She Is 8
Copyright© 2026 by RogueTen
Chapter 3
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 3 - 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
The old men circled the table from both sides and stopped in front of the beauty. She was dazzling, radiant ... and nervous, a goddess still learning her role.
It was obvious it was still difficult for Annette to inhabit this new part. Even as her vagina gave off more and more wetness near two bare male cocks, she bit her lips; her gaze wasn’t steady. Her pose, though, remained royal.
From one side, Omar reached for her raised knee and inhaled the yogini’s skin. A shiver ran through her. Anzur slid a hand along her shoulder ... then over her breast ... and when his fingers brushed her tightened nipple, Annette breathed out a moan.
“Um!”
The market man watched her with interest, then winked at Omar. They continued to stroke themselves, as if the beauty were already theirs.
But when Anzur tried to squeeze the yogini’s breast, Annette knocked his hand away.
“Did I give you permission?” she asked coldly.
The vendor stared at her, baffled. His expression said, “Are you out of your mind, bitch?” But he didn’t dare say it aloud.
Omar was already kissing Annette’s ass. He wanted to bury his mouth in her pussy, but with his buddy watching, it felt shameful. It wouldn’t have been shameful to grab the “wife” by the hair and fuck her in front of a friend -- but she wouldn’t allow that today; you could see it in her.
Today she was entertaining them differently.
Omar knew that everything he did with Annette had to be permitted by her. If she wanted it, it happened. If she didn’t, nothing happened. This wasn’t some simple fool you could ignore and do whatever you pleased to. The possibility of doing whatever he wanted, of course, existed -- if she let it exist.
Something was happening in her beautiful head, some processes, and the old man, though he sometimes soothed his ego by telling himself he’d tricked the beauty and used her any way he liked, understood in practice that he was using a woman stronger than him.
Which meant he’d been granted luck -- and luck might stop smiling tomorrow. And then he could do nothing about it.
Understanding that, Omar gave in to a sudden urge. He pressed against Annette and began to rub up and down, his cock trapped between their bodies.
“Omar! What are you doing?” Annette asked, but there was no firm no in her voice. On the contrary: there was a tremor of arousal.
“Sorry, daughter -- I can’t hold back!”
Annette rolled her eyes ... but she didn’t push him away.
Seeing that, Anzur pressed in from the other side and began to rub, too, his cock pinned against her.
“Pff,” Annette commented with contempt -- and yet she started breathing heavily.
Her foot was still on the table.
Omar sank back into that familiar feeling: I know how to string this woman along. He celebrated his victories and achievements on the front line of seducing Annette.
Sometimes he barely managed to stop himself in the heat of wanting. He wanted to cross every line -- call Annette a bitch, smear semen across her face, spank her. In him lived a mix of subterranean violence and infantile fantasies, the craving to regress and be free of responsibility.
But Omar understood nothing about himself. He simply chased pleasure, drifting through life by instinct.
Annette felt the embrace of two men at once, their hard cocks leaving wetness on her skin, and it grew harder and harder to hold the chosen pose. The toes on her raised foot clenched and unclenched. She licked her sexy lips while the old men drove their cocks harder into her soft skin.
Anzur worked especially hard. He thrust his hips quickly and moaned. His thin body now seemed to Annette to be overflowing with male sexuality. Of course, that sexuality was concentrated in his hard cock, battering her.
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