She Is - 13
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
On your phone, Anna was no longer hiding her breasts from the janitor. More than that -- she sat there as if hypnotized by his cock. And where had she still found the scraps of conscience to keep herself covered between the legs? The old man staring at her was fumbling with his cock like a monkey with a pocket watch. Hopeless...
“Any further orders, SIR?” Anna asked mockingly. Why does she give that pitiful creature such power over her, and not you? People only elevate those they do not truly fear...
“Y-yes! Show me what you’ve got between your legs!”
You see your beloved’s breasts moving convulsively. She looks down, as if gathering her strength, then shifts closer to Omar. Slowly she parts her legs.
“Satisfied, Your Majesty?”
“Oh yes, yes, yes!!!!”
“Try not to burst from happiness,” Anna said, looking not at the bum’s face but at his cock. He, meanwhile, was staring between her legs, at the sheer panties. Anna sat with her toes pointed like a model. You started stroking faster, making the water splash. Damn! You started draining the bathwater, now gone lukewarm, so the splashing of your own self-gratification would not give you away.
“I want it to feel good for you too, daughter,” the janitor suddenly said in your earbuds.
“Omar, I told you...”
“Touch yourself with your fingers!” the old brute cut in. Annette seemed to lose the power of speech. It was hardly the order itself that held such power over her. You have another thought: the order happened to coincide with what she wanted!
“Wife, come to your senses, I’m right nearby, working just across the street, and you...” -- words like that dance in your head while you jerk off, ripping pleasure from your cock.
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