Liam starts leaving work early.
Parks two streets over. Hood up. Cap low.
First time he follows, she goes straight to Derek’s.
Back door. No knock. Just walks in like it’s hers.
Liam circles the house. Bathroom window—open. Curtain half-drawn.
He sees everything.
Derek’s got her on all fours on the kitchen floor. Face down, arse up. Thick cock slamming in.
Two others there—Stan and the moustache from poker. One in her mouth, one in her hand. Rotating like a spit-roast.
She’s crying. Not sad. Just overwhelmed. Spit and cum bubbling from her lips every time she gags.
Derek yanks her hair, pulls her up by the throat.
“Look at the window.”
Ava freezes.
Liam doesn’t move.
Derek grins. “Tell him.”
Ava turns her head—eyes glassy, mouth open—and locks on Liam.
Then she moans louder. Arches back. “Fuck me harder. Right here.”
Derek obliges. Looks directly at Liam then slaps her clit. Makes her squirt on the tiles.
Liam’s hand’s down his trousers before he realises. Cums in his fist watching her face—mouth wide, tongue out, begging.
They don’t stop.
After they finish, she crawls to the window. Presses her cum-streaked tits to the glass.
Liam stumbles back into the bushes.
She smiles—slow, secret—then closes the curtain.
He goes home. Pretends like nothing has happened.
Second night, he follows her again.
This time they drive. Derek’s van. Ava in the passenger seat—dress rucked up, hand on his cock the whole way.
They stop at an industrial estate.
Inside a half-lit warehouse. Concrete floor. Folding chairs. Six men.
She’s on her knees before the doors shut.
They line up.
She sucks, swallows, bends over, spreads cheeks. Takes them raw. Takes them dirty. Takes two at once—cock in arse, fingers in pussy, mouth full.
One finishes inside her, pulls out, watches it bubble out. Another dives in, pushes it back in with his dick.
Liam watches from the shadows, phone recording. He can't believe how his once fiery yet perfect housewife has allowed herself to be treated like such a whore. He starts to look at her differently
When they leave she’s limp. Legs shaking. Cum in her hair like pearls.
Derek carries her. Tucks her in the van like a bride.
Liam walks home alone.
Third night.
He doesn’t wait. Just stands in the alley behind Derek’s place.
Hears them before he sees.
Ava’s voice: “Use my mouth. Use my holes. Just don’t stop.”
Then the slap. The grunt. The wet.
He peeks round the corner.
They’ve got her on a plastic garden table. Legs in the air. Three cocks at once.
One in each end. One rubbing between her tits.
She’s begging in tongues—half words, half moans.
Liam leans against the wall. Pulls his cock out.
Jacks in time with their thrusts.
When they finish, they just zip up and go back inside for beer.
Leave her there—face glazed, cunt gaping, arse red and leaking.
She stays.
Liam steps out the dark.
She sees him. Doesn’t flinch.
Just spreads her thighs wider.
“Clean me,” she whispers.
He drops to his knees.
But pauses, looks her in the eyes and presses his forehead to hers like he's had an epiphany and says he can't do this anymore but she is in such a euphoric haze, she doesn’t understand the connotations of his words so she kisses his forehead—lips sticky, breath like ash and sex.
“Then go home,” she says. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
He stands. Legs weak.
Turns.
Doesn’t look back.
But hears the back door open.
Derek’s voice: “Ready for round two, slut?”
He hears her giggle, she says to Derek loud enough for Liam to hear that she thinks the cuck is upset, to which they both laugh
Then the door shuts.
This is the straw that broke the camels back!
Liam walks into his house knowing that things with them have changed forever, she's no longer his sweet wife, she's now spoilt goods.
He feels a sense of sorrow for what he thought they once had but is now gone.
Weeks go by, Ava is rarely home she has accepted what she had with Liam is broken beyond repair. By now she's sleeping alone, Derek keeps her busy, fucking, public humiliation, being shared and loaned out to his poker buddies, even put into taxis as a stripper to his friends or even just acquaintances stag nights where she's told to service every cock before she leaves. so she didn't have time to think on it to much.
Then without warning Derek dissappears, she hasn't heard from him in days. She sees on Derek's FB that he's on holiday down south with a girl he met at a bar. Not a word to her like she's nothing to him.
Suddenly she starts to feel lonely, the bed feels huge. Sheets still smell like Derek’s cum and her own shame.
Liam moved to the spare room three weeks ago. Locks the door.
Every time she knocks he says, “Not tonight.”
She hears it in his voice—revulsion.
He won’t even look at her anymore.
For some reason this hurts her, without Derek to distract her, she realises how much she misses Liam and starts thinking about how she has been a willing participant in his humiliation.
So she tells herself that she has to change and stop being such a whore.
For starters she scrubs the house top to bottom. Throws out every bottle of lube. Washes every towel twice.
When Derek texts: "Holidaying in Spain with my girlfriend so can't text much in case she catches him, doesn't want to hurt her feelings. But back in two weeks. Miss my cumdump" "tell the cuck I'll pick him up a souvenir" followed by several laughing emojis.
She fumes and doesn’t reply.
Starts cooking dinner. Wears joggers. Does laundry.
Liam eats the lasagne. Says “thanks” without looking up. |
