She Is 3
Copyright© 2025 by RogueTen
Chapter 12
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 12 - A saintly yoga wife, her burned-out "nice guy" husband, and a creepy basement janitor slip into one messed-up loop of lust, guilt and voyeurism. This isn’t about cheating, it’s about something worse: when you suddenly realize it turns you on to see your perfect little world get dragged through the mud – and you don’t want it to stop.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Coercion Consensual Drunk/Drugged NonConsensual Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching Wimp Husband RAAC DomSub Humiliation Light Bond Rough Spanking Gang Bang Group Sex Swinging Interracial Black Male White Male White Female Oriental Male White Couple Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Facial Fisting Masturbation Oral Sex Spitting Squirting Voyeurism Public Sex Prostitution
Annette still hadn’t fallen asleep when painful moans drifted from Omar’s room. Alarmed, frightened, the beauty snatched up the waffle-knit throw, flung it over herself as best she could, and hurried to the old man.
Switching on the light in his room, she found the immigrant curled on the bed in a fetal position. He was masturbating fast, groaning. Seeing by the sudden light that someone else was present, the old man lifted his eyes. He saw Annette, stunned by what she’d walked in on. The sight, it must be said, instantly cooled her rescuer’s fervor.
The throw barely covered Annette’s body. She hadn’t cared much about appearances when she thought the guest was in trouble. Beneath the poor “cover” you could clearly see her thigh, her leg ... and the mound of her pubic hair. Not all of it, but the fact that any of it was visible was a a feast for Omar. He hadn’t expected that.
Higher up, Annette’s hands held the throw over her chest. But they did it in such a way that her full breasts, badly concealed, seemed to swell even more under the pressure of her arms, indecently.
“Omar, I heard moaning...” Annette said, not knowing how to react to what she was seeing.
“It’s hurting again. But now it’s especially bad!” the old man complained, deploying every ounce of his acting skill. Like any hypocrite, he could play roles. As he spoke, Omar kept stroking himself, which flustered Annette even more.
“M-maybe ... a pill...” she said, lost.
“I took one! I’ve taken three times the maximum allowed! I’ve been trying to come for the last two hours so this pain will stop, but NOTHING! I’m exhausted!”
Annette pitied him so sharply it ached. There was so much, she thought, sincere feeling in his words. And she had absolutely no idea how to help in a situation like this.
Meanwhile the old man, not hiding it at all, devoured her body with his eyes as he continued to pleasure himself. He did it so openly, so greedily, that Annette, despite all her innocence, finally understood: she was being looked at as a sexual object. And in the same instant she realized what she was “showing off” in front of another man.
“Ah!” she cried and yanked the throw down to cover her crotch.
But because she had to lower one hand, the other now covered her breasts poorly on its own. The throw nearly slipped.