Something's Off [HUSB POV][CH26-31]

Note: If you've read my stories before, you may recognize this series from my previous account. I've decided to continue it here and pick up where I left off.

26. Between the pages

I swung my keys loosely in my fingers as I made my way back home. Ahead, two dogs were pressed close together, their tails wagging in perfect rhythm as they nuzzled and rubbed against each other with deep affection.

The sight pulled me into a distant memory of her and myself. How cute, I thought, smiling to myself. I crouched down to pat them, running my fingers over their soft fur. They looked so content, lost in their own little world. For a moment, I felt myself disappearing in that simple moment, peaceful and undisturbed until a voice slipped into the air behind me.

I turned my head quickly, an uneasy chill crawling along my neck. It was the old man, standing with the usual expression on his face, as disgusting as ever.

"Hmm, these dogs are cute," he said.

"Yeah," I replied, slowly standing. I tried to keep my tone polite as I asked, "How's your back?"

He shifted slightly and rubbed at his lower back. "So-so," he said with a faint squint. "Hurts now and then, but I'm fine most days. Only when I stretch too much, it gives me a little stab."

Watching him closely, I realized it might be true, his posture did seem a little off. It must hurt a lot at that age.

I was kinda glad when he got hurt, but now I do feel... kinda bad. He lives alone, no one to look after him. It must feel terrible. "I should have been more careful that day," I said with a guilty tone. "I am so-"

Before I could complete the sentence, he stepped closer and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"It's fine, it's fine. No need to beat yourself up over it. Everything..." He paused, smiling subtly, "... happens for a reason."

He turned and walked away, one hand holding the other behind his back. I watched him go, the quiet street feeling calmer by the moment. It made me realize, how easily doubts, once they are planted, can twist the way you see someone. He really did seem like just a harmless old man. Maybe a bit too touchy, but at that age, living alone day after day, perhaps you start reaching for any bit of warmth you can find.

I sat on the sofa, scrolling through my phone when I noticed an unread message from Ray.

Ray: Good evening. It feels like we haven't spoken in quite some time. I hope you and your wife are both doing well.

I let out a sigh. The message was from a few days ago. Must have slipped my mind. It's best not to create unnecessary tension by ignoring and instead just give a small and simple reply.

Me: We're both fine. Just been tied up with work lately. Hope you are doing great.

I switched apps and started scrolling through videos when a new notification suddenly appeared on the screen -- A message. From Ray.

Ray: I have been doing great. Lets catch up sometime?

Catch up? Sure, in your dreams.

Me: Sure, I will drop by when I am free.

Ray: Great! See you soon.

See you soon? It's definitely not going to be soon, Ray. I leaned back into the sofa, my thumb still hovering over the phone screen. I wonder how can a person have the balls to message someone with such sweet gentle messages, after doing something like that to their wife. Was it really nothing to you? Or am I the one making too much of it?

The door opened. She stepped in, her hair slightly ruffled from the breeze outside.

"How was shopping?" I asked.

She paused for a brief second before replying, "Yeah... It was great." she replied with a smile.

My mouth opened halfway before shutting itself down. I didn't want to sound doubtful but I also wanted to confirm something. "Hmm... by any chance, were you two back before half an hour ago?" I asked, watching her closely.

She tilted her head. "No, Of course not. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing," I said quickly, leaning back. "I could've sworn I heard Lina's voice somewhere outside, but..." I scratched my head, sinking into the sofa, "... maybe I misheard it."

"Yeah," her voice cracked a little as she said, you probably misheard it. How could you hear Lina's laughter when we were out shopping?"

I nodded faintly, letting it go. "Also, I met the old man earlier by the way," I said. "He seemed in a little pain, so I was thinking maybe we should go together and see properly how he's doing. He did say he's fine, but still... it would be good, out of courtesy."

She was quiet for few seconds, her gaze flicking away before returning. "Sure... yeah, we can do that."

"Alright, maybe in a couple of hours," I said, looking at the clock.

She gave a small smile and headed inside, her steps quiet, leaving me with the soft hum of the clock and the fading sound of her moving further inside.

Few hours passed, I carried the small bag of fruit in one hand as we walked to his door. A couple of light knocks, and the old man opened it, leaning slightly on the frame. We stepped inside, and the familiar stench hit me instantly -- that same thick, musty smell, mixed with something stale and sour. I'd never gotten used to it, and today was no different.

We sat on the sofa, and the three of us started with harmless small talk. I noticed he wasn't staring at my wife like the last time we'd been here. No darting eyes, no creepy looks -- just polite conversation. It actually made me feel more comfortable. Maybe I'd been overthinking before.

Somehow, the conversation drifted toward family. He frowned faintly and said he had some pictures he wanted to show us. "They're upstairs," he added, slowly pushing himself up. "Come on, I'll show you."

I stood up, instinctively offering, "Need a hand?"

He shook his head with that stubborn smirk. "Dont worry... I'll manage. You two go on ahead. I'll follow behind."

I nodded and started up the stairs, the dim hallway stretching upward into a narrow landing. After a few steps, I glanced back and she was walking just ahead of him.

"Come on, you're lagging behind," I called lightly.

She gave me a small smile. "Yeah... it's just my heels. They're hurting a little. I'll be right there."

I paused on the stairs, waiting, my eyes on her but not really thinking much of it. She moved slowly, each step measured. The old man's frame was hidden entirely behind her, his head just out of sight over her shoulder. From where I stood, I could only see the move of her skirt as it brushed against her thighs again and again with each step.

The way she walked... it wasn't exactly limping, but there was a certain move in her hips, a gentle break in her movements that almost looked too... intentional for someone claiming to have sore feet.

By the time they reached me, the air had shifted -- the upstairs felt cooler, but dim and strangely still, like a place that didn't see much use. The smell was different here too, less stale but with a faint, almost sweet note.

"You okay?" I asked, looking at her. "Geez, did it hurt a lot?"

She smiled faintly, brushing it off. "It's fine now."

The old man led us into a narrow upstairs room. The light was dim, a single yellow bulb humming in the corner, barely bright enough to cut through the stale air. Dust drifted lazily, stirred by our footsteps.

From an old wooden shelf, he pulled a thick, worn photo album, the leather cover cracked and soft from age.

The old man set the thick album down on the small bed in the corner of the dim room. He lowered himself into a creaky chair with a slow grunt, the springs groaning under his weight.

I crouched on my knees beside the bed so I could look at the photos properly. The leather cover was cracked and the pages smelled faintly of dust and something older, heavier--like the whole thing had been shut away for decades. My wife stood just behind me, resting both hands lightly on my shoulders.

Every now and then, her fingers would tighten, pressing harder into me. I glanced up once.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

She gave a quick smile. "I'm fine... look at this one, isn't it beautiful?" She pointed to a photo of the old man with a young woman in a bright summer dress.

The old man's voice followed as he leaned forward, eyes on the page.

"That was my wife... she had a way of keeping hold of me, especially in hard times. Never let go until I could breathe easy again."

I nodded, running my hand over the glossy page. "You look quiet young."

He chuckled softly. "Back then I had more energy... we spent a lot of time together, day and night. She always knew exactly how to... lift my spirits."

I felt my wife's weight shift slightly behind me, her fingertips tracing along my shoulder before gripping again. She was probably leaning in to see better, so I tilted the album toward her.

The old man kept talking, naming relatives in each photograph.

"She... knew what I needed without me saying a word. Always attentive. Always willing to... help, no matter what mood I was in."

Her breath was hot near my ear now, and she bent lower, our faces nearly touching as I turned another page. I felt her lean more of her weight on me, like she was getting tired from standing so long.

"You okay?" I asked again.

"Mm... yeah. Just... a little sore from standing," she whispered, then looked down at the album with a soft smile. "Keep... going."

By the time we reached the last page, I was crouched there so long my knees had started to ache. I closed the album and held it out toward the old man. He reached forward, his gnarled fingers brushing mine as he took it from me.

Something wet and warm covered my knuckles.

It was... very sticky.

I blinked down at my hand, puzzled. It must've been sweat, right? Or maybe an some oil or the polish he used on his furniture. Without thinking much of it, I rubbed it off against my pants.

The old man tucked the album under his arm and pushed himself up from the chair.

"Well," the old man said with a faint smile, "glad you came by."

I smiled back, brushing off my pants where that damp spot had been. "Of course. We'll see you again soon."

27. Poor dog

I stepped through the doorway first, the hallway was dim similar to the room. My eyes adjusted slowly, still hazy from the stale air of the old man's room. I'd barely taken three steps when her voice called out, sharp but tensed.

"Wait--"

The door was barely open, and her arm was stretched through the narrow gap, fingers gripping the frame.

"It's stuck," she said, a little out of breath.

The old man's voice rumbled from behind her,

"It seems... the door's acting up again. What luck! Guess, we will be spending some more time here."

I thought I saw something on the old man's face as my eyes adjusted -- A smile? No, maybe I imagined it.

I grabbed the handle from my side, giving it a pull. Nothing.

"It's stuck pretty hard," I said, slightly surprised.

I gave it another tug, harder this time, the wood groaning faintly but refusing to budge. One more pull, my fingers tightening around the cool metal, still no movement.

Just then, her fingers softly touched my hand, slightly shaking. Probably trying her best to to do the same.

I braced my shoulder and pushed against the door.

"Not like that," the old man said loudly. "Give it a little pressure... steady... We will take care of this side."

"Ok," I replied back, slowly curling fingers at the edge of the door.

I started shoving and rocking it, but the thing barely budged.

The old man voice came through again, "Yeah... that's it... little push here, little pull there... don't rush it."

His voice... they sounded like it came from somewhere below "Hmm, Are you sitting on the floor?" I asked.

After few seconds of strange pause, my wife called out, broken up in little bursts. "He's... uh...... trying to... m-move it... from the bottom."

"Oh," I muttered, feeling a bit stupid for asking. "That makes sense." I crouched as well, trying to do the same, hoping maybe this would be enough to open this damn door.

I kept pushing, my arms straining. A few seconds passed... then my ears caught something -- low, quiet... like voices being smothered behind a wall.

*muffled noise* *muffled noise* *muffled noise*

My ears twitched at the sound. Hmm?

*muffled noise* *muffled noise* *muffled noise*

I slowly lifted my head up, squinting my eyes a little. Her fingers... they were no more gripping the edge of the door.

For some reason, my face leaned forward little closer, ears pressing close to the door. It wasn't those faint muffled noises anymore but my own heartbeat, pounding hard in my ears.

Thud... Thud... Thud...

The muffled noises were gone, leaving nothing but a heavy, unnatural silence that seemed to press heavy against my heart.

A sudden, dull and light bang shook the door, snapping me upright. I jerked my head back from the door, blinking in confusion, my eyes fixed on the frame as if it might give me an answer.

"H-Hey," I called out, my voice cracking. "Everything good... in there?"

"Of course," the old man answered quickly, his tone almost... cheerful? "Let's focus on opening the door."

My chest tightening for reasons I couldn't explain, something about the silence from her... made me uneasy. "Hey, You okay?" I raised my voice this time.

Her reply came back just as quickly. "Yeah... don't... worry... just... focus on the door. I'm... just taking... a break... for a minute."

She was huffing as she replied. Shit. She was probably very tensed--enough for her to speak like that. That also explains why she went complete silent. Trapped in that creepy, dim room with him. God, this situation must be scarier than a horror movie for her...

I leaned my head toward the door, raising my voice just enough. "Hang in there, okay? I'll get this damn thing open, I promise."

From inside, the old man's tone came warm, but with a weird edge. "Hear that? Look how much he cares for you. Really giving it his all out here." A faint chuckle followed. "Aren't you a lucky woman? A husband who'd push and strain himself just to get to you."

I grunted and shoved my shoulder against the wood, muttering, "You are right about that, she's lucky."

The old man kept going. "How about a word for him, hm? Something to keep him going. A little... motivation will do him good."

I chuckled at the old man's demand. But strangely enough, I wanted to hear it. Just a few words of motivation from her mouth would be enough for me to conquer a nation. This damn door is nothing. My ears waited eagerly for those words... But there was nothing. Only a few seconds of... silence.

Then finally, her voice came through, uneven, breaking into pauses like she had to catch her breath between each word. "Y-You... can... do it... keep... going... you're... doing... so... good..."

Her tone made my grip tighten unconsciously on the handle. She almost sounded like she was trying to push the words out, like something kept stopping her mid-sentence.

"That's it," the old man's voice purred from inside. "Keep telling him... let him know how much you... appreciate him."

Another pause... a faint, shaky inhale from her... then, softer, "I... believe... in you... don't... stop..."

Something about the way she said that last part had heat crawling up the back of my neck. I cleared my throat, refocusing on the door. "Alright... just a little more..." I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else.

I muttered few curses under my breath and gripped the handle harder, shoving my shoulder against the door. The frame groaned, but it didn't give. Gritting my teeth, I pushed again, putting more effort into forcing it open.

With one last shove, the door creaked open.

The dim light inside barely cut through the shadows, but I caught sight of her--sweat beading along her forehead, strands of hair sticking to her skin. The old man straightened up behind her, flashing me a grateful smile.

"You are a strong guy. Knew you'd get it," he said, patting the doorframe.

She stayed quiet, just stepping past me. I followed her out into the hall, the air outside felt quite refreshing. The old man stood by the doorway. "Come by again sometime," he said warmly.

We started walking back, and I tried to lighten the mood. "Man, his place is like something out of a horror movie. Creepy as hell."

She gave a small laugh, finally speaking.

"Yeah... I was scared for a moment, but he... calmed me down."

"Oh really?" I asked, turning my head to glance at her, but something else caught my eye.

... Did she...

Did she just smil--?

My foot clipped something on the ground, jerking my attention forward and bringing them on the dogs lying ahead. The same two I'd seen in the afternoon, curled up together, like a happy married couple.

But now... things were different. There was a third one, mounted on the female from before, its hips pumping in quick, rough bursts. The other dog, the male I'd seen earlier, just lay there a few feet away, head resting on its paws like it didn't care, eyes shut, sound asleep.

I slowed my pace, staring at the scene. "Huh..." They were mating in heat, so desperately. I felt this weird pang in my chest for the one lying there. Poor guy. She'd been rubbing all over him earlier, tail wagging, looking all sweet... and now she's letting some other mutt rail her like that right next to him.

I muttered under my breath, "What a whore, Cheating on your partner like that..." My brow furrowed. "Well... guess it's not like they've got the same rules we do."

Still, I shook my head, glancing one more time at the male lying there. "Poor dog."

We were almost at our door when a voice called out from behind us, bright and sing-song.

"Hellooo~!"

I turned and saw Lina waving, her husband trailing a step behind with that easy grin of his. Her energy was the same as always--bouncy, cheerful, like she'd just stepped out of a commercial.

"Oh, hey," I greeted, slowing to let them catch up.

"We were just talking about you two," Lina said, clasping her hands together with a little bounce. "We're having a small dinner at our place tomorrow night. Nothing too fancy, just... friends, good food, maybe a little wine." Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she said it, tilting her head toward my wife.

Her husband added, "Yeah, you guys should come. It would be a nice neighbor's get together."

"That's sweet," I said, glancing at my wife.

Lina stepped forward, her smile widening. "So... you have to promise you'll be on time. None of this sneaking in late business. Tomorrow night, okay? Eight o'clock sharp.

"It's going to be fun," she added, sing-song again, almost teasing, before glancing between us. "We'll be waiting."

Her husband chuckled. "Don't let her down--she gets scary when people are late."

"Haha, don't worry," I said with a small laugh. "We'll be on time."

"Good," Lina grinned, giving my wife a quick wink before stepping back.

"See you tomorrow," her husband added, giving a casual wave.

We exchanged goodbyes, then turned toward our place. Dinner tomorrow, huh. I hope it'll be fun.

28. Dinner

Next Day

"Are you ready?" I called out from the hallway.

"Almost," she answered.

"God, you take too long," I muttered with a half-smile, dropping down onto the couch and scrolling through my phone.

A few minutes later, the sound of her heels clicked across the floor. I glanced up -- and my mouth just... stayed open.

She stood there in a long-slit dress. The dress fitting her body so perfectly, outlining every curve. Her left leg was visible through the opening, drawing my eye all the way to the inner side of her thigh, the slit stopping just short of where her thigh met her waist.

She gave a small, nervous spin to show me how it looked.

*Twitch*

Fuck, she looked so damn hot in that dress.

I could feel my cock twitch under the pants, slowly getting harder. I was the one who bought this dress for her, so I guess I can take a little credit for how stunning she looked in it.

But right on the heels of that arousal came a sting in my stomach. This wasn't a date. We weren't going out somewhere private. We were going to sit in someone else's dining room, surrounded by other people. People who would see her like this. People who would look. The thought made my chest flutter with little nervousness.

She stood there, a hint of nervousness in her expression, waiting for me to say something.

"I--I thought you didn't like that dress," I said, forcing a normal tone, though my voice caught halfway through. She'd told me before it was too revealing, too much for her taste. And yet here she was, looking like... this.

I couldn't tell if the unease in my gut was because she looked so damn hot... or because other people would notice too, maybe even have some dirty thou--

N-No, what the hell am I thinking? She looks good. Remember what Lina said. Yes. If she feels comfortable enough to wear this, I shouldn't have a problem with it. She's allowed to feel good about her body. I don't want to ruin the confidence it took for her to try on this dress. I don't want to be that asshole.

She hesitated, her voice low. "I-I thought... I'm sorry. I'll just go and change." She turned toward the bedroom.

I shot up from the couch. "Wait--you look really... gorgeous, I swear. You don't have to change."

Her eyes lifted slightly, a shy smile spreading at her lips. "R-really?"

"On God," I said, walking toward her. "I was just little caught off guard since you said before you didn't really like this one, that's all."

She looked down, still smiling faintly. "Y-yeah, you're right. I jus--"

"I mean," I cut in gently, "our tastes can change over time, and that's okay." I leaned in, slowly pulling her closer to me. "Seeing you like this... honestly makes me want to cancel going there for dinner and just have you as my dinner instead."

She pulled away playfully, her cheeks flushed. "Come on, we'll be late."

As she walked toward the door, I couldn't help rubbing my hand over the bulge in my pants, my eyes locked on that perfectly shaped ass. She looked spicy enough to burn.

She paused, turned back with a teasing smile. "Let's not be too late for dinner... or you might miss out on the special one too." She added a playful wink.

"You naughty girl," I said, grinning as I followed her out.

*Knock* *Knock*

"Welcome!" Lina's husband boomed, loud enough to make my eardrum throb.

Lina hugged my wife, and I followed her husband inside. He led us to the couch, while Lina was throwing tons of compliments over my wife--then shot me a sly thumbs-up along with a knowing expression. Probably her way of saying good job for letting her wear what she wanted.

We all started chatting, laughter bouncing around the room, when a sudden knock came at the door. Lina quickly stood up, and I turned to her husband with a confused look.

"Was someone else coming too?" I asked.

He smiled and gave me a solid pat on the back, enough to make me shift in my seat "Of course."

I rubbed the spot, half from the sting. "Oh? Who is it?"

"It's the young guy who lives right beside you" he said casually. "You probably already know him, don't you?"

Young guy? The thought flickered in my head. Is it that cocky dude?

A strange unease began bubbling in my stomach.

The door opened, and he walked in with a polite smile which felt very forced. My eyes followed his, and his eyes were unnescessarily... longer on my wife. He gave her a small smile, like he was impres--

"So," Lina clapped her hands, loud enough to stop my thoughts from spiraling. "I'm sure there's no need for introductions since we all know each other, right? This is our first neighborhood get-together, and I hope it's just the start of many more. This boring place could use a little fun, don't you think?"

She grinned, drawing out her words. "Sooo... let's start the partyyy!"

Lina strolled over to the speaker and hit play, filling the room with music. She grabbed my wife's hand, pulling her toward the open space, while her husband grabbed mine and practically dragged me to join in.

Lina's husband had a body like a damn wardrobe. Broad shoulders, thick chest -- the kind of build that could block out the sun if he stood in front of you. And tonight, unfortunately, he was my personal eclipse.

The music started thumping through the speakers. Lina pulled my wife toward the open space in the middle of the living room, laughing as they moved. I instinctively took a step forward, wanting to see her... but suddenly, Lina's husband was right there in front of me, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth.

"Come on, man, dance with me!" he said, shuffling me back like I was a kid being told where to stand for a photo.

I tried leaning left-- nothing but his back. Leaning right-- the guy shifted too, blocking me again like we were playing some kind of weird defense drill. He shifted when I shifted, either by accident or on purpose, I couldn't tell.

Inside, I started cursing him. Damn it, move your fridge-sized body out of the way.

For a second, I gave up and tried to just nod along to the music, pretending I was fine with it. But then... there it was. A gap.

Then, through a small gap, I caught a quick glimpse. My wife -- her body moving with the music. But there was something else... a hand. On her waist.

My stomach churned.

I couldn't see who it belonged to -- maybe it was Lina's, since she pulled her to dance together? Yeah... probably Lina. Still, something didn't sit right... the way her back arched slightly into the touch... it made my pulse race.

I leaned a little more to the side, just enough for another peek. The hand slid from her waist to the smooth curve of her stomach, fingers spread, holding her in place as she moved. Her stomach tensed visibly, almost like a shiver went through her.

And in that instant, an old memory flashed in my mind -- that time when Ray had danced with her, right in front of me. That dance which made me feel pathetic and helpless all at the same time.

No... I swallowed hard, trying to push the thought away.

I tried to step closer, but the human wall in front of me chuckled and clapped to the beat, forcing me back. Another gap opened -- this time I saw her bending forward slightly, laughing, one leg sliding to the side, and a hand trailing dangerously over inside of her thigh. My chest tightened again.

My breathing grew faster. I told myself it had to be Lina. But then... I scanned the room quickly. He was nowhere to be seen. My gaze darted back to her.

No. He wouldn't...

The thought hit hard at the back of my skull. Was he over there? Dancing with her? Touching her like that? My breathing was all over the place. That buried feeling I'd tried to keep locked away for so long... was clawing its way back to the surface.

She should be dancing with me. I'm her husband.

But that guy... he's shameless enough. He'd probably try it. The more I thought about it, the more my hands curled into fists at my sides.

I tried to get around the wall[Lina's husband] in front of me, but he laughed again and shoved me back into place, still blocking my view. My eyes darted, desperate for another glimpse.

When I finally caught one, it was worse -- his hand was still there on her stomach.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

No... why is my heart beating so fast? My chest felt tight, my skin hot. It's... just like that day.

Another flash of his hands on her.

No. Stop it.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it only made my heartbeat more obvious. My eyes locked on her again through the crowd, my mind racing.

Is she enjoying it? Dancing with him?

The music cut off mid-beat, and we all turned to look at Lina. She stood near the speaker with a mischievous smile.

Lina clapped her hands with the kind of energy that didn't give anyone a chance to say no. "Okay! Before we get back to the music, let's play something fun."

Her husband groaned good-naturedly. "Oh boy... here we go."

"It's easy," she explained, picking up a balloon from the table. "Two people, one balloon, no hands. Hold it between you and carry it across the room. First to finish without dropping it wins." She flashed a playful smile. "But... we're picking partners randomly."

I stepped closer to my wife. "I'll--"

"Nope!" Lina said quickly, shaking her head. "No choosing. We'll draw numbers."

She passed out slips, each marked from one to five. I unfolded mine -- 1. My wife peeked at hers and kept it close to her chest.

Once everyone had a slip, Lina beamed. "Alright, each of you has a number. I'm going to call out two numbers at a time, and whoever they belong to will be paired up." She glanced around with a mischievous grin. "Of course, I don't want two men ending up together, so I already know which numbers belong to ladies and which to men. But I don't know exactly which person has which number -- that part will be random!"

My stomach clenched anxiously as she started reading the numbers aloud. "First pair... four and five."

Lina's husband laughed, lifting his slip. "Five!"

Lina waited, tilting her head slightly as my wife did not respond for number four. A hint of recognition flashed across her face. "Ah... must be me," she murmured, smiling. She held out her arms, and when my wife didn't claim four, it became clear.

"Perfect!" Lina said brightly. She and her husband stepped forward and hugged, the balloon forgotten for a moment as the first pair formed.

Lina's eyes scanned the rest of us. "Next couple is..." She dragged it out, drawing the tension like a string being pulled. "Two... and..." she turned her head toward me for the briefest second, lips curling, "... threeee."

N-No. My wife's hand opened to reveal the number 2 and he raised his with a smile appearing on his face.

"That makes number one..." Lina tapped her finger against my slip, "... the referee."

"What? No, wait," I blurted before I could stop myself. "Why can't I--"

"It's random," Lina said smoothly, cutting me off. "Pure luck. Don't be such a sore sport."

I clenched my jaw. "But--"

"Hey, you get the best seat in the house," Lina teased. "Just watch and cheer. Besides, it's harmless."

I forced a stiff smile and took a deep breath. It's just a game. D-Don't be so insecure.

I sat back in the chair at the far end of the room, the so-called finish line. Five balloons were laid out at the starting point, and the rules were simple: carry them to me, one by one, squeezed between your bodies without using your hands. First couple to get all five here wins.

Lina and her husband were the first to set up. She slipped the balloon between her head and his chest, him towering over her.

But I wasn't watching them.

My eyes were locked on my wife... and him.

They were standing there at the start, the balloon pressed awkwardly between them. I saw her dress shift slightly as she adjusted it. She looked good tonight... too good. Something in me wound tighter as they waited for the signal.

"Go!" Lina called.

Almost instantly, the balloon slipped. My wife's hands twitched like she wanted to grab it, but before she could, his hand was already there -- one flat against her lower back, the other sliding around her side. He pulled her in, pressing the balloon tight between their chests.

My stomach was twisting painfully.

They began to move. Slow steps, side by side, both of their heads leaning in toward each other. His face vanished from my view, hidden behind the angle of their heads, too close to her neck. She shifted slightly, tilting her head to the side... and for a split second, something flickered across her face.

Something in me jolted.

No. Stop ovethinking. It's not what it looks like.

She would never allow it.

My eyes were fixed on her face, but something moved at the corner of my vision, lower. I glanced down and caught it. His hand... it had slid lower, now resting on the top curve of her hips. Just sitting there.

Then, suddenly, his fingers flexed, giving a small squeeze.

A hot, sharp twitch shot through my chest, and somewhere else as well, like something ugly and filthy had been wired straight to my heart.

She felt it too. I knew she did, because she turned her head toward me in a quick, sharp glance. My breath froze. And then, like some coward, I turned my face away, pretending to check on Lina and her husband.

W-What the fuck? Why did I turn my head?

That bastard probably saw this as a chance and she was probably caught off guard. I looked back. They were closer now, moving in sync, their bodies pressed flush. Their steps matched perfectly, each shift of their hips brushing that balloon, keeping it from falling. Every breath they took seemed to pull them tighter together.

They reached me, bending at the same time to drop the balloon into the basket. It landed with a dull thud that felt like it landed right in my chest.

Something about the entire situation felt very humiliating.

Lina stepped forward, placing her balloon into the basket with a grin. "Mmm... look at those two," she said, eyes flicking toward my wife and him. "So perfectly in rhythm... don't you think?"

"Y-Yeah," I muttered, my voice tight. "They... they're doing great."

She gave me a quick, knowing smile. "Don't worry. Just relax. It's just a game." Then she turned away, hurrying off to start her second round, leaving me sitting there with my pulse hammering in my ears.

The balloon race ended with them crossing the line first. They handed me the final balloon and I felt the humiliation burn hotter than the applause. Lina followed close behind with her husband, handing theirs over with a smirk.

"Alright," Lina clapped, cutting the tension with a grin, "time for the next game -- blindfold chase."

She explained the rules. Whoever didn't get picked in the pairings would be blindfolded and have to catch the others. A small, relieved breath slipped out. At least this wouldn't have me watching her pressed against him again.

They tied a scarf around my head. I couldn't see clearly -- just the faintest hint of shadows through the thin fabric, enough to make out blurred shapes if the light hit right.

"Go!" Lina shouted.

Feet scattered in all directions, quick and light. I took a slow step forward, hands out. Laughter circled me. Someone clapped from the far corner, someone else tapped my shoulder and ran away. They were toying with me. For a few minutes, it was nothing but the sound of their teasing, my hands swiping at empty air.

Then... another sound. Different. Wet. A low, rhythmic slurp that made my brow raise. The noises were faint at first, just a soft, wet rhythm. I tilted my head, listening. It wasn't the playful shuffling I'd been chasing before. This... had weight to it.

I slowly began moving in that direction, my hands feeling along the wall until my fingers brushed against a doorway.

The sound stopped, like they'd heard me. A small smile pulled at my lips. Got you. I was sure someone was hiding there.

I stepped into the room, the dim light bleeding faintly through the scarf. At first, it was all a haze -- just shifting shadows in the blur. I squinted, trying to sharpen the outlines, slowly scanning across the space. The vague shapes started to separate... a taller, upright form near the bed caught my focus. My eyes started tracing downward until the shadow of a figure kneeling at his waist, right infront of him began to emerge. This position... was unmistakable.

I could feel the heartbeat in my ears.

No. They cant possib--

The standing shadow moved its hips forward. The wet, obscene sound returned -- sharper now, more defined. My breath caught as the blur seemed to show something long pushing in and out of the kneeling figure's mouth. Hands gripped her head, holding her steady, then driving her down in quick, forceful thrusts. Holy fuck... he's in her mouth.

Without realizing, I leaned forward. Just a fraction. Just enough to make the shadow sharpen slightly, giving me more. My cock twitched at the clearer view.

It's unmistakably them. Lina and her husband.

I stayed still otherwise, eyes squinting behind the fabric, trying to drink in every blurred detail. The kneeling shadow's head bobbed, the standing figure's hips moved, and every few thrusts I caught, lina's head push back each time he slammed, like a faint bounce from the force of him hitting deep.

I could feel her trying to control her soft whimpers as much as possible. But still. Can't believe she is really taking all those demonic thrusts so deeply, no break, no mercy.

My cock grew tight under my pants.

How is Lina even handling this? My mind was racing. He's shoving himself so deep she must be choking. She's not even moving -- just letting him fuck her mouth like that.

I coughed, on purpose -- a deliberate ahem, meant to make them stop.

They did. Just for a few seconds. I saw their shapes freeze, lina pulling her head back and the cock slowly slid out of her mouth. I thought that was it.

But then, almost instantly, her husband grabbed her head and slammed his hips forward again, even harder. My breath hitched. This wasn't careful anymore. He wasn't trying to hide it. He was doing it intentionally, he was showing me. He started fucking her mouth with an authority. He was trying to show how much control he had over his wife. But why is he getting more brutal in my presence? Don't tell me... Is he probably feeling more excited? Perhaps he is liking the fact someone else is a blindfold away from discovering his dirty fun.

Her body rocked backward with each thrust, forced to take his full weight. I could see the shadow of his hips snapping forward, driving himself down her throat until her head tilted back, grabbing his hips from falling. Jesus Christ... he's going all over her face.

The slurps were wetter now, filthier, echoing faintly in the room. They're really doing this while we're in the middle of a fucking game? How horny can you be?

I shifted back half a step, thinking maybe I shouldn't interrupt. My eyes were still locked on the blurred outline, trying to make out more through the scarf.

I wanted to look away. But I couldn't.

The thrusts grew shorter but sharper, like he was emptying himself against her lips. Her shadow seemed to shake as he pushed deep one last time, holding her still. A faint whimper broke the thick silence, followed by a gasp for air.

He dropped onto the bed behind him, legs spread, breathing heavy.

Lina sat still for a minute. Probably trying to get her mind back after that mouth fuck. She stood slowly, lowering her head and walked toward the doorway carefully and quietly, passing so close to me I caught a whiff of her perfume. My stomach churned instantly. It was sweet... familiar.

I stayed still, letting her pass. She was... Lina. Right?

29. That was... my wife

He was lying there on the bed, chest heaving as if he had just climbed a mountain. And the one who deserved to rest like that had just walked out of the room.

What I had just witnessed left me speechless. I turned, forcing my gaze elsewhere. I couldn't, I wouldn't catch him like that--not like this.

I edged out of the room, scarf still blindfolding my eyes, every sound around me sharper than ever.

Footsteps shuffled. Faint giggles, the tap of hands on the floor. Teases, whispers, the faint brush of someone passing too close. For five minutes that felt like hours, I crept through the space, trying, failing, to find anyone. Every noise, a footstep, a rustle, a soft squeak, tested my patience. Every time I reached a corner, silence. Every time I thought I had a shadow in sight, it dissolved into nothing.

Finally, my patience snapped. I raised a hand. "I give up," I muttered, voice hoarse, more for myself than anyone else.

Lina's laugh floated to me, light, teasing. "Sure," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. "I was getting hungry anyway. Let's eat."

Eat, after just being fed? I chuckled silently, sarcasm cutting through the tension inside me. My eyes followed Lina and her husband as they moved, laughed, and sat at the table like nothing had happened. I still couldn't believe it. He had fucked Lina's mouth like some animal, pounding her without mercy. Her throat must be raw, sore, probably burning.

I sighed. Why should I even care how Lina must be feeling now? It's none of my business.

And just like that, the obscene, unbearable tension, eased, folded into the everyday. We all gathered around the table, plates in front of us, forks clinking, casual chatter filling the space.

We sat around the table, the women on one side, the men on the other. My wife was next to Lina, both facing us across the narrow stretch of wood. On our side it was me in the middle, Lina's husband on one end, and Ray on the other. It almost felt like teams lined up against each other, the two wives together, the three of us men opposite them. I ate mechanically, every bite a battle to keep my mind from wandering back to the room I had left.

Dinner carried on, Lina doing most of the talking, her voice filling every gap. I barely listened, still stuck on what I had witnessed.

Then she turned her eyes toward my wife. "Hmm... are you okay? You're so quiet. And you're not eating much."

My wife gave a half smile and lowered her fork. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a little throat pain, that's all."

I almost choked. For a second, the absurdity of it hit me so hard I wanted to laugh out loud. Really? A sore throat? She? I bit down on my tongue and forced a straight face, but inside, irony burned like acid.

Was this some kind of sick joke? Somebody else just got their throat used like a dumping ground, pounded until I thought she might gag her lungs out. And she was eating fine, lively, not missing a beat at the table. Yet here was my wife, picking at her plate, claiming her throat hurt.

I leaned back slightly, letting the irony wash over me, laughing inside my own head. What a joke. Life really knew how to play with me. The one who should be sore was talking more than anyone else, and the one who was struggling was my sweet and lovely wife.

I nodded, slightly concerned, even reached for her hand on the table, but my thoughts mocked me viciously. She assured me it was just from the cold.

After a few minutes, Lina's husband started rambling again, going on with his useless stories while Lina cheered him on, laughing at every word like it was gold. I barely listened, my eyes on the food in front of me, when I suddenly felt something brush against my toe. Probably just a mistake, I thought at first. But then it happened again--this time slower, deliberate. A soft, crawling movement, a leg sliding over my foot. Careful and sensually.

It was my right foot. Lina was seated on my left. That left no doubt. It was my wife.

I glanced at her. Her head was bowed slightly, eyes down at her plate as if she hadn't moved at all. But her leg kept sliding, inch by inch, teasing, tracing my foot in a way that was anything but innocent. Somebody's feeling naughty, I thought, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth.

I shifted in my chair, pushing my leg further out, making it easier for her. Testing her. Seeing what she would do. She didn't hesitate. Her leg followed, brushing higher, crossing over mine until I could feel the warmth pressing up, slow, playful, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

I matched her act, pretending clueless, stabbing at my food like nothing was happening under the table. But my pulse betrayed me, thumping harder with every stroke. Then her leg finally landed right where she wanted--over my cock.

Fuck.

The word echoed in my head as I froze for a moment, my cock already stiffening, twitching under the thin press of her foot. She stayed there, bold, testing me, as I chewed slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. A low chuckle slipped inside me, amused, surprised, almost proud of her daring move.

Her toes pressed again, harder this time, right against my cock. I could feel myself stiffening, straining, my cock swelling under her teasing pressure. Every bite I took, I felt her foot pushing, pressing, then easing off, a rhythm that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

Then her foot shifted. Her toes slid higher, little careful, and then her toes turned into a scissor, like pinching fingers, brushing over my cock. She paused there, as if testing, like she was checking the shape through the fabric. My breath caught, heat rushing down my cock.

She didn't grab it, not fully. Just a slow trace, dragging along my length, like she wanted to feel the outline. My cock twitched hard against her touch, begging for more.

I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the pressure. A jolt ran through me, obvious enough that anyone watching would've seen it.

Her foot went quiet, hesitation slipping in.

I looked up at her, quiet, no words. Our eyes met across the table. She gave me a small, awkward smile, lips twitching like she was caught doing something she shouldn't.

And then, just like that, she pulled her leg back. Gone. As if nothing had happened at all.

I kept eating like nothing had changed, but my cock was still rock hard. I made sure to let her see it in my eyes--that I'd felt everything, and that I appreciated her boldness more than she could imagine.

She glanced down quickly, nervous, slightly guilty, maybe embarrassed, like she hadn't expected to end up doing what she just did. I brushed it off. To me, it was simple. She wanted to tease me. And she did.

Dinner was done, plates cleared, and I thought finally--it was time to go. My head was already racing ahead, picturing the night I was supposed to have. The promised dinner I really wanted. The one waiting for me at home, behind closed doors. My cock was pulsing after all that teasing under the table, aching to finally be inside her. I was so fucking horny I could barely sit still.

But no. The night didn't end there.

Just as I was about to suggest we head home, Lina's husband stood up with a wide grin and went rummaging through his cabinet. He came back with bottles in his hands--wine, real branded stuff, the kind you don't see every day. I knew I should've said no, but I couldn't. Not to that. My throat burned with the memory of her foot, my cock still straining, and all I could think was maybe a drink or two would calm me down before I finally had her.

We sat, the men together, the wives slipping into a separate room. Glasses filled, one after another. We laughed, we toasted, we drank. I couldn't tell when one glass ended and the next began. At some point, the room started spinning, voices blurring into noise.

I don't even remember closing my eyes. Just the weight of the wine dragging me somewhere far away.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick

After what felt like an eternity. My eyes cracked open, heavy as stone. Everything was blurred, doubled, spinning out of control. My stomach twisted hard, sharp pain gnawing inside me as if it wanted to tear itself out. Groaning, I pushed myself off the couch, stumbling forward on weak legs. My stomach was hurting from all that drink and food. I quickly made my way to the toilet.

My body was spinning like I was caught in a storm. Two doors. No, four. My vision was splitting everything into doubles. I rubbed my eyes, but it didn't help. The toilet felt different. Someone was already there, standing completely quiet in the corner. I squinted hard, trying to place a face, but all I saw were shapes, outlines.

"Is this the toilet?" I muttered, voice slurred, thick on my tongue.

"This is not the toilet. Let me help you," a voice answered, steadily.

"Thank you... thank you so much," I mumbled, leaning into whoever it was.

They guided me to the toilet right next to this room. I slumped against the wall, dropped onto the toilet seat with a thud, both hands clutching my head. My skull was pounding, my stomach twisting worse with every second.

I sat there, half-asleep, until something caught my eye. To my right, the wall wasn't perfect. Small cracks. Tiny holes, just enough to peek through. I poked my finger and it went through. My drunken brain, sluggish and bored, told me to poke my eye now. So I leaned forward, one eye pressed close.

At first it was all a mess--blurry, shapes blending into each other, like shadows swimming in the dark. My head spun, stomach twisting, but then the picture through that crack started to sharpen. Not fully, little hazy--but enough to catch something.

I frowned, squinting. What the hell was that? Hair... but only few strands. I focused harder, scanning every bit of the small view I had.

One leg... was raised and... other leg was trembling. And right beneath it--something thick, dark, pressing between folds of flesh.

My heart kicked against my ribs. My drunken brain struggled, slow to put the pieces together. For a second it didn't make sense. Just skin and movement. A strange angle. A blur of wetness.

Then it hit me. That was... pus-- And the thick, stiff thing rubbing along it... fuck, that was a cock.

I swallowed hard, throat dry. Even through the haze I knew the shape, the sheer size. Lina's husband. Had to be.

I turned my head away fast, shame slicing through the fog. "No... I shouldn't be seeing this," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut.

But my body betrayed me. The pull was too strong. I leaned back, my eye finding the crack again.

And there it was--narrow view, nothing else. Her pussy spread open by his fat cockhead grinding against her cunt, spreading her wetness everywhere before pushing harder. Toes curling in air, as he forced the tip in.

"Fuck..." I whispered, heat rushing through me, cock stiffening in my pants.

The world was spinning around me, but that small opening... it gave me just enough to see. Not their faces. Not their bodies. Only the wet, obscene joining of cock and cunt.

Her pussy was spread wide, glistening, swallowing down that thick cock again and again. Every thrust shoved more of him inside, his fat cock gliding in and out with a dirty sound that made my head pound harder.

The wall cut off everything else. I couldn't see her expression, couldn't even catch a glimpse of her tits or the way he must've been holding her. All I saw was her cunt--pinkish, raw, stretched--and his cock slamming into it without mercy. His balls smacked against her with every violent stroke, sticky threads of wetness stretched and broke apart.

It was maddening, that narrow view. I wanted to look away, but my eyes stayed locked on that one spot, hypnotized. I wanted to see more, the expression she must be making, taking that cock. My cock twitched in my pants, pressing painfully, as if it wanted to be right there where his was, splitting her open.

Her pussy seemed so tight, struggling to not get torn apart, juices spilling down her thighs, covering his shaft until every thrust left a wet sheen under the light. She was dripping, soaked, taking him over and over while I sat there, drunk, breathless, unable to look anywhere else.

The sounds echoed louder than the sight. Wet smacks. His low growls. Her muffled cries--faint, broken, like she was choking on the air with every thrust. My stomach twisted, heat flooding through me.

Fuck. Lina. Taking it like that? My head spun harder, but I couldn't tear myself away.

At first, it was muffled, broken by the fog in my head. But then the sound came sharp.

A cry. High, sweet, but cracked with strain. Then another. Louder. Moans turning into little sobs, bouncing off the walls.

I pressed closer to the crack, and my vision sharpened enough to see him drop her leg. Her foot hit the floor with a smack, and the next second-- smack

His hand slammed against her ass.

She screamed out, body trembling. My heart thudded.

"Fuck..." I breathed, cock twitching painfully.

Her ass jiggled with each slap, round and perfect, reddening with every strike. His hips pounded forward, each thrust making her flesh ripple.

I couldn't help it. The drunken haze, the pounding lust--I fumbled at my zipper, cock springing free, stiff and aching. My hand wrapped around it without thinking. I needed relief, even just a rub.

The view was narrow, but that made it filthier. Just her cunt taking him, his cock slick and merciless, her ass bouncing back against him like a slut. Every moan she let out was sharp, echoing right through the wall into me.

Then he grabbed her hair. I saw the motion, her head pulled back, arching her spine. That's when her tits came into view, bouncing hard as he fucked her deeper.

My breath hitched, hand moving faster over my cock. My eyes glued to every little detail--the redness of her ass, the way her tits jiggled with every thrust, his fat cock splitting her open like she was nothing.

"Lina..." I muttered under my breath, my voice hoarse. "Even though you always act so cute, bubbly... deep inside you're a proper whore, aren't you? You love it rough."

I bit down on my lip, jerking faster. Her cries filled the room, no shame, no holding back. He smacked her ass again, harder, and she moaned like she wanted it.

"Fuck... yeah... the way he's pounding you," I whispered, precum slicking my hand. "You're taking it all like a nice little slut."

Her ass clapped against him, round cheeks red and glowing, and I stroked faster, drunk and shameless. My cock was leaking, stiff as steel, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Her cries didn't stop. If anything, they got filthier.

He slammed into her again, rough, spanking her ass loud. Her cry bounced off the walls, louder, wetter. Her leg shook, her body shivered. She was cumming already.

"F-fuckkk--I'm...!" she screamed, her thighs shaking against him. Her pussy clenched, leaking, as he kept hammering mercilessly.

He didn't stop there. He kept going. Her moans grew ragged, desperate, body shaking hard.

"Ohhh godddd--ahhhh... fuckkk... yesss... I... am!"

Her knees buckled, legs trembling violently as another orgasm ripped through her, pussy dripping down his shaft. Her voice cracked, screaming, begging him not to stop.

My cock twitched in my hand. My chest was tight. My head spun harder, but my ears caught everything. I couldn't ignore it anymore. That voice... it sounded so much like hers. Too much.

"No..." I whispered to myself, pumping my cock faster. "No way... that's not her. It can't be."

But the pounding against the wall didn't lie. Her gasps, her begging--it clawed at my mind.

My cock jerked violently, as if it knew the truth. That wasn't lina's voice--it was hers. My wife.

"No... you're drunk," I hissed to myself. "You're imagining it. It's Lina. It has to be Lina."

But then he stopped, pulled his dick out and shoved her down. My heart pounded in my throat as she went on her knees. Through the crack, I saw her mouth opened wide, tongue hanging out, waiting. His cock slapped wet across her cheek, then her lips, smearing spit over them. She gasped, breathless, before taking him in.

"Ughhh..." she moaned, muffled as the head stretched her lips.

The sound stabbed through my chest. I froze, cock throbbing in my fist. No... way...

Her moan came broken around the cock, gagging between thrusts.

"Mhhhhhggghhh--mmmhhh!"

The words vibrated through the wall and into me.

She choked, sputtering, and then it hit. Her body started shaking, shudder rolled through her as she came on her knees, moaning loud around the cock.

"Uggghhhmmm--mhhhh--ohhhh fuckkkk!"

My hand worked faster, precum slicking my shaft. My eyes were glued. My wife's voice--moaning in orgasm--while her throat was stuffed full of another man's cock.

Her lips back down his shaft, gagging loud, slurping. Her tits bounced as she bobbed, saliva pouring.

"Glkkk-glkkk--ahhhhh-mhhhhh--fuckkkk"

My head spun. "Holy fuck..." I muttered, stroking furiously, my own orgasm clawing up.

My heart pounded so hard it hurt. It was her. It had to be.

My hand stroked harder, precum flying as he whispered hoarsely, "I thought your throat hurt... after that brutal fuck earlier today... right infront of your hus-"

The words didn't come through. He was saying something to her and she sucked him like she'd been starved, desperate, taking every inch like it was natural.

"Holy shittt..." I muttered, face hot, cock throbbing in my grip. My heart thundered so loud it hurt. Those lips... it was clear. Too clear. My wife.

And still, I couldn't stop. My hand blurred on my cock as he groaned. His cock burst, cum gushing into her mouth. I watched, stunned, as it spilled out over her lips before she closed her mouth and gulped it down, her throat working as she swallowed every drop.

"Fuck... fuck..." My voice broke, body convulsing. My cock exploded in my hand, hot strings of cum splattering my shirt, my thighs, my fist. My forehead slammed against the wall, vision swimming as I emptied everything.

When it was done, I collapsed onto the toilet seat, chest heaving, my head spinning like it was going to split open. My cock still twitched, sticky in my hand. My heart wouldn't slow, trembling at what I just saw.

I looked again, she was licking her lips, wiping her chin.

Her voice still echoed in my ears. Her mouth, sucking, swallowing. My wife's.

"No... it wasn't her. It can't be. I'm drunk. Just drunk."

I shoved my cock back into my pants with shaking hands, tried to stand, but my legs gave out. My skull felt like it was splitting.

Then--blackness. I dropped, the world spinning, sinking somewhere into the dark.

30. Ray's advice

My head hurt like someone had lodged a hammer inside my skull and was swinging at every beat of my heart. A dull, splitting ache spread from behind my eyes down the sides of my face, pulling me into a groan as consciousness clawed its way back.

Light.

A rectangle shaped panel light above me. I blinked hard, once, twice, but the brightness only sharpened the pounding in my temples. My vision swam. I pressed my palm against my forehead, dragging it slowly down to my eyes, trying to steady myself.

"Ugh... what the hell..." My own voice rasped dry in my throat.

I shifted, felt the stiff fabric of a sheet beneath me, and realized I was lying on a bed. Not mine. Too hard. Too tucked-in. The smell wasn't familiar either--clean, slightly clinical.

I forced myself upright, though the movement sent a wave of nausea rolling through me. My stomach twisted. I gritted my teeth, sitting on the edge of the bed, head heavy between my hands.

Only then did I notice her.

My wife.

She was slumped forward in a chair, arms folded on the mattress right beside me. Her cheek rested on her hands, lips slightly parted as soft breaths slipped out in rhythm. She'd fallen asleep waiting like that, half-sitting, half-collapsed.

I blinked down at her, the ache in my head momentarily forgotten.

Why... why is she here like this? Why didn't she just lie down? What's going on?

Confusion circled in my chest. My eyes dragged away from her and scanned the room.

It was small. Bare. A desk in the corner, a set of drawers near the bed I was on, and white walls broken by a few hanging frames. It looked less like a bedroom and more like... an office that someone had fitted with a cot.

My hand rubbed at my head again, trying to will the fragments in my head into place. Nothing came. I had no memory of how I ended up here.

And then my eyes stopped at something on the wall. A framed photograph.

The person inside the frame felt kinda familiar. I squinted my eyes, trying to focus on that face. The fog in my mind thinned in an instant. My eyes widened, body stiffening as if the pain had been knocked out of me.

Ray.

He was in the picture, smiling, a crisp suit hanging on his frame, one arm raised, some kind of certificate clutched proudly in his hand. A degree, official and polished. The text was sharp, his name sprawled clearly under the seal.

Ray.

Why is his picture here? I blinked hard, trying to push through the fog in my skull. Where even am I? Why... why would there be a framed photo of him hanging here?

Before I could even start to piece it together, a sound pulled my attention.

The creak of a door.

"Ah," a smooth voice drifted in, steady, familiar, "you're awake."

My eyes drifted toward the voice by the door, still hazy from the pounding in my head. He came closer, pulled out a chair, and sat down. One leg crossed over the other.

I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision. The shape of his face sharpened, the blur fading bit by bit.

It was Ray.

I just stared, blinking, trying to gather words.

"I... I don't..." My voice cracked. "Ray, what... why are you...?"

He raised a hand lightly, as if to calm me. "I know," he said, his tone polite, "you must be very confused. So let me answer your unanswered questions."

My throat worked. Confusion didn't even cover it.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes sharp but his smile never leaving. "According to what I've been told, you were found unconscious in your neighbor's bathroom. Yeah--Lina, was it? Her husband and that young neighbor from beside you carried you here."

I felt my heart stumble.

"U... Unconscious?" I stammered, the word foreign on my tongue.

Ray tilted his head. "That's right. Apparently you guys had a blast last night. You got too drunk and just fell in the bathroom, smacked your head. You should've been more careful."

"Last night...?" A blast? Too drunk? Fell? The words rattled around in my skull but refused to line up.

I reached to rub the sore spot on my head, wincing as the sting flared up again. My eyes darted toward the window. Morning light was already spilling in.

"Yes. Last night." Ray's eyes narrowed slightly, watching me with a focus.

I tried to remember, but it was like pulling on threads that slipped right through my fingers. Nothing. Just fragments--blur, sound, then black. My head throbbed harder with every effort.

"I hit my head...?" My voice trembled, uncertain.

"You did," Ray replied.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the memory back, but there was nothing. Just that thick, empty blankness that mocked me with its silence.

"I... I can't remember anything," I admitted, my voice little annoyed.

Ray leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. "Guess you shouldn't drink more than you can handle."

Before I could press him further, another voice cut through--softer, trembling.

"You're awake..."

I turned my head, startled, and saw her. My wife. Her eyes glistened, her lashes wet. She leaned forward, her arms slipping around me tightly in a desperate hug.

"You're awake... thank God..."

I felt her warmth, her grip almost crushing, her breath shaky against my shoulder. For a moment, despite the pounding in my head, I let myself sink into that care, that special concern.

"Hey, hey... relax," I whispered, trying to steady her with my hand against her back. "I'm okay. Really. I'm okay."

Ray's voice slid in back.

"I don't think you should hug him that tight," Ray said. "Might make him unconscious again."

My wife gasped softly and pulled back instantly, her hands trembling as she wiped the tears quickly from her cheeks.

I looked between the two of them, unsettled, then back at her. My voice was low, searching. "So... I was found unconscious?"

She nodded quickly, lips pressed tight before words spilled out. "Yeah... yeah. I got so scared when Lina suddenly woke me up saying you were unconscious in the bathroom." Her fingers curled into a fist in her lap, knuckles white.

"I-I was so scared," she whispered, her voice breaking.

My hand moved on its own, brushing away the tears stuck to her lashes. Her skin was warm, and the way she leaned into my palm made guilt swell inside me. I had put her through so much worry. She must have been terrified while I lay unconscious, completely unaware.

How lucky I was, to have someone who cherished me this deeply. My chest ached with a surge of love for her.

"So," Ray's voice cut through, little curious, "you really can't remember anything at all?"

I turned my head toward him, blinking back into focus. "I... I don't know," I replied, my voice low. "All I can remember is... we played some games, then dinner, and... Lina's husband brought out some bottles, and we started drinking."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push further into the haze. A sudden sting lanced through my skull. My breath caught. "Ugh... I don't know... I can't remember anything past that."

Ray gave a sympathetic hum, then reached into his desk. He slid a slip of paper across to me. "Here. Some prescribed medicines. Take it easy for the next few days."

I took the note, staring at his neat handwriting, but my mind was elsewhere. Once again I couldn't shake it -- how different he seemed. So polite, so normal, just like the very first time I had interacted with him.

Without thinking, the question slipped from my lips. "I thought you worked in a medical store?"

Ray chuckled, a sharp little laugh that filled the room. "Haha, well, yeah, you're right about that. But I'm also a doctor," he added, winking with a casual ease. "Honestly, I didn't expect our next interaction would be like this."

I let out a shaky chuckle of my own. "Y-yeah..."

Ray leaned back in his chair, then shifted his eyes toward my wife. "Would you mind waiting outside for a bit? I want to discuss something with your husband."

She blinked, hesitant, glancing at me as though unsure. I gave her a soft nod, reassuring, and after a moment she rose quietly and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Ray's smile stayed gentle, but his eyes sharpened as he lifted a hand.

"Pay more attention..." His voice dropped slightly, firm, eyes narrowing.

My chest tightened. "P-Pay attention to... what?"

"... to your surroundings." The sudden seriousness in his gaze made my heart skip.

"S-Surroundings?" I echoed, throat dry.

In an instant his expression brightened again, warm and harmless. "You don't want to take another fall, right? That would be troublesome." He chuckled, as if nothing odd had passed between us.

I forced a small laugh, but unease tugged at me.

Ray leaned closer, his voice lowering again. "Don't ignore the signs... when they show up."

My breath caught. "S-Signs?"

"... of headaches, dizziness, confusion." He grinned lightly, tapping my temple. "It may get dangerous... if you ignore them." His eyes, serious again.

"Y-Yeah, you are right."I replied, my hands clenching the bedsheet.

Ray straightened, folding his arms. I swallowed hard, not sure if I was just imagining the shift in tone.

"And lastly..." Ray tilted his head, his voice dropping once more. "Strange dreams might come too..."

"Dreams?," I asked, lifting my eyebrow.

"... it's normal," he said quickly, flashing that soft, reassuring smile. "When the brain takes a hit, the mind can play tricks. Vivid, even unsettling dreams."

For a moment, something in his stare pierced straight through me, and my pulse hammered in my ears. Then he leaned back casually, the air of a friendly neighbor returning in full.

You took quite a fall last night. And... you were also pretty drunk, weren't you? That combination of alcohol and head hit--it's no surprise you can't remember much. That's completely normal.

I tried to chuckle, but it came out strained. "So I was just... drunk and clumsy."

"Anyway," he said with a light laugh, "follow those and you'll be just fine."

I nodded stiffly, unsettled. The words sounded like good advice. So why did they leave me feeling... restless?

31. Dream or Reality

We thanked Ray before leaving, his polite smile following us all the way to the door. My wife slipped her arm under mine, steadying me, her movements cautious as though I were made of glass. Every step I took back toward our home felt heavy, my mind still circling around the strange echo of Ray's words. Pay more attention... Why did it sound so much more than an health advice?

I stole a glance at her as we walked, and she caught my eyes with a gentle smile, warm and reassuring. Something inside my chest tightened, a dull pang I couldn't explain. Why was I feeling this way? She was out here supporting me, holding me and yet unease coiled quietly inside me.

We stopped by the pharmacy on our way back, my steps unsteady but her hand never leaving my arm. She took the prescription Ray had written and spoke quietly to the pharmacist while I sat on a bench nearby, rubbing the side of my head. She returned with a small paper bag rustled in her hands and concern in her eyes.

We reached home, it felt nice breathing familiar air. I told her I'd take the day off from work, and she nodded without protest, fussing around me, making sure I sat carefully on the sofa. Her attentiveness soothed me.

She returned from the kitchen with a small glass of water and two tablets resting on her palm. "Here," she said softly, crouching beside me, "Ray said that these will help with the pain in your head. But... they might make you a little drowsy, so just rest afterward."

I took them, watching her delicate fingers as they brushed against mine. Her eyes lingered on me, still damp with worry, as if she was afraid I might collapse all over again. Guilt stirred in my chest for putting her through so much.

I swallowed the pills, the bitter taste churning my tongue and leaned back. She set the glass aside and smoothed the blanket over me like I was a patient in her care.

"Just close your eyes," she whispered. "I'll take care of everything else."

Her warmth made my chest ache with love. My head grew heavy almost at once, the medicine already started working its charm, pushing me to sleep.

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*

Slap...

At first, it was nothing. A faint sound, somewhere far away, wrapped inside the heaviness pressing down on my skull. I shifted under the blanket, trying to ignore it.

Slap... slap...

The rhythm grew clearer. My brow furrowed. My ear twitched. What... what was that?

Slap...

I groaned, pushing my palms against the cushion, forcing my head up a little. The world tilted. My stomach pressed into the sofa, my chest heavy, but I could see straight ahead, down the hallway.

And there it was.

A figure, back turned to me. Skirt... lifted, pale thighs exposed, ass jiggling with every smack.

And... hands--striking hard, then grabbing, kneading, squeezing.

Slap.

He was swinging both his hands together at her exposed ass. She staggered on her feet, legs bent, heels digging into the floor as though the smack had stolen her balance. Her hands were looped around the man's neck, clutching tight, clinging for support.

I blinked, trying to clear the fog. Who... who is that?

I squinted my eyes hard, focusing, they kinda felt... familiar.

The man's hands were roughly grabbing her ass, squeezing, smacking. He spread her cheeks, held them wide, then clapped them back together with a wet sting. My stomach twisted. He was groping, sliding fingers between her crack, digging in, kneading the meat of her flesh while his other hand kept slapping loud, sharp.

Slap. Slap.

Her legs buckled under it. Every time he hit her, her thighs shook, knees knocking.

I blinked, my vision wavered, doubled. The man's face came into view, lines deep, eyes narrow. His face... it felt familiar, but I couldn't quite put a finger on who he was. He was staring right at me. And... smiling.

My chest thudded. Was the medicine playing tricks on me?

He didn't look away, not once. He just grinned at me as his hand grabbed two greedy handfuls of that woman's ass, squeezing until his knuckles whitened. Then he let go just to smack again, hard enough that her body lurched forward against him. Her ass was completely red and swollen.

I tried to say something. My lips opened, but no sound came out. My body refused to move. Only my head lifted, heavy, trembling, just enough to catch those blurred shapes.

She tightened her hands on his neck. Her back arched, her chest pressed against him, and he tilted his head closer, still looking at me.

Then, slowly, he fisted her hair. Pulled her head back. Her body jolted, throat stretched, lips openef in a faint gasp. Her face turned just enough, the faint edge of her face coming into view. A sliver of cheek, the curve of her open mouth, the shadow of her lashes. Familiar. Too familiar. My chest twisted hard.

That... face. Where had I seen it before? My chest stung with something I couldn't name, a knot pulling tighter the more I stared. I knew her. I was sure of it. It was all so damn familiar... but why couldn't I place it? Why was my head refusing to give me the answer, as if it was locked behind that blank haze?

He leaned in. His mouth clamped down on her neck. Loud, wet, sucking, lips dragging, teeth scraping. Her knees trembled harder, thighs rubbing, a faint moan slipping from her mouth that sent a cold chill racing through me.

All while his eyes stayed on mine. That grin widened around her skin as he sucked harder, like he wanted me to hear it.

My heart hammered.

What the hell is this...?

He smacked her ass again, harder. The sound cracked through the hallway, echoing. My pulse skipped. My body felt heavier, weaker, but my eyes wouldn't leave the sight.

Her hips shifted against him as his hands kept working her ass, groping, spreading, pressing her into his crotch like he wanted to mold her against him. She clung to his neck tighter, her body trembling with every pull of his mouth, every sting of his hand.

He broke the kiss just to lick the side of her throat, slow and wet, his stare never once letting go of mine.

My vision swayed. My stomach clenched.

Familiar. Too familiar. That face. That body.

But no... this has... to be a dream.

It felt too real, though. Each sting of the slap rang in my ears, sharp and wet, followed by her muffled gasp. His mouth latched onto her neck, sucking, loud, obscene, and that smile--God--that smile. It was aimed right at me, like he knew I was awake, like he wanted me to see every second of it.

No. This is just a dream. It has to be. Ray... Ray said something earlier about getting weird dreams... yeah, that's what this is. Just some twisted dream messing with my head.

I forced my eyes down, squeezing them shut, but the noises didn't stop. The steady smacks. The wet sucking. Her soft gasps, almost whimpers. They burrowed into my skull, as my eyelids grew heavier, pulling me back to sleep.

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*

My head was heavy, my breathing slow, but something dragged me out of that drowsy pit again.

Smack... Smack... Smack...

Mixed this time with a different sound. Wet. Dirty. And a low moan threading through it.

"Ugh... again?" I muttered, rubbing my face against the sofa cushion. My head pounded. The medicine was really messing me up. My ears twitched. Smack... Smack... Louder now, followed by a sharp gasp that sent a shiver crawling down my spine.

I pushed against the cushion, forcing myself up just enough to lift my head. My eyes blinked, blurred images swimming together before slowly pulling apart.

The first thing I saw... a piece of cloth on the floor, just little ahead of where I was sleeping. My brows furrowed. A cloth? Why was it just lying there? She would never throw something like that here and there. She always picked up everything right away.

My vision drifted past it, forward. The blur began to sharpen. My stomach tightened.

There was a body. On the floor. Moving forward violently.

Arms stretched out, palms flat against the floor, as if holding on for dear life. Hair covering the face, messy, wild. I couldn't see who it was. Couldn't even tell if they were crying or just moaning.

But the way the body jerked forward, arching, trembling--there was no mistaking it. My mouth went dry. She was getting fucked.

The strands covered her face completely. I couldn't see the face or her expression, but the sounds pouring out--those ragged, broken moans made it all very clear.

Smack... smack... smack...

The wet sound joined it, lewd and filthy, echoing in my skull.

The upper half of her body lay in plain view, but the lower half was hidden by the hallway wall. Every time her body moved forward, her arms stretched further, her fingers clawed at the floor.

"Who... the hell is that?" My voice cracked out low, unsure if I even spoke out loud or just thought it.

Her back arched with each thrust, her chest pressed to the floor one moment and lifted the next, shaking as if her lungs couldn't hold the sound in.

I blinked again, hard, but the sight didn't clear, only swam deeper into my skull. A body, jerking, bouncing, moaning like crazy. The medicine blurred my head, heavy, dizzy.

This... this is another weird dream. A trick of my brain.

And yet the sounds... those damn sounds wouldn't stop.

Smack... smack... smack...

Her cry followed each one, muffled and filthy, shaking the walls of the hallway.

Moans. Deep and raw.

Smack... smack... smack...

Each thrust landed with a wet slap that echoed into me, rattling my bones.

My chest hurt. A sharp pang shot through me, spreading out, squeezing my ribs. I clutched at my shirt, trying to breathe.

Her cries only grew louder, breaking between each slap. It sounded... it sounded too close. Too real.

"Wh... who... who are they?" My voice trembled. My eyes blinked, trying to clear the blur. "Why are they... doing this in my house?"

I bit down, teeth grinding as I stared. My vision swam, my head pounding, but I couldn't look away.

Her body rocked violently, every thrust shoving her forward, making her arms bend, elbows giving out as if she couldn't hold herself up. She cried out, hair whipping with each motion, chest dragging against the floor.

Smack... smack... smack...

The sound burned in my ears, filthy and raw.

It was too clear, too sharp, echoing through the walls until my chest tightened painfully.

But I shook my head, or tried to. My whole body felt heavy. My eyelids were barely staying open. The medicine... it's the medicine again. Nothing else. Just a dream, a trick. That's all.

I kept telling myself that, over and over, until suddenly--

A hand.

Out of the blur, a rough hand shot forward, grabbing a fistful of her messy hair covering her face. My breath caught in my throat as he pulled her head back hard, revealing her face, her back arching beautifully, her arms trembling under the force.

"No..." My voice cracked. Slowly, painfully.

It was her.

My stomach sank.

Her lips opened, her cheeks flushed, eyes glazed with lust and tears. My wife. My wife, pinned and used, her moans spilling out louder now, sharper, cutting straight into me like a knife.

Then--his face.

The man leaned in, the old... man, dragging her hair back, tilting her head until their mouths crushed together. His kiss was filthy, hungry, his tongue all over her face, shoving into her mouth while her muffled cry melted into it.

I couldn't breathe.

W--what... no... no way...

My chest seized, my throat closed. My heart hammered, too fast, too loud. "No... it's not... it can't be--"

But her moans answered me, clear and sharp, vibrating through the air until my body shook. She wasn't resisting. She was crying out in pleasure, shameless and broken, her voice echoing like she was begging for more.

I felt suffocated.

Even if it was a dream, even if it was the medicine twisting everything--seeing her like this, moaning like that, while his hand gripped her hair, his mouth devouring hers, it shattered me.

"This is... a dream... nothing more," I whispered desperately, my chest heaving. Sweat dripped down my temple. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I couldn't look anymore. I pressed my face deep into the sofa cushion, squeezing my eyes shut, praying for the sounds to stop.

But they didn't.

The moans grew sharper. The smacks louder. Wet, filthy slaps echoing against the walls, every thrust making her cry out like she was being ruined.

My whole body trembled. My shirt clung to me, damp with sweat. My chest felt like it was splitting open.

I shut my eyes tighter, clinging to the only lifeline I had left.

It's a dream. It's a dream. It has to be a dream.

The noise carried on, pounding into my skull until the medicine finally dragged me under again. My body gave out, heart still hammering, ears still burning with the sound of my wife moaning for another man.

And I drifted away into a dark, suffocating sleep.