A rhythmic mix of grunts and moans filled the air—"slap… slap… ah… slap… ah… slap… slap… ah… ah…"—growing faster as Tyson picked up the pace. Kimmi's excitement surged, her moans shifting from hushed to unrestrained. She seemed to completely forget I was "passed out" downstairs. Her voice turned sultry, her deepest desires unleashed, lost in pleasure. The shy, gentle Kimmi was gone, replaced by a woman fully surrendered to her urges.
Suddenly, her moans cut off, replaced by muffled "mm… slurp… mm" sounds—her mouth was clearly wrapped around a cock. The relentless slap, slap, slap of their bodies didn't stop, meaning both her holes were occupied. The scene had spiraled into pure debauchery. Her body, driven by lust, moved in sync with them, even letting out soft hums like she was savoring it. But thinking back to her "first" blowjob by the pool earlier, something clicked—her technique didn't feel like a first. Not that she was a pro, but she wasn't clueless either. Had she already done this with Alex? Did he finish in her mouth? Did she swallow?
As my mind toggled between fantasy and reality, about five minutes later, Alex shouted, "Take it all, keep every drop in your mouth… open wide, look at the camera. Good, huh? Tonight, you'll get your fill—swallow it all!"
Kimmi coughed, "Cough… cough…"
Alex taunted, "Not used to it? First time swallowing? Don't worry, after tonight, you'll be a pro."
But Kimmi snapped to attention, realizing they'd set up a camera, recording everything.
Tyson hushed her, "Don't worry, it's just for us. We won't show your boyfriend."
Kimmi, panicked, pleaded, "I'll do anything you want, but please, don't let him know. I can't lose him."
Tyson's veiled threat brought me crashing back into her mind. Guilt flooded her, freezing her for a moment as she wrestled with her conscience. She went silent, head bowed, like she was dodging her own shame. Images of my love and trust flickered in her head, almost making her stop. But that hesitation didn't last. From the moment Alex came in her mouth to when she swallowed, Tyson had slowed down, but now he ramped up again. The slap, slap sounds and Kimmi's moans returned, her guilt drowned out by overwhelming pleasure. She knew she couldn't undo anything now—her body was winning.
I don't know how long it went on, but Kimmi's body started responding on its own, her moans laced with reckless excitement. She'd occasionally protest—"No, don't"—or try to twist away, but the intense sensations yanked her back. Sometimes her voice would pause, like she'd remembered me, guilt flashing in her eyes with a hint of pain. But Tyson's relentless thrusts pulled her back into the moment, trapping her in ecstasy until he roared, clearly finishing inside her. Knowing they'd calm down soon, I tiptoed back to the first floor.
It was 2 or 3 a.m. I collapsed on the couch, replaying everything, my mind spinning with a thousand possibilities. They didn't come downstairs, and as the house fell silent, I thought of Kimmi's face, her gentleness, our memories. I knew I couldn't leave her. And—God help me—thinking about what happened made me rock hard. I had to admit, I liked this feeling. So, I decided to stay with Kimmi, as long as she still loved me. The rest? I'd figure out later. With that, I relaxed, and sleep hit me hard. I passed out.
At 6 a.m., I stirred, still a bit hungover. The living room and garden were empty. I crept upstairs to the master bedroom—no one. But the bed had a dried, white stain, a mix of their cum and Kimmi's fluids. In the master bathroom, unused since we arrived, the showerhead was in the tub, and towels, once neatly stacked, were now hanging, clearly used. Kimmi's handbag and makeup from the counter were gone. She'd left consciously, not dragged away.
Back downstairs, I knew confronting Alex next door about Kimmi's whereabouts would end in a breakup. So, I resolved to watch how this played out. Exhaustion hit again, and after fighting it, I passed out.
I woke at 10 a.m. to find Kimmi curled up beside me, the house tidied up. I nudged her gently. Half-awake, she mumbled, "Drunkard, you were out cold all night, ignoring me! I couldn't move you, so I just slept here. I'm exhausted. Let's just stay here."
I kissed her forehead softly. "Babe, you were tired last night. Get some rest." But inside, a storm of emotions churned—heartache, love, and a twisted thrill I couldn't name.