Chapter 6

I stepped into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind me with that same soft finality it always had. The living room was dim, lit only by the floor lamp’s warm glow and the blue flicker of the muted TV. The air hit me immediately—her vanilla lotion, mixed with something heavier, muskier, saltier. Sweat. Sex. The faint metallic edge of arousal that made my stomach clench before my brain even caught up.

They were right there.

Brad was sprawled across our couch like he’d been born on it—legs spread wide, black athletic shorts shoved down just enough to free his cock. Thick. Heavy. Veined. Glistening with her spit. Kristen was on her knees between his thighs, sundress bunched around her hips, black lace thong pulled to the side and soaked through. Her dark hair spilled over his lap, head moving in slow, deliberate rhythm. One hand braced on his muscular thigh for balance, the other wrapped around the thick base, stroking what her mouth couldn’t take. Obscene sucking sounds filled the quiet room—slow, greedy, unhurried. Gluck ... gluck ... gluck ... each time she took him deeper, her throat working visibly.

I froze in the entryway. Keys still dangling from my fingers. Heart slamming so hard it hurt my ribs. Kristen saw me first. Her eyes snapped up—wide, panicked. She made a startled, choked sound around his cock, half-gasp, half-gag, and tried to pull off. A thick string of saliva stretched from her swollen lower lip to the glistening head, snapping when she jerked back.

Brad didn’t flinch. He simply turned his head toward me, calm as if I’d just walked in from grabbing the mail. His expression stayed relaxed, almost bored. One hand stayed possessively on the back of her head, fingers threaded loosely through her hair. He gave her a gentle but firm nudge downward, guiding her mouth right back onto him even as she whimpered in embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he murmured to her, voice low and soothing, like he was calming a startled animal. “It’s okay, baby. Keep going. Tim just got home. He needs to get used to this. It’s perfectly normal now.”

Kristen hesitated—eyes darting wildly between Brad’s face and mine—then obeyed. Her lips slid back down his shaft, slower this time, more self-conscious. Cheeks hollowing as she took him deeper. A soft, humiliated moan vibrated around him. Her free hand gripped his thigh tighter, nails digging into the muscle like she was anchoring herself against the shame.

Brad looked back at me, completely unruffled. His hips gave a small, lazy roll, feeding another inch into her mouth. She gagged softly, throat fluttering, but didn’t pull away.

“Almost done here, Timmy,” he said casually, like he was updating me on the score of a game I wasn’t watching. “She’s been working me real good tonight. Deep-throat game on point.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye when she gagged again. “Go take a shower. By the time you’re out, I’ll probably be finishing in her mouth.”

Kristen whimpered around him—humiliated, needy, torn—but her head kept moving. Lips stretched wide. Tongue swirling visibly along the underside every time she pulled back. Saliva dripped in thick strands down her chin, onto his balls, onto the couch cushion we used to watch movies on. The rhythmic slurp-slurp-slurp filled the silence between his words.

I stood there, rooted. Keys biting into my palm. Heart hammering. My cock—traitor that it was—twitched painfully against the front of my slacks, already half-hard from the sheer visual obscenity of it: my wife on her knees in our living room, dress hiked up, thong shoved aside, worshipping another man’s dick like it was the only thing that mattered.

Brad tilted his head slightly, studying me with mild curiosity. Kristen tried to pull off again—eyes pleading toward me, mascara starting to smudge—but Brad’s hand tightened just enough in her hair to keep her in place.

“Uh-uh,” he said gently to her. “Eyes on me, Kristit. Finish what you started. Tim’s a big boy. I’m sure he can handle seeing his wife suck another cock like a pro now.”

“You good, man?” he asked, almost politely. “You look a little pale. Long day?”

My mouth opened. Nothing came out at first. Just air. A dry, useless puff of breath. My keys were still clenched in my fist, metal biting into the skin so hard I felt the sting, but I couldn’t let go. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away from the way her lips were stretched wide around him, the way saliva glistened on her chin and dripped in slow, shiny strands onto his balls every time she bobbed. The blowjob sound kept going, obscene and rhythmic, louder now that she was trying—and failing—to be quiet.

I swallowed. Tried again.

“I—I didn’t ... I mean, I just got home,” I stammered, voice cracking like a teenager’s. “I didn’t know you were ... I mean, I can come back later. Or—or go to the bedroom. I didn’t mean to ... interrupt.”

The words tumbled out, weak and apologetic, like I was the one who’d walked in on something private. Like I was the intruder in my own living room.

Brad didn’t even laugh. He just tilted his head a fraction, still stroking Kristen’s cheek with his thumb while she kept sucking—slower now, more deliberate, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation but mouth still working obediently up and down his shaft.

“Interrupt?” he repeated, almost amused. “Nah, Timmy. You’re not interrupting. You live here. This is your house. You get to see whatever happens in it.” He gave a small upward thrust of his hips, making Kristen gag softly around him. She whimpered, the sound muffled but didn’t stop. “Besides, she’s almost got me there. You walked in at a good time. Prime viewing spot.”