Author's Note: I appreciate critical reviews--both positive and negative--that relate to the specifics of the story. It's how we learn and grow. However, I'll add this caveat: Let's agree on something--I write what I like, and you read what you like. That way, we're both good. Yeah?
Trigger Warnings: Blackmail, Reluctance, Asian Wife, Hot Wife, Young Wife/Older Man, Coercion, Conflicted, Sharing, WMAF
Obligatory Disclaimer: All characters in a sexual situation are over the age of 18.
©2025 Verisimilinude
Late Night Lament
The house was dark when Vanessa pulled into the driveway, her car's headlights briefly bounced off the familiar white brick exterior before she cut them off. She coasted the rest of the way and shut the engine off as well. Gripping the steering wheel, she bumped her head against it several times as she sat there, trying to hold back the tears.
What had she done and more importantly how was she going to get herself out of this mess? She couldn't possibly let it continue. But if she didn't Dave threatened to expose her slip-up. If she came clean, maybe Marc would forgive her, but would he still want her? 'Fuck how did my life get so tangled?' she lamented internally.
It was supposed to be a fun shoot, something different, the end result a special surprise for Marc. Now it haunted her, a secret she had to keep. Vanessa couldn't make sense of it--she was the reserved one, never acting on impulse. This raw, mindless arousal wasn't like her. Yes, she had a strong sex drive but how had she crossed the line from devoted wife to...this? Someone who could betray her vows so easily--to a...cock sucking slut! Dave's words taunted her even now.
Something was seriously off about the whole situation. She could think clearly now, her mind uncluttered, but her body still buzzed with frenetic energy. No matter how much she had rinsed her mouth, she could still taste his cum--bleachy but with stronger notes of something fruity. She thought she hated it, she didn't even let Marc cum in her mouth. Why had she let Dave? What was this power he had over her, what had compelled her to give in?
She didn't like that he'd given her no choice but to swallow it. 'You weren't hating it when he was choking you with his cock,' her mind whispered to her. Her mouth watered without conscious thought, he'd filled her mouth with it, so much she couldn't even keep up with swallowing it down.
The way he had directed her head, using it for his pleasure, stuffing her with that hard, hot shaft. The way the crown of his cock rubbed against the roof of her mouth, how it had choked her, trying to gain entrance to her throat. "Mmm," she murmured and then said out loud, "Damn it, why did it have to feel so good?"
Her phone broke her concentration, its flashing light showing missed texts. Guilt settled in her stomach again, washing away the remnant lust. She checked the phone and saw Marc's texts. Fuck.
Marc>(6:34 PM): Headed home, see you soon.<
Marc>(8:31 PM): Babe? You okay?<
Marc>(12:30 AM): Guess you're really busy. Wake me when you get home.<
Vanessa exhaled a slow breath. She should have checked her phone. Should have at least sent a quick message. But how could she have explained it in the moment? "Hey, I'm at a photoshoot with a guy I just met, can't talk right now. He's currently stuffing my mouth with his large cock." 'And I hate myself for it, but I liked it,' added the dark whispers.
Wiping tears from her cheek, Vanessa checked her appearance before stepping out of the car. She locked it manually, not wanting to alert Marc if he was awake and crept inside the house as quietly as she could. The faint glow from the living room TV flickered, but the house was still.
Vanessa instinctively smiled when she saw him. Marc had fallen asleep on the couch again, controller loose in his hand, the game's menu screen looping in front of him. Vanessa felt her heart crushing as it squeezed tightly in her chest. This was their life. Comfortable. Predictable. Safe. And for so long, it had been enough.
As miserable as she felt right now, she knew something had awakened in her tonight. Guilt and shame rested right next to the thrill of doing something she shouldn't have. Sure she'd fantasized some when Marc started having his troubles remaining erect, but she'd never meant to go any further. But now it had and she had to find a path forward. The way Dave looked at her, told her how hot she was, the photos evidence of how sexy she felt, it was electric--it was intoxicating. And it scared the living shit out of her.
Vanessa reached for the throw blanket draped over the couch and lovingly laid it over him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Marc stirred but didn't wake.
'Let him dream of a pure wife for now,' she thought, the moment bittersweet. Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, memorizing the curve she still loved so dearly. 'Somehow, I'll fix this. I just hope you'll forgive me if you ever find out.' But not tonight. Tonight demanded hot water and the forgetfulness of oblivion--the kind only sleep would provide.
The Weekend After
Marc woke to the smell of coffee and the familiar weight of Vanessa curled up beside him on the sofa. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he blinked against the morning light filtering through the living room curtains. "Morning," he murmured with a smile. "What's this?" he asked, gesturing toward the mug of coffee she offered.
Vanessa smiled back at him. "Me spoiling you," she said, tugging at his T-shirt and wiping the corner of his mouth. "You had a little drool there. Were you having naughty dreams about me?" she teased, chuckling as she snuggled into his chest.
Marc could smell the scent of shampoo in her dark shoulder length hair, he smiled, rubbing lazily up and down her back. "Why am I on the couch?"
She nuzzled closer, her petite and supple form molding to Marc's body, basking in the familiar warmth of him. It was easy, slipping back into their routine, how comfortable it felt. "I don't know. I found you passed out when I got home."
The comfortable silence fractured when Marc's hand stilled on her back. She could feel his gaze on her before he spoke, "So... where were you last night? I tried texting?"
Vanessa's breath caught in her throat. Just like that, the dream of comfort was shattered by her nightmare. She pressed her head into his shoulder, buying seconds before answering. The lie came smoothly--rehearsed in the bathroom mirror this morning, polished by guilt. "I'm so sorry. Work crisis. I completely lost track of time."
Marc tilted her chin up. His eyes--still trusting, damn him--searched hers for a beat too long before he nodded. "I was worried," he said, his lips brushing against hers. "Let me know next time, okay?"
Vanessa kissed him back and gave him a practiced smile, "Of course. Go shower," she said, already sliding from the sofa. "I'll make your favorite omelet." She hoped the sounds of cooking would drown out the voice in her head shouting: LIAR.
She winced at the voice, lying didn't come naturally to her, but what choice did she have. 'Sorry honey, I was busy letting a strange cock cum in my mouth and I don't know why I let it happen. You forgive me right?' What the fuck was she going to do? She felt utterly powerless in this new situation.
With rest and a clearer mind, she felt better about things. "Better" wasn't quite right; she still felt awful about what had happened. But she was more prepared now--she just needed time to think and plan a way to get out from under this--find a way forward.
She stood near the stovetop, her hands set about making his omelet and frying some bacon. Vanessa did her best to channel her guilt into fixing Marc a nice breakfast, some gesture to make amends.
Just when she thought she'd achieved control of her thoughts, they burst free again. Last night's events replayed in her head, on a loop she couldn't escape, each frame sharper and more vivid than the last. Dave's smirk, the taste of him on her tongue, the way he had filled her mouth with his cock--it all seemed surreal--like a depraved nightmare she couldn't wake from. No matter how tightly she clenched her fists, the reel kept playing, every shameful detail etched in perfect, punishing clarity.
Yet, in the harsh light of day, there was no denying the way her body had responded, the way she'd craved his domination, his masculinity--even as her imprisoned mind warned her not to.
The shower's sudden silence made her spine straighten. Marc would be down soon--expecting his usual morning, his usual wife. She needed to appear normal, unshakable. The thought of him made her chest tighten. The man who trusted her completely. How had she been so heartless, betraying him like that? How could she have let Dave manipulate her into such an act, something she rarely let Marc do?
The guilt gnawed at her, but beneath it, there was something else, the memory of it clung to her like sweat. That was the worst part; beneath the self-loathing was a twisted thrill she couldn't ignore. It made her feel sick to contemplate, but it was there, lurking in the shadows of her conscience.
She finished the omelet and plated it alongside the bacon and toast, her movements may have seemed precise but her mind was laboring at solutions. She poured a glass of orange juice, the kind without pulp, the way Marc liked it. As she set the table, she told herself to remain cool and collected. Everything's fine. Just another morning.
But how could it be fine? Dave had the video, proof of her infidelity. He'd made it clear he wouldn't hesitate to show it to Marc if she didn't do what he asked.
"Smells amazing," Marc said, appearing in the kitchen entrance, his dark hair still damp from the shower, a lazy smile playing on his lips. Vanessa pushed down the knot of anxiety and smiled back. He kissed her cheek, his warmth comforting against her skin. For a moment, a flicker of hope stirred--maybe she could tell him everything. Maybe he'd understand...
Then she remembered the words she spoke while stroking Dave's cock.
Instead, she murmured, "Thanks," avoiding his gaze as she handed him his orange juice and took her seat across from him. The weight of her secret pressed heavily on her slumped shoulders.
Marc dug into his breakfast, humming softly--oblivious to the storm brewing inside his wife. "Hey, remember when we first moved in? That first breakfast, and you told me you couldn't boil water to save your life?" He chuckled, glancing up at her. "This is amazing boiled water," lifting the fork full of omelet into his mouth.
"Thank you for cooking this morning," Marc said. They often shared domestic chores, it didn't hurt to show her how much he appreciated her.
She looked up at his question, and a genuine smile touched her lips at the fond memory. Everything had felt so exciting back then--the newness of their life together, the little milestones of being newlyweds. She watched him now, memorizing the way his lips curved around his fork, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. How could she have been so reckless? How could she let someone like Dave threaten this?
