She Is 9
Copyright© 2026 by RogueTen
Chapter 2
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 2 - 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
In the shower, Annette couldn’t shake an edgy, taut feeling she couldn’t quite understand herself.
“Do all men really think of nothing but fucking me? Omar -- I helped him fight off those teenagers. Why did he want me? Where did the desire even come from? Aren’t they all like that? I sit here thinking they talk to me about serious things, but in truth any one of my acquaintances might rather fuck me than speak! No, that can’t be true, that’s nonsense ... though ... if even a feeble old man, whenever he gets a chance, crawls under my skirt ... maybe, in his simplicity, he just does what ALL men want to do in my presence, but they keep themselves in check?”
Thoughts like that tormented Annette. It felt as if she’d come up to a line where she had to revise her whole view of the world and people. Did she understand people -- men in particular? She no longer knew.
After the shower the yogi ordered fruit on her husband’s card. She didn’t want to go anywhere in this inner disarray. While she waited for the courier, Annette tried to meditate.
But the problem was that her pussy, after that sudden mating with the janitor, was still pulsing. Masturbation would have helped here, but Annette had strictly forbidden it to herself. The beauty could already sense who she’d be thinking about if she satisfied herself -- and guilt wouldn’t let her do it.
Meditation turned into a fight with herself, and Annette only lost strength and time. She was even glad when the courier’s arrival ended the torment.
When she opened the door, she saw a very young guy. If you’ll allow it, he was the opposite of Omar. But what would You know of that immigrant’s youth? In any case, Annette immediately noticed that the guy’s gaze, just like Omar’s in her presence, dropped straight to her chest. The old doubt -- do men see her only as a sex object -- sparked again in her head.
Obeying a curious impulse, the beauty said, “Come in, please. Put it on the table.”
The surprised courier wanted to answer that he had other deliveries and he was in a hurry, but under Annette’s starry look he didn’t dare argue. The boy was very shy in general. Clearly sensing that the customer had something in mind, he slipped off his sneakers and followed her into the living room. Annette sat down right beside him.
She carefully tracked the courier’s eyes as they ran over her legs and her chest, and then asked, “Tell me -- did I dress nicely for my husband?”
The boy blinked, startled.
“Y-yes. I think it’s nice.”
“So, you ‘think’ it’s nice, or it’s nice? To be honest, I’d like to look sexy. Do I look sexy like this?”
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