She Is 9
Copyright© 2026 by RogueTen
Chapter 7
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 7 - 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
Annette lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She slipped a hand under herself and wiped away the wetness. She -- who wanted to control everything in life -- couldn’t cope with her own body. Sometimes, in life, very little depends on us; sometimes nothing depends on us at all.
“I have to calm down,” she thought. “My body is on fire. Why?! I need to say a mantra ... why have they all flown out of my head...”
“Little girl, come to me,” the old man said, not letting her focus. Annette lifted her head and saw he’d already pulled out his huge cock and was jerking himself. The yogi crawled on all fours toward the janitor. Anzur couldn’t believe his eyes, watching her graceful hips sway and her large, restless breasts.
“Born whore...” he whispered, but Annette didn’t take offense. His words landed like praise for her acting -- it meant she was playing the whore perfectly. (Not being one, of course.) Omar knew she wasn’t some tramp.
Annette stopped between the janitor’s spread legs. He guided his cock to her lips himself.
“Go on, sweetheart.”
That was enough for her, coming from that old nothing of a man. In that moment she was level with these dull men. When someone loses their head, what does it matter how much brain there was to begin with...
Annette handled the part of the obedient little slut beautifully. Wrapping her hand around the base and flinching at the hot weight, she took him into her mouth with ragged, urgent breaths.
“Mmm,” she moaned, almost angrily -- losing control and trying to regain it -- and began moving her head.
Far away, out of town, Yuri was writing her a long message about how they needed to move. Writing and deleting. Writing and deleting again.
And Annette was sucking an immigrant’s cock.
“Why the hell isn’t that bastard fucking me?” she thought with irritation, bewildered by the market man’s slowness. Her pussy was burning, spilling, and it was getting harder and harder to keep working Omar with her mouth. With every second Annette understood more sharply: she needed something inside her. Masturbating in front of them, without Omar “ordering” it -- just from her own desire -- felt mega-humiliating, but a little more and the beauty wouldn’t hold out.
Anzur finally stood up, ready to perform his man’s duty, but -- damn him -- Omar didn’t let him. The janitor, feeling a power over a first-class beauty he’d never known before, decided to use it to the full.
“Come to the bed, my good girl,” he said.
Annette couldn’t even get angry at the “my” -- not with that unbearable pressure between her legs.
“Is he going to fuck me himself?” she thought, rising. But Omar stopped her, touching her shoulder.
“Come on all fours. You do it beautifully.”
Annette clenched her fingers so she wouldn’t moan at the suggestion -- to crawl beside a man like that.
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