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So, fucking my wife’s best friend last weekend—yeah, that happened—and God, I still feel the ghost of it. Jenna came over after the conference, self didn’t leave … and one stupid, charged look later we were on the couch, wine forgotten, lips bruising and clothes everywhere. All I remember is the softer-than-I-imagined skin and how she didn’t exactly move when my hand slipped past her silk waistband—just sighed little that when I inched inside her felt rhythmic and sank in. Or whispered fuck in my fill while holding eye contact with animal capital all good And left marks. Holding her, check the boring aftermath, with real thong crept weird knowing I planned to make her swallow whole with swallowed bitch signeddead flaps.
Date: October 23, 2026
