The message came unexpectedly. Just six words: "Come now--before your fantasy ends."
No name, no context, but I knew exactly what it meant.
I was already halfway to her place, heart pounding, palms sweaty on the wheel. We'd talked about it--late at night, limbs tangled, breaths shallow--how the idea made something primal rise in both of us. But fantasies were just that. Weren't they?
The front door was ajar. That alone made something shift in my chest. I pushed it open slowly, the sound of soft moans growing louder with each step. The warm scent of sex was thick in the air, unmistakable and magnetic.
And then I saw them.
She was on her knees, naked, her skin flushed and glowing. Her lips were wrapped around him like it was instinct. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine--not in shock, not in guilt, but invitation. The man standing in front of her barely looked my way, his hands gripping her hair as his body tensed. She reached up and held his thighs steady, her face turned slightly, angling to let it happen.
And then it did.
He groaned deep, his body jerking forward as he released onto her beautiful face. It landed across her cheeks, her lips, a little on her chest. She closed her eyes and smiled faintly, like she was savoring something intimate and forbidden.
She held there a moment, frozen in the heat of the act, then reached a hand toward me. I crossed the room slowly, every step thick with disbelief and arousal. When I reached her, she looked up, glistening and gorgeous, and whispered, "This was for you."
