Black Hands, White Lotion

Marrird Beauty Therapist Jo has little experience with good sex. Her hubby master bates at home while she is working. He is a cuckold. One day a fit black guy walks into her salon

The moment the bell chimed above the salon door, Jo’s fingers stilled on the neck of her client. She didn’t even realize she’d stopped massaging until the older woman beneath her cleared her throat. But Jo couldn’t look away from the man who’d just walked in—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark skin that gleamed under the soft salon lights. His fitted t-shirt clung to his chest, the sleeves tight around thick biceps. "Just a sec, Mrs. Wilkins," Jo murmured, wiping her hands on her apron. The stranger didn’t make an appointment. He didn’t need to. His presence alone filled the room—confident, unhurried, like he already knew what he was there for. "Deep tissue," he said, his voice low. "Preferably with those hands of yours." Jo bit her lip. Her husband hadn't touched her in months—not properly, anyway. Just his usual routine: waiting until she left for work, then locking himself in their bedroom with his pathetic little cock in his hand. But this man? He didn’t look like he’d ever settled for his own grip. "Room three," she said, pulling off her apron. "I’ll take care of you myself." And she intended to. Every last inch.

Jo led him down the dimly lit hallway, her pulse quickening with each step. The scent of lavender oil clung to the air, but beneath it, she caught something hotter—his cologne, musky and rich. She gestured to the massage table. "Get comfortable. I'll be right back." When she returned with fresh towels and warm oil, he was already stretched out, his bare back a landscape of dense muscle. The sight of his bare skin sent a shiver through her. Kneeling beside the table, she poured oil into her palms, letting it heat between her fingers before pressing them to his shoulders. His muscles tensed under her touch—not from discomfort, but something else. She worked slowly, digging her thumbs into the knots along his spine, feeling the way his breath hitched when she hit a particularly tight spot. "You're good at this," he rumbled. Jo smirked, sliding her hands lower. "Just warming up." His skin was warm, slick under her touch, and when her fingers ghosted over the waistband of his shorts, his hips shifted almost imperceptibly. Testing. Her breath caught. This wasn’t just a massage anymore.

Jo hesitated, fingers hovering just above the waistband of his shorts. The familiar weight of guilt settled in her chest—his sharp inhale, the shift of his hips, the unspoken invitation. She pulled back abruptly, wiping her hands on the towel. "Actually," she said, voice steadier than she felt, "I should check on my other client." He turned his head, dark eyes locking onto hers with quiet intensity. "You sure?" For a second, the air between them crackled—his question wasn’t just about the massage. But then Jo straightened, smoothing her apron. "Professional boundaries," she murmured, more to herself than him. As she stepped back, his low chuckle followed her. "Next time, then." She closed the door behind her, pulse still racing. *Respectable*, she reminded herself. But the heat lingering in her palms told a different story.

Jo found Lou in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. His brow lifted as she leaned against the counter, restless fingers twisting the hem of her apron. "I almost crossed a line today," she admitted. Lou smirked. "With the guy from room three?" She exhaled sharply. "You *knew*?" "His shorts were tented when he walked in. Not exactly subtle." He set his mug down, stepping closer. "But he’s not the problem—you are." His hand slid up her arm, fingers tracing the tension in her shoulder. "You want him." Jo swallowed. "I shouldn’t." "Why? Because respectable women don’t?" Lou’s thumb brushed her collarbone, possessive. "Or because you’re afraid of how good it’ll feel?" Her breath hitched as his other hand settled low on her hip. "Tell me to stop," he murmured against her ear. She didn’t.

Jo gets cross with Lou for encouraging her to fuck other guys. She is suspicious. What is his plan behind all this

Jo pulled back, her fingers tightening around Lou’s wrist. “Wait.” Her pulse pounded in her throat, but the heat in her gut was now tangled with something sharper. “You’re *pushing* me toward him. Why?” Lou’s grin was slow, deliberate. “Because I like watching you squirm.” She scoffed, shoving his chest—not hard enough to move him. “Bullshit. You’ve got an angle.” His hands settled on her waist, thumbs pressing into the dip of her hip bones. “Maybe I wanna see how far you’ll go.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “Maybe I wanna hear every dirty detail after.” A shudder ran through her. That possessive grip didn’t match the permission in his words. Her nails dug into his shoulders. “You’re into this.” Lou’s lips brushed the shell of her ear. “I’m into *you*.” His teeth grazed her earlobe, sharp enough to make her gasp. “So fuck him. Then come home and let me reclaim what’s mine.” Jo’s stomach clenched—not just at the command, but at the dark thrill in his voice. He wasn’t just encouraging her. He was *orchestrating* it.

Jo’s breath came faster, her grip tightening in his shirt. “What if I like it too much?” she challenged, her voice low and rough. “What if I *need* it?” Lou’s fingers dug into her hips, pulling her flush against him. The hard line of his arousal pressed into her stomach, a silent contradiction to his calm smirk. “Then I’ll fuck you harder when you crawl back to me.” She arched a brow, heart hammering. “What if I don’t crawl? What if I *run* to him instead?” A growl rumbled in his chest. His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back. “Try it.” His thumb dragged across her bottom lip, possessive. “You’ll still come home wetter than ever, begging for me to fix it.” Jo’s pulse jumped. He wasn’t threatened. He was *excited*. The realization sent a rush of heat between her thighs. She licked her lips, felt his grip tighten. “Guess we’ll see,” she whispered. And this time, she was the one who kissed him—hard.

But she wants him to feel threatened. She Wants him to feel angst. She is struggling with what to do so he should be too

Jo pulled back from the kiss, lips swollen, and let her fingers trail down Lou’s chest with deliberate slowness. “What if I *like* the idea of you sitting at home, wondering?” Her voice was a taunt, fingertips skimming the waistband of his jeans. “Wondering what he’s doing to me. What sounds I’m making for him.” Lou’s jaw flexed, but his grip on her hips didn’t falter. “You think I don’t know exactly what you’d sound like?” His voice was steady, but she caught the roughness beneath it. She smirked, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his throat. “You *don’t*,” she breathed against his skin. “Not with him. Not when I’m *his* for the night.” A muscle in his shoulder tensed under her palm. Good. Jo stepped back, savoring the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to snatch her back. “Watch me walk out that door,” she murmured, dragging her nails down his arm. “Then tell me you’re not fucking *terrified* I won’t come back.” His laugh was low, strained. “You’ll come back.” But his eyes burned—too dark, too sharp. She turned, hips swaying, and didn’t look back. Let him choke on that uncertainty.

--- The door clicked shut behind her, the sound final. Lou stood there, fists clenched at his sides, the ghost of her nails still stinging on his skin. The room smelled like her perfume—vanilla and something sharper, something reckless. Jo didn’t glance back, didn’t hesitate. She slid into the waiting car, the leather cool against her bare thighs. *His* car. The driver didn’t speak, just met her eyes in the rearview, dark and knowing. She leaned back, let her skirt ride higher. “You know where we’re going.” A statement, not a question. Inside, Lou’s voice growled in her head—*you’ll come back*—but right now, the only thing that mattered was the slow smirk on the driver’s lips. The way his fingers flexed on the wheel. She crossed her legs, slow. Let him look. Lou could stew. She had plans. --- (Kept it tight, focused on Jo’s power play and the immediate tension. Didn’t rush into the next encounter—let the *threat* of it linger.)

The car hummed beneath her, the vibration sending a thrill up Jo’s thighs as she let her fingertips trace idle circles on the leather seat. The driver’s eyes flicked to the rearview again, lingering this time—not just on her legs, but the deliberate part of her lips, the way her chest rose with each slow breath. *Lou’s still in her head.* The thought curled hot in her gut. Good. Let him fester. But this wasn’t about him anymore. She uncrossed her legs, let the skirt slide higher, fabric whispering against her skin. “You ever drive for someone like me before?” she purred, watching his knuckles whiten on the wheel. A low chuckle. “Not like you.” Jo grinned, teeth catching her lower lip. *Decision made.* She’d toyed with Lou long enough—tonight, she’d stop teasing and take what she really wanted. Her hand drifted to the clasp of her purse, where the sleek black remote nestled inside. One press, and Lou’s cage would tighten. Let him *really* squirm.

Lou feels his cage. He is not so confident she will return. Jo knows this is the beginning of her new femdom phase.

Lou's cock strained against the unforgiving metal of the cage, the pressure sharp enough to make his breath hitch. Through the apartment window, he watched the car pull away—Jo’s silhouette barely visible behind tinted glass. His jaw clenched. She wouldn’t even give him the satisfaction of watching her leave. The remote in her purse wasn’t just a threat—it was a promise. And when the first punishing pulse of vibration hit, his knees nearly buckled. A strangled groan tore from his throat. The device was set to random intervals, just like she’d warned him. No pattern. No mercy. --- Jo exhaled, slow and satisfied, as the driver’s gaze burned into her. “Faster,” she murmured, thumb hovering over the remote’s second button. The car surged forward, and so did the intensity—Lou’s choked gasp echoing in her mind as the cage’s teeth bit deeper. She leaned in, close enough to catch the musk of the driver’s cologne. “Tell me,” she breathed, “how good you are at keeping secrets.” His answering grin was all the confirmation she needed. This wasn’t just a night out. It was a takeover.

Lou was waiting impatiently for any news. There were no calls or texts. Only the tightness of his cage. What was she doing he was sure she was bluffing

Lou paced the apartment, the cage's relentless grip turning every step into a quiet torment. The silence was worse than the vibrations—no calls, no texts, just the hum of his own frustration. *She’s bluffing.* He clenched his fists. She wouldn’t dare go through with it. Then the remote flared to life again. A brutal, unrelenting surge of tightening—no tease, no buildup. Lou hissed, stumbling against the wall as the metal teeth dug into his trapped flesh. His vision blurred. *Fuck.* She wasn’t bluffing. --- The driver’s fingers tightened on Jo’s thigh as she adjusted the remote’s settings. “You like watching him suffer?” he asked, voice rough. Jo’s laugh was low, indulgent. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, thumb teasing the next setting. “I haven’t even *started*.” The cage’s vibration kicked up, ruthless and erratic. Lou’s muffled cry vibrated through her phone—live audio feed straight to her ears. She turned to the driver, letting her palm slide up his thigh. “Now… where were we?”

The driver's grip on Jo’s thigh tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath her dress. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. *"You think you're the one in charge?"* His free hand snatched the remote from her, thumb sliding over the controls with brutal precision. Lou’s choked scream crackled through the speakers—raw, desperate. Jo gasped as the driver’s teeth grazed her neck, his other hand pulling her dress up roughly. "You want to play games?" he growled, turning the vibration setting to max. Lou’s agonized moan filled the car. "Then let’s see how good you are at following *my* rules." The remote clattered to the floor as he yanked Jo onto his lap, her back pressed against his chest. "Keep the cage on him," he ordered, his palm smacking her ass hard enough to make her arch. "But *I* decide when he suffers." His fingers slipped between her thighs, finding her already wet. "And right now? He’s not the one I’m interested in." Jo’s breath hitched—powerless, for the first time all night.

Jo shuddered as the driver’s fingers worked her with ruthless precision, his grip leaving marks on her hips. His other hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back so she could feel his smirk against her skin. *“Lou’s listening, isn’t he?”* The words were barely a whisper before he ground his palm against her clit—slow, deliberate. A broken groan escaped her lips, loud enough for the phone to pick up. Lou’s ragged breathing on the other end twisted into something raw, furious. *“That’s right,”* the driver murmured, dragging her dress down to expose her tits, pinching a nipple until she whimpered. *“Let him hear what he’ll never touch again.”* Across town, Lou slammed his fist into the wall, the cage’s vibration locking him in a torment he couldn’t escape. Every muffled cry, every slick sound of Jo being taken, drilled into his skull. *She’s fucking loving this.* The realization hit like a punch. And the remote was still set to *max.*

Lou decides he will deal with her if and when she returns. Meanwhile Jo has only thought for her new man

Lou’s blood roared in his ears as the sounds from the phone grew louder—Jo’s breathless moans, the driver’s dark chuckle, the wet slap of flesh against flesh. His caged cock throbbed, trapped between pain and desperate arousal. He gritted his teeth, gripping the edge of the nightstand until his knuckles turned white. *She’ll pay for this.* Meanwhile, Jo’s mind was blissfully empty of guilt. The driver’s thick fingers filled her, stretching her as he pounded into her from behind, the car seat creaking under their weight. “You take it so fucking well,” he growled, sinking his teeth into her shoulder. She arched back against him, her nails digging into his thigh, lost in the brutal rhythm. The phone lay forgotten, still connected—Lou’s silence a distant echo compared to the heat of the man dominating her now. “Lou who?” the driver taunted, yanking her hair to force her gaze to the rearview mirror. “Look at yourself. *This* is all you need.” And god help her—she believed him.

The driver’s thrusts grew harder, his grip tightening on her hips as he drove deeper. Jo smirked into the mirror, thinking of Lou’s weak protests, his trembling hands—how he’d begged just to *see* her naked before she left. Pathetic. “Tell him,” the driver commanded, his voice rough with exertion. “Tell him what you’d rather have.” She licked her lips, letting out a slow, deliberate moan right into the phone. “Lou… you couldn’t *touch* me like this if you tried.” The words curled with cruel amusement as the driver’s cock slammed into her, hitting that sweet spot that made her gasp. Lou’s choked noise of defeat only made her wetter. She knew the remote was still on max—his torment cranked higher with every filthy sound, every taunt. “Good boy,” the driver murmured—not to her, but to Lou, mocking him through the line. “Listen close. *This* is how a real man fucks your wife.” Jo arched, biting back a cry as pleasure coiled tight. She *owned* Lou now. And this—this was just the beginning.

She couldn't wait to return home used fucked and filled ready to torment the husband she used to look up to

The driver’s release hit hard, his low groan vibrating against Jo’s back as he emptied himself inside her. She shuddered, thighs slick with sweat and his cum, relishing the filthy stretch as he stayed buried deep. His fingers traced the mess between her legs with possessive satisfaction. “Don’t clean up,” he ordered, pulling out with a wet sound and zipping his jeans. “Let him *smell* what you took.” Jo smirked, her fingers dipping between her thighs to gather proof before bringing them to her lips with a sinful suck. The taste was sharp, intoxicating—power laced with salt. The call was still live. Lou’s ragged breathing crackled through the speaker, his cage no doubt straining, his humiliation complete. She leaned into the phone, voice syrupy with false sympathy. “Be a good husband and run me a bath, baby. I’ll need it.” Her tongue flicked over her knuckles, cleaning the last trace. “But leave the water cold—you know I *like it* when you suffer.” The line went dead. She could already picture him scrambling to obey.

Jo stretched lazily in the passenger seat, legs still spread, the sticky heat between her thighs a delicious reminder. The driver’s eyes flicked down, lingering before he smirked and shifted gears. “Still hungry?” His hand slid up her bare thigh, thumb pressing just below her swollen lips. She exhaled sharply, hips tilting into his touch. “Not for you.” Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding him deeper. “But show me what you’d do if I *let* you.” A rough chuckle. He hooked two fingers inside without warning, grinding the heel of his palm against her clit as she gasped. “Lou ever make you come like this? Or was he too busy *asking permission*?” Jo’s nails dug into the leather seat, back arching as pleasure spiked—sharp and relentless. The road blurred. “Fuck—*harder*.” His fingers curled, relentless. “Say it louder. Let him hear the echo.” Through the haze, she realized—he’d redialed. Lou’s broken whimper filled the car as she came, shuddering, slick flooding over the driver’s knuckles. “Missed a spot,” he murmured, lifting his glistening fingers to her mouth. “Clean up. Then we’ll call him back… *after* round two.”

Jo’s fingers tightened around the phone as she held it between them, her lips still wrapped around the driver’s glistening fingers. She pulled back with a slow, deliberate suck, then tapped the screen. "Switch the camera on," she ordered, voice low, husky. "Let him *see* what you turned me into." The driver smirked, fishing his phone from the console with his free hand. With a few taps, the screen flickered to life—Lou's pale, desperate face staring back, his eyes widening as the image sharpened. Jo leaned into frame, her thighs still spread, glistening with sweat and cum. She dragged a fingertip through the mess, then held it up for the camera, her lips curling as Lou shuddered. "Still think I'm *yours*?" The driver's hand clamped on her hip, yanking her back against him. He angled the phone lower, capturing the thick smear of his release dripping down her inner thigh. Lou's choked gasp was the perfect soundtrack as Jo arched, letting the camera catch every filthy detail—her swollen folds, the way she clenched around nothing, the proof of her pleasure painted on her skin. "Watch closely, baby," she purred. "This is what a *real* man feels like." The driver’s free hand slid between her legs again, fingers sliding in easily, stretching her as she moaned. The phone trembled in his grip, but the shot remained clear—Lou’s torment, immortalized in pixels. Jo’s breath hitched as the driver’s thumb pressed hard against her clit. "Now beg him to stop," she taunted, grinding down. "See if he listens."

Lou’s voice cracked through the speaker, ragged and broken. *“Jo—please. Just stop. Come home.”* She threw her head back with a laugh, the driver’s fingers still working her open, fucking her in slow, deliberate strokes. “Hear that?” she taunted, breathless. “He thinks he can *negotiate*.” The driver’s other hand gripped her hip, pulling her down harder onto his fingers. “Tell him why you won’t,” he growled, dragging his teeth along her shoulder. Jo’s thighs trembled as she leaned toward the camera, lips parted, eyes glazed. “Because I *like* it,” she hissed. “Because his soft little hands never fucked me like this.” The driver added a third finger, stretching her, and her moan shuddered through the car. “Because you—*fuck*—you can *hear* how much better he is.” Lou’s whimper was almost drowned out by the slick sounds of the driver’s fingers plunging into her. “Jo—*God*, I’ll do anything—” She cut him off with a sharp gasp as the driver’s thumb circled her clit faster. “Too late,” she panted. “You had your chance.” The phone slipped from the driver’s grip, landing screen-up on the seat, Lou’s anguished face still watching as Jo’s body coiled tight. “Now *watch*.” Her orgasm ripped through her, back arching, nails scraping leather. The driver didn’t let up, fingers fucking her through it, milking every pulse until she slumped against him, breath ragged. The car filled with the sound of Lou’s quiet sobs. Jo reached down, swiping through the mess between her legs, then held her glistening fingers up to the camera. “Still want me to come home?” she murmured. “Or should I show you what’s *next*?”

The driver’s hand slid between her thighs again, smearing her wetness back over her folds. His other hand grabbed the phone, angling it down to capture the swollen, flushed mess of her, glistening under the dim car light. “Tell him what you want next,” he murmured against her ear, fingers teasing her hole but not pushing in yet. Jo’s breath was still uneven, but her voice dripped with venom. “You hear that, Lou? He’s giving you a front-row seat to what you *couldn’t* give me.” She reached back, dragging her nails down the driver’s thigh until she found the hard line of his cock straining against his jeans. “I want *this* inside me. And you get to watch.” Lou’s choked *“No—”* was cut off as the driver unzipped himself, his thick cock springing free against Jo’s ass. She moaned, rubbing against him, coating him in her slick before lining him up. The phone captured every second—the way her body swallowed him inch by inch, the sharp gasp as he bottomed out, the obscene stretch of her around him. “*Fuck*,” the driver groaned, hips snapping forward, making her shudder. “Tell him how much better it is.” Jo’s nails dug into his leg as she rolled her hips, taking him deeper. “So much—*God*—so much *fuller*,” she panted, eyes locked on Lou’s broken expression. “You *wish* it was you.” The driver’s grip on her hip turned bruising, his thrusts rougher now, the wet slap of skin filling the car. Lou’s sobs were the only reply.

Jo was enjoying Lous tears. He pushed her to this and now there was no stopping this hotwife femdom slut

Jo let out a ragged laugh, twisting her hips in time with the driver’s brutal thrusts. “Oh Lou,” she taunted, voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. “Those tears taste so fucking sweet.” She arched back against the driver’s chest, her fingers knotting in his hair as he pounded into her without restraint. The phone lay forgotten—Lou’s muffled pleas drowned out by the filthy sound of flesh slapping flesh. The driver’s hands roamed possessively over her body—one clutching her throat just enough to make her whimper, the other dragging sharp nails down her stomach. “Look at you,” he growled against her ear. “Taking it like you were made for it.” Jo’s head lolled back, mouth open in a silent scream as he angled deeper, hitting a spot Lou never could. Her thighs quivered, slick with sweat and her own arousal, and she reached down to rub tight circles over her clit. “Fuck—*yes*—Lou could *never* fuck me this deep,” she gasped, grinding back onto the driver’s cock with every word. Lou’s voice crackled through the speaker, weak and desperate. “Jo—” She slammed her palm down on the phone, silencing him as she rode the edge of another climax. “You don’t get to speak,” she snarled, body trembling. “You just get to *watch*.” The driver’s free hand slid between them, pressing hard against her clit as he fucked her faster—punishing, relentless. “Come for me again, slut,” he ordered, fingers digging into her skin. “Show him what a real man feels like.” Jo’s orgasm hit like a whip-crack, her scream raw and unfiltered as she clenched around him, soaking his cock. The driver didn’t slow, driving her through it until she slumped forward, panting. She turned her head just enough to smirk at the screen—at Lou’s shattered expression. “Still think you can handle me?” she whispered hoarsely. The driver’s grip tightened, pulling her upright again as he thrust back in, and Jo’s moan was loud enough to drown out anything else. There would be no mercy here. Not for Lou. Not for her. Only the brutal, beautiful wreckage of what they’d once had.

The driver kept Jo pinned against him as he drove, her body still trembling from the aftershocks. His cock remained buried inside her, twitching occasionally as he navigated the quiet streets, his fingers digging into her thigh to keep her from squirming too much. "Keep still," he murmured, voice rough. "Unless you want me to pull over and fuck you against the hood." Jo whimpered, biting her lip at the threat—or promise—her hips giving an involuntary grind. "Maybe I do," she challenged, breathless. He laughed darkly, fingers tightening. "Later." The car rolled to a stop outside her house, but he didn’t let her up. Instead, he dragged her back onto his lap, gripping her hips as he lifted and dropped her onto his cock, filling her in one deep stroke. "One more," he growled. "For the road." Jo gasped, nails clawing at the steering wheel as he fucked up into her, fast and punishing. The wet slap of skin echoed in the confined space, and she could already feel another orgasm building—hot and inevitable. Lou’s forgotten phone lit up with another desperate call. The driver grabbed it, holding it up to Jo’s face as she came, her thighs shaking, her moans raw. "Say goodbye," he ordered, thrusting harder. Jo’s smirk was vicious. "*Goodnight*, Lou." The call ended just as her vision whited out.

Jo barely registered the flicker of movement behind the neighbor’s curtains as the driver hauled her out of the car, his hand fisted in her hair. Her legs wobbled, still weak from being wrecked in the front seat, but he didn’t slow down—just dragged her up the porch steps, her bare thighs sticking to the leather seat of his jeans. The front door slammed behind them, and he shoved her against the wall, his mouth hot and demanding on hers. She tasted herself on his tongue, the salt of her own sweat and arousal, and whimpered when he bit her lip. "Think they saw?" he murmured against her mouth, one hand already undoing his belt. Jo laughed breathlessly, arching into him. "Hope so." He growled, spinning her around to face the window—the neighbors still watching, no doubt—and yanked her hips back, driving into her with a single brutal thrust. Her palms smacked against the glass as he pounded into her, his grip leaving bruises. "Let them see," he snarled, fingers digging into her hips. "Let them all see what a greedy little slut you are." Jo moaned, loud and deliberate, her breasts pressed against the cool pane. The curtains across the street twitched harder.

The neighbor’s door creaked open—Lou’s best friend, Mark, stepping onto his porch with a scowl. His expression twisted from annoyance to disbelief as his gaze landed on Jo’s naked body pressed against the glass, the driver hammering into her from behind. "What the *fuck*?" Mark spat, voice sharp with disgust. Jo tossed a wild glance over her shoulder, biting her lip as the driver’s thrusts never faltered. “Enjoying the show?” she panted, her breath fogging the glass. Mark’s face darkened. “Lou’s gonna hear about this.” The driver laughed, gripping Jo’s hips tighter, slamming her back onto his cock. “Tell him,” he growled. “Tell him how wet she is for me.” Mark recoiled, shaking his head as he retreated inside—but not before Jo let out a shameless moan, loud enough to chase him. The driver’s hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back. “Now,” he snarled, “let’s give them something *real* to talk about.”

Jo grinned, twisting in the driver’s grip just enough to glance back at him through her lashes. “That’s enough for now, baby,” she purred, arching away from the window—but not before giving the neighbors one last deliberate grind against the glass. The driver’s hand flexed on her hip, his cock still buried deep. “You serious?” His voice was rough, edged with frustration. Jo reached behind her, stroking his thigh as she eased herself off him, his shaft glistening with her arousal. “Mmh, you wrecked me good,” she admitted, turning to face him with a slow, teasing lick of her lips. “But I’ve got business to handle.” He scoffed, adjusting himself with a rough tug. “Lou’s gonna lose his damn mind.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his stubbled jaw before slipping past him toward the bedroom. “Let him.” Her fingers trailed along the doorframe, her smirk sharp. “Lock up on your way out.” The driver watched her go, shaking his head as he zipped up—knowing damn well the night wasn’t over for Lou. Not even close.

Jo strode into the bedroom, the fading heat of the driver still humming between her thighs. She didn’t bother turning on the lights—just peeled off the damp thong clinging to her hips and tossed it toward the hamper. The sheets smelled like sweat and sex, but she didn’t care. Lou would be home soon. She sprawled across the bed, fingertips tracing lazy circles over her stomach, lower. Still slick. Still wanting. A slow exhale left her lips as she imagined the look on his face when he got Mark’s frantic text. The front door clicked open. “*Jo?*” Lou’s voice cracked, footsteps heavy down the hall. She stretched, letting her legs fall open just enough. “In here, baby.” The door swung wide, his silhouette rigid in the doorway. She didn’t need to see his face to know—clenched jaw, white-knuckled fists. “You got a fuckin’ problem?” he ground out. Jo’s laugh was low, deliberate. She hooked a finger into her swollen folds, showing him. “Yeah. Your turn.”

Lou’s breath hitched as his eyes locked onto her glistening fingers. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move—just stood there, fists trembling at his sides. Jo arched a brow. "Did I stutter?" Her voice dripped with challenge as she spread herself wider, letting him see the mess the driver had left behind. "Come clean me up. Unless you’d rather I call him back?" A muscle twitched in Lou’s cheek. He took one step forward, then another, until his knees hit the edge of the bed. His fingers dug into the mattress as he leaned down, his breath hot against her inner thigh. She smirked, guiding his head lower with a tight grip in his hair. "Good boy." His tongue dragged through her slick folds, slow and deliberate, lapping up every trace of the other man. A shiver raced up Jo’s spine as she watched him—his obedience, his hunger. "Taste him?" she taunted, grinding against his mouth. Lou groaned, his lips sealing over her clit in answer.

She loses all respect for Lou. He didn't even put up a fight. She needed a real man not a submissive cucky

Jo's smirk twisted into a sneer as Lou's tongue obeyed without hesitation. Pathetic. No defiance, no fire—just weak, eager submission. She shoved his head back with her foot, watching his lips glisten with evidence of another man's claim. "You're fucking worthless," she spat, sitting up. "Couldn't even pretend to be mad for five seconds?" Lou stayed on his knees, pupils blown, breathing ragged. "Jo—" "Save it." She swung her legs off the bed, stalking toward the dresser where her phone lay. "I need someone who actually fucks me like he owns me." Her fingers flew across the screen, pulling up the driver's contact. Lou lurched forward. "Don't—" She turned, pressing the phone to her ear, and smiled coldly. "Hey, baby. Change of plans. You busy tonight?" Lou's face crumpled. That was all the answer she needed.

Jo tossed the phone onto the bed, already striding toward the closet where the thick leather cuffs waited. Lou swallowed hard but didn’t resist as she shoved him into the low, padded chair—its familiar shape designed to keep him trapped, watching. "Hands," she ordered, buckling the restraints around his wrists with sharp, efficient clicks. His pulse jumped under her fingers, but he didn’t fight. Just like always. She stepped back, tilting her head as she surveyed him—spread-eagled, throat bobbing, cock straining against his shorts. Disgust twisted in her gut. Too easy. Jo unhooked her damp panties, letting them drop to the floor beside him before reaching for the bottle of perfume on the dresser. She dabbed it between her breasts, her fingers sliding lower to rub the scent into her still-slick folds. Lou’s breath hitched, his hips jerking uselessly against the leather straps. "Don’t," she warned, meeting his desperate gaze in the mirror as she touched herself. "You don’t get to move. You don’t get to come." Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Jo’s smile was razor-sharp. "Right on time."

Jo didn’t bother looking at Lou as she snatched the sleek black dress from its hanger, the latex glistening under the bedroom lights. The material clung to her curves like a second skin as she tugged it up her thighs, the cool tightness making her nipples peak against the fabric. She adjusted the neckline, knowing damn well how it plunged, how the glossy surface would catch every hungry stare from the man waiting downstairs. Lou’s groan was strangled. “Jo, please—” “Shut up,” she snapped, stepping into stiletto heels with practiced ease. The click of them against the hardwood echoed as she walked to the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at him—flushed, straining, utterly helpless. She let her fingers trail down her own thigh, slow, taunting. “You’re going to watch. And when he’s done with me, you’re going to lick me clean.” His choked whimper followed her out the door.

The heels tapped sharply down the stairs, Jo's hips swaying with each deliberate step. When she swung the door open, it wasn’t the broad-shouldered delivery driver she’d expected—instead, Reverend Hayes stood there in his crisp black clergy shirt, eyes widening briefly before darkening with something far less holy. "Joanna," he rumbled, voice deeper than Sunday sermons. His gaze dragged down her latex-clad body, lingering on the sinful dip of her cleavage. She leaned against the doorframe, letting him stare. "Reverend. Did you come to save my soul?" His lips curled. "Maybe just... *test* it." His hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him before she could react. The thick press of his cock against her thigh made her breath catch—already hard, already claiming. Upstairs, Lou’s muffled whine seeped through the floorboards. Hayes glanced up, then back at Jo, his grip tightening. "Husband’s home?" She smirked. "Watching." His laughter was low, wicked. "Let’s give him a show."

Jo’s fingers tangled in Reverend Hayes’ shirt, pulling him inside as she kicked the door shut with her heel. His hands were already sliding up her thighs, the latex squeaking under his rough grip. “You planned this,” he muttered against her neck, teeth scraping skin. She arched into him, her breath hitching. “And you *let* me.” Upstairs, Lou’s desperate shuffling grew louder. Hayes smirked, sliding a hand between her legs, fingertips pressing just hard enough to make her gasp. “Bet he’s squirming in that cage of his.” Jo bit her lip, grinding against his palm. “Mmm, and you—*fuck*, you’re already thinking about using me in front of him.” Hayes spun her around, yanking the back of her dress down to expose her bare ass. His palm cracked against her skin, sharp and stinging. “Not just thinking.” She moaned, bracing against the wall. “Then do it. Let him see how a *real* man takes what he wants.” Above them, Lou whimpered—helpless, humiliated. Exactly where they wanted him.

Hayes shoved Jo hard against the wall, his thick fingers digging into her hips as he dragged the zipper of her dress down with his teeth. The latex peeled away, baring her skin inch by inch—slow, deliberate, just to hear Lou’s choked noises from upstairs. “You like that, cuck?” Hayes growled over his shoulder, not even bothering to look up. He palmed Jo’s tits, squeezing until her back arched. “Watching your wife get *ruined* by a real cock?” A weak, strangled sound escaped Lou’s throat. Jo laughed breathlessly, rolling her hips back against Hayes’ erection. “He’s *dripping* in his cage,” she taunted. “Pathetic.” Hayes bit her shoulder, hand sliding between her legs. “Gonna make you scream loud enough he *tastes* it.” His fingers worked her ruthlessly, slick and fast, before yanking away just as she bucked against him. “Not yet, slut. You earn it.” Lou’s whimper was almost a sob. Hayes smirked, unbuckling his belt with one hand while fisting Jo’s hair with the other. “Eyes on us, little man.”

Hayes’ grip tightened in Jo’s hair as he teased the head of his cock against her, thick and unrelenting. She gasped, fingers scrambling against the wall. “*Christ*—it’s too—” “Too what?” Hayes taunted, dragging the tip through her slick, making her shudder. “You begged for this. Now take it.” He didn’t give her time to adjust—just shoved forward, splitting her open with a single brutal thrust. Jo’s cry punched through the air, sharp and ragged, her body trembling around the invasion. Upstairs, Lou moaned like he’d been struck. “Fuck, that’s it,” Hayes grunted, pulling out halfway before slamming back in, deeper this time. “Squeezing me like you *mean* it.” Jo panted, nails digging into the plaster as he stretched her to the limit. “God, *yes*—hurts so good—” Hayes chuckled darkly, snapping his hips harder. “Lou’s gonna *feel* this tomorrow.” Another thrust, brutal and perfect. “Every time you walk.” Jo’s scream was pure satisfaction.

Hayes pulled Jo’s head back by her hair, forcing her to meet his gaze as he pounded into her. “Tell me, slut,” he growled between thrusts, each one making her gasp. “What’s your *worst* sin?” Jo’s lips parted, breath hitching as he stretched her impossibly deeper. “Fuck—*wanting this*,” she moaned. “Wanting you to wreck me… while he *watches*.” Hayes laughed, low and dark, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “You’re fucking *filthy*,” he muttered, slamming into her with a snap of his hips that dragged a broken cry from her throat. Lou choked out a sob from above, the sound desperate. “Yeah,” Hayes taunted, not slowing. “Your wife’s a *whore*—and *you* let me have her.” He leaned in, teeth grazing Jo’s ear. “Say it.” Jo shuddered, her body clenching around him. “I’m… your whore,” she gasped. Hayes rewarded her with another punishing thrust. “Lou’s gonna *remember* this.”