She Is 9
Copyright© 2026 by RogueTen
Chapter 10
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 10 - 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 Orgy 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
They went to the table. Yuri filled two glasses -- his and Omar’s. Annette poured herself juice.
“Well then -- to Omar!” Yuri began his toast. “He may be up there in years, but he’s strong, healthy -- and that’s what matters! Bet you’re bringing young beauties down to your basement, huh, Omar?”
Annette rolled her eyes, flushing. She wanted to fall through the floor.
“Why did I agree to this?” she thought.
Omar, who knew Yuri had seen him fucking one of those “young beauties” in his basement, looked away. He didn’t understand the host’s game and he was afraid.
“Oh, come on, what beauties would I have...”
“Don’t play humble -- the best ones!” Yuri said brightly. “The kind like my wife.”
The lovers sat in stunned silence. Annette wondered if it was a hint. What if Yuri knows? A dirty conscience has a way of reminding you that payment always comes due. Omar knew it was a hint, and he tried, convulsively, to understand why Yuri was dropping them.
Yuri enjoyed their faces and took a swallow of wine. The others followed. Annette swallowed her juice and thought that tonight she should have poured herself wine.
Then they ate in silence. After her husband’s strange words, that silence felt heavy to Annette. She was afraid she’d hear an accusation in it -- accusation of betrayal.
“Why are we silent?” she said nervously, spearing seafood with her fork. “Yuri, did you invite someone just to drink? Tell us something interesting.”
Yuri put on a thoughtful look, smirking.
“Something interesting ... hmm ... did you know a famous monarch supposedly slept in a closet?” he said.
“Wow, fascinating,” Annette said with sarcasm. In truth she was relieved the conversation had moved away from anything that brushed too close to cheating.
“Not impressed? Here’s another ‘interesting’ thing. I read statistics on paternity tests -- turns out up to thirty percent of men get a negative result. Meaning they’re raising kids that aren’t theirs.”
Annette started coughing, unable to swallow her bite of salmon. Omar grew more and more nervous at the obvious slant of Yuri’s “facts,” and that showed in how fast the immigrant drank. His glass was already empty, and Yuri poured him more.
Yuri kept steering the talk the same way -- toward wives cheating, toward how Omar surely didn’t live like a saint and must be fucking beauties, surely didn’t mind married ones either. Annette, already permanently gnawed by guilt, was shredded by it.
Pushed to the edge by her husband’s fine cruelty, she suddenly said:
“Yuri, pour me wine too.”
The men stared at her in shock.
“Sweetheart ... you drink...” Yuri began.
“One time, to ‘relax,’ like you say, is allowed.”
This was the moment Yuri felt fully, completely satisfied. He understood he’d managed to jab Annette and fan her guilt into a bonfire. After that he stopped torturing her.
He poured her half a glass -- and Annette downed it in one gulp.
“Khh-khh,” she coughed, eyes squeezed shut. “More!”
“Annette, are you sure?...”
“Yuri, pour more!”
He obeyed. It felt like watching a nun decide, instead of prayer, to get drunk on wine.
Alcohol hit the yogi, unaccustomed to it, hard. Very hard. She sat there glassy-eyed, looking around in slow astonishment as the apartment began to drift like a river. The men, by then, were in much the same state.
Yuri, his revenge completed, felt an acute need to vent to Omar. He started telling him how unfair everything was at the bank. The janitor -- who had finally realized Yuri wasn’t plotting anything and that he could relax -- listened with half an ear, watching the beauty.
Her cleavage, as always, pulled the gaze. And her look -- drunk, stripped of its usual stiffness and untouchable pride -- was frankly arousing. In this state, in this face, Annette begged to be grabbed, bent, and fucked hard, listening to her moans.
Omar began stroking himself under the table.
And Yuri kept complaining and complaining ... Omar nodded to look involved, losing the thread.
“Stop bobbing your head or it’ll fall off,” Yuri said in a slurred, drunken voice. “It’s not for bobbing. It’s for thinking.”
Even drunk, Annette bristled at the way her husband spoke to the weak old man.
“Yuri, Omar is listening to your complaints and you’re still blaming him for something! Maybe he’s not interested and he’s only listening out of politeness! You’re like a rolling complaint book with no solutions!”
Yuri pressed his lips tight under his wife’s rebuke and changed the subject. And every time he so much as poked Omar, Annette rose to defend the stupid janitor like a mother hen.
“Why do you pick at him?” she fumed. “This is wrong, that is wrong ... If Omar walked on water tomorrow, you’d probably say he just can’t swim!”
That made Yuri laugh. With each glass, his negativity toward Omar faded even without his wife scolding him. Soon, after two bottles were finished and the third was being poured, Yuri was treating the man who’d been fucking his wife as his best friend.
Omar helped that along by arguing with nothing. In his usual snake-like way he agreed with everything his companion said and even convinced himself he thought the same. All the while he was burning up with sexual desire for the busty “whore” across from him. Her gaze was so wandering, so unfixed, that you could bend her over right now and fuck her like a last bitch.
The old man couldn’t bear the pressure anymore. He pulled out his cock and started jerking off.