim noticed--but didn't question.

"You look amazing," he said, voice low. "Peaceful. Almost glowing."

Sarah bit her lip.

Neil leaned down, whispering into her ear, just off-camera. "Say it."

She swallowed. "It feels so good."

Tim chuckled. "Damn. Remind me to book the same place."

Another thrust. Deeper.

Neil's hand crept up, pinching her nipple just out of view. She stifled a cry.

"Say more," he whispered.

Sarah let out a breath. "I needed this so badly."

Tim tilted his head. "That tense, huh?"

Neil picked up the pace. His cock dragged over every sensitive spot, his fingers digging into her soft hips. Sarah's voice wavered.

"I'm so full right now," she said, her words barely above a whisper.

Tim blinked. "Wait--what was that?"

"Sorry," she said quickly. "He's pressing down. Full pressure."

She gasped as Neil thrust hard, making her bounce. Her breasts swayed openly now, nipples taut and glistening with sweat. Her cheeks flushed.

Tim noticed--but smiled. "You're incredible. Can't wait to see you later."

Neil's hand slid between her thighs, stroking her clit with slow circles as he continued fucking her.

Sarah gasped.

"Say it," Neil hissed.

She hesitated.

Then, breathless, to Tim:

"This is exactly what I needed."

Tim grinned. "You deserve it, babe. You always take care of everyone else."

Neil began thrusting harder.

Sarah trembled.

She was going to come.

On camera.

While Tim watched.

And she didn't stop it.

Neil was no longer gentle.

Each thrust now hit with deliberate weight, forcing Sarah forward against the padded bench. Her breasts rocked in plain view, soft and heavy, nipples taut. She pressed her cheek into the towel, eyes fluttering, mouth half open as she tried to control her breathing.

Tim was still watching.

Still smiling.

Still clueless.

"You look so relaxed," he said. "I'm glad you did this. You've been so tense lately."

Sarah nodded, lips parting. "Mmhm."

Neil's hand gripped her hair now, pulling her head back just enough so her face stayed squarely in frame. His fingers rubbed harder between her thighs--circling her clit in rhythm with every slow, deep stroke.

She couldn't take much more.

Neil leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear just out of view.

"Tell him," he whispered. "Tell him you love this."

She didn't respond.

His cock slammed in harder.

"Tell him."

Sarah shook her head slightly.

Neil leaned over her back, one hand sliding under to squeeze her breast--tugging at her nipple, twisting it gently. The other pressed into her lower belly, pinning her to the bench.

"You've said it with your body," he hissed. "Now say it with your mouth."

Sarah's breath came in rapid little bursts.

Tim's voice floated through the phone. "What's that sound? You okay?"

Sarah turned just slightly, her eyes glistening with heat and guilt.

And then she said it.

"I love this."

She whispered it, just soft enough to pass as praise for the massage.

But Neil knew.

She felt him stiffen behind her.

His rhythm changed--desperate, claiming, hungry.

Sarah trembled, thighs quaking.

Her fingers dug into the towel.

"I want this," she whispered again, louder now. "I... I needed this. I needed it so bad."

Tim smiled warmly. "Then enjoy it. You earned it."

Sarah's orgasm hit like a wave--sharp, staggering, involuntary. Her body clamped around Neil's cock, her hips twitching. Her moan was muffled into the towel, but it vibrated through her throat. Her tits jolted forward. Her toes curled.

Neil grunted behind her, then came--deep, slow, thick.

She felt it fill her.

Tim watched her exhale deeply and smiled, none the wiser.

"Looks like you're melting," he said with a grin.

Sarah's voice was hoarse. "Yeah. I... I am."

"You should do this more often."

She smiled faintly, eyes glassy.

"I just might."

She ended the call.

The room fell silent--except for the sound of Neil zipping up.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't kiss her.

He just lit a cigarette and watched her lie there--sweaty, spent, used.

"You're mine now," he said, exhaling smoke.

Sarah didn't look at him.

She didn't have to.

She already knew it was true.

----------

They lay tangled on Neil's couch, Sarah's leg draped over his thigh, her chest still rising and falling as the afterglow faded. A faint sheen of sweat made her skin glisten, and she hadn't yet bothered to collect her clothes.

Neil lit a cigarette and passed it to her. She took a drag, eyes closed, and let the silence settle.

Then Neil said, casually:

"What if your boyfriend watched me fuck you?"

Sarah's eyes snapped open.

He smirked. "Don't freak out. Just imagine it. He's sitting there on the couch, glasses slipping down his nose, watching his sweet girlfriend get pounded by the guy who made his life hell."

She stared at him, lips parting. "You're insane."

"Am I?" Neil exhaled smoke through his nose. "I'm not saying you--I'm saying someone who looks just like you. A twin, maybe. A twin he didn't know existed."

She blinked. "You want me to... pretend to be my own twin sister?"

"I want you," he said, flicking ash into a tray, "to look him in the eye while I fuck you and he still doesn't know it's you."

Sarah laughed--but it was short, nervous, hot.

"He'd never buy it."

"He bought every call, every bounce of your tits, every orgasm. He believed it when you told him a pigeon came on your face. He'll believe anything."

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Her heart was pounding again.

"It's too much."

"Which means," Neil said, leaning down to bite her neck, "you're going to do it."

She didn't respond.

He kissed her collarbone.

Then her breast.

Then lower.

Sarah stared at the ceiling a moment longer--then reached for her phone.

Neil had a plan. Of course he did.

He set up everything before Sarah even arrived--lighting, music, drinks, a low-cut dress in cherry red that hugged curves she never let Tim see. He laid it across the bed like a costume waiting for its actor.

Sarah sat at the vanity, brushing foundation into her cheeks. Her hair was down now--curled, wild, swept over one shoulder in a way that screamed not Sarah. Dark eyeliner made her eyes heavier, sultry. Her lips were glossy, parted slightly. She looked... dangerous.

Neil stood behind her, admiring the transformation.

"You're almost too convincing," he said. "I might start forgetting who's who."

Sarah met his gaze in the mirror.

"I'm Samantha," she said, testing the name. Her voice was lower, smoother. "The hot, slutty twin Sarah never talks about."

"Now you're getting it."

She grabbed her phone and tapped out a text to Tim:

Sarah: Hey babe--crazy update. My sister's in town. Long story. You might meet her. Don't be weird, lol. She's... intense.

Tim replied almost instantly.

Tim: Wait, what sister? I didn't know you had one??

Sarah: It's complicated. We don't talk much. Drama. Just... don't ask questions. Just be nice. She's only here tonight.

She turned to Neil, phone still in hand.

"He's in," she said.

Neil grinned. "Of course he is."

Sarah stepped into the red dress. No bra. No panties. Just skin and fabric.

Neil zipped her up slowly. "You're going to look him in the eye and let me take you apart."

"I'm going to smile while I do it," she said.

And she meant it.

Tim stood nervously on Neil's porch, double-checking the address Sarah texted him.

Sarah: Neil's agreed to apologize. My sister Samantha's with him too. Be nice, okay? She's a lot.

He rang the bell.

The door swung open, and there she was.

Same face. Same body. But... not Sarah.

Hair down and wavy, lips slick and red, eyes outlined in smoky shadow. A tight red dress hugged every curve like a second skin, deep cleavage forming a shadow between her breasts. She cocked one eyebrow at him and leaned against the doorframe.

"You must be Tim," she said. Her voice was lower, more sultry, with none of Sarah's gentle cadence. "I'm Samantha."

Tim blinked, clearly stunned. "I... wow. Yeah. Hi."

"You look just like your texts," she said, stepping back and letting him in. "Nervous. A little soft. Kinda cute."

"Uh... thanks?"

Neil was on the couch already, shirt unbuttoned, drink in hand.

"Twiglet," he said with a lazy smirk. "Glad you came."

Tim glanced between them. "Sarah said you... wanted to apologize?"

Neil gestured to the armchair across from him. "Sure. Sit down. Let's clear the air."

Tim sat, awkward and stiff. Samantha--Sarah--moved behind the couch, pouring herself a drink, hips swaying like a metronome of menace.

Neil leaned forward.

"Look, I was a dick to you. High school, the office--whatever. You were an easy target. But you don't deserve it. So... sorry."

Tim blinked. "Really?"

Neil shrugged. "Sure. Clean slate."

Samantha flopped onto the couch beside Neil, one leg crossed over the other, the hem of her dress riding up just enough to show the creamy swell of her thigh.

Tim tried not to stare.

Samantha caught him anyway.

"You know," she said, sipping her drink, "Sarah never mentioned how cute you are."

Tim laughed nervously. "She didn't mention you at all."

Samantha leaned in conspiratorially. "Yeah, well. She's always been a little jealous."

Neil put a hand on her knee.

Tim's eyes flicked there.

"I mean, look at you," Samantha purred. "All quiet and polite. Probably a gentleman in the sheets too, huh?"

Tim flushed. "Uh--"

Samantha didn't wait. She swung one leg over Neil's lap and straddled him, her arms draping around his neck. The movement was so fluid, so casual, it took Tim a second to register what was happening.

"I've always preferred bad boys," she said, loud enough for Tim to hear.

Neil grinned and cupped her ass through the dress.

Tim stood up. "Uh... should I be here?"

Samantha looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes half-lidded.

"Why not? Sarah told me everything. You've seen worse, right?"

"She--she said you were... intense. Not that you'd--"

She smiled wickedly. "Do this?"

Neil pulled down her top. Her tits spilled free--full, perfect, the nipples already taut.

Tim's mouth opened. No words came out.

Samantha leaned back against Neil, her hands pulling up her dress until nothing covered her anymore.

Neil slid inside her.

Tim didn't move.

Samantha moaned softly and looked directly at him.

"Sarah's always been into boring guys," she said breathlessly. "I like the ones who fuck."

Neil thrust upward, deep and hard. Samantha rocked with him, her breasts bouncing in view, her voice pitching higher.

Tim watched.

Frozen.

Embarrassed.

Turned on.

Samantha never broke eye contact.

She was Sarah.

And he still didn't know.

Neil's hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into the flesh of her ass as he thrust upward with a rhythm that grew harder, rougher. Sarah--no, Samantha--rode him slowly at first, her back arched, her tits bouncing with every impact.

Tim stood near the entryway, frozen in place.

His eyes locked on the scene before him, his mouth half-open, blinking like he couldn't process it.

Sarah tilted her head toward him as she moved, her voice light, breathless, amused.

"You've never seen two people fuck before?" she teased, her voice tinged with a soft pant. "You're so polite about it."

Tim tried to look away--but didn't.

He couldn't.

Her hips rolled in slow, perfect circles, grinding down into Neil's lap. Neil groaned under her, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, squeezing them roughly before pulling at her nipples. Sarah moaned, loud and real, and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"I bet Sarah doesn't ride you like this," she said to Tim without looking directly at him.

"She's so... quiet. Gentle. Isn't she?"

Tim's face flushed. He couldn't answer.

She bounced harder now, thighs slapping against Neil's, her tits swaying wildly. Her moans grew sharper, louder, more raw with each passing second. Neil met her movement with hard, punishing thrusts, each one echoing through the room.

And Tim watched.

Every second.

He watched as Neil's mouth sucked at her breast, as Sarah tilted her head back and cried out, "Harder." He watched as her hands braced against Neil's chest, her nails digging in, her body moving with a rhythm that said this wasn't new.

That this was rehearsed.

Sarah reached her peak with her eyes locked on Tim's.

She moaned, "God, yes--fill me up," and Neil did just that--gripping her hard and slamming her down one last time as he came with a deep, guttural growl.

Sarah trembled, still riding the aftershocks, her breath shuddering, her body slick with sweat.

She slid off of Neil slowly, legs wobbly, and walked--completely naked--to retrieve her drink.

She took a sip, then turned to Tim.

"Relax," she said, still panting. "You're cute. But you're not really my type."

Tim stammered. "I--I should go."

"Probably."

He turned, practically stumbled for the door, and let himself out without another word.

The door shut.

Neil was still sprawled on the couch, grinning like the devil himself.

Sarah stood, sipping her drink, then checked her phone.

Tim: Your sister is... definitely something. Glad I got to meet her. Hope everything's okay with her and Neil...

Sarah smiled, typed:

Sarah: Sorry I missed you! Samantha can be a bit... wild. Hope she didn't scare you ????

She hit send.

Neil lit a cigarette, watching her with lazy admiration.

"You're terrifying," he said.

Sarah turned to the mirror on the wall, still naked, mascara smudged, her thighs still glistening from everything Neil had left inside her.

She met her own eyes in the reflection.

And smiled.

----------

Sarah knew.

It wasn't just a game anymore.

The moment she'd ridden Neil in front of Tim--looked him dead in the eye while moaning another man's name--something inside her had snapped into place. Not broken. Settled. Accepted.

She wasn't pretending anymore.

She belonged to Neil now.

Body, appetite, control.

And still... Tim never knew.

They went on like before. Sarah smiled sweetly in the mornings, kissed Tim's cheek, made eggs, talked about "taking space" from her sister, who had "gone back out west." Tim never questioned it.

The Facetime calls continued. Just less accidental, more scheduled.

Neil would fuck her while she cooed to Tim about laundry, grocery lists, weekend plans. Sometimes she'd wear a Bluetooth headset and pretend she was cooking while Neil bent her over the counter. Tim would hear clinking dishes and moans muffled into her shoulder and assume she was making sauce.

Once, she let Neil finish on her chest while she read aloud a list of groceries to Tim. She laughed when she said "double cream," and Neil bit her neck hard enough to leave a mark. Tim assumed it was a curling iron burn.

The guilt had vanished.

In its place: a quiet, savage joy.

She got off on how much she could get away with. On how easily Tim loved her. Trusted her. On how much Neil hated him and still used him to get her wetter.

And when she kissed Tim goodnight, sweet and soft in bed, she'd smile to herself and think:

He'll never know.