**The Prize Dinner (Part 3 – Insomnia)**

The night in the cubbyhole was pure hell.

Chris didn’t sleep a wink. Every time he closed his eyes, his chest tightened like someone had dropped a fucking tombstone on him. A knot squeezed his throat, his breathing turned short and shallow. The lumpy mattress dug its springs into his back, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst was the noise coming from the other side of the hallway.

Pumping sounds. Deep. Rhythmic. Like a diesel engine running full throttle. Adriana’s high-pitched moans rising and falling, turning into hoarse howls. Every slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the silent house.

Suddenly, a hard thud against the wall made Chris bolt upright, heart in his throat. Had they fallen? Was everything okay? Like a clumsy, **** ninja, he got up barefoot and crept down the dark hallway.

The master bedroom door… had a crack. Exactly four centimeters. Someone must have gone to the bathroom and not closed it all the way. The dim glow from the candles still burning filtered through that gap like a forbidden invitation.

Chris froze.

“This is wrong. This is distrusting her. She told me to trust…”

But his cock—steel-hard for hours, throbbing painfully—thought for him.

He edged closer, barely breathing. He knelt. Pressed one eye to the crack.

At first, just shadows. Blurry movement. His hand was already inside his pants, stroking furiously but quietly. His vision adjusted slowly… and when it finally focused, the world crashed down on him.

This wasn’t making love.

This wasn’t even sex.

This was sport. Savage fucking sport.

Adriana was standing, bent forward, arms braced on the floor like she was doing an impossible push-up. Malik was pounding into her from behind with brutal ****, gripping her hips like she was nothing more than an object. Every savage thrust made her whole body jolt. Her tits swung wildly. Her face… Chris had never seen that expression on her before. Eyes rolled back, mouth wide open in a silent scream, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it looked like she might actually break.

Then he flipped her onto her back for missionary.

Malik locked eyes with her, animal intensity burning in his gaze as he lifted one of her legs and hooked it over his chest. Adriana moaned his name like it was a fucking prayer. The thrusts were deeper now, more controlled, more devastating—each one driving in slow and deliberate, making her whole body arch and shudder like she was being rewired from the inside.

Then he made her climb on top. Adriana rode him like a woman possessed, hands planted on his broad chest, hips slamming down with furious rhythm. Her tits bounced wildly with every drop, sweat glistening on her skin, moans turning into sharp, **** cries.

Chris, unable to stop himself, accidentally bumped the door with a small thud.

Adriana’s head snapped around instantly.

Even though the room was almost pitch dark and Chris was shrouded in shadow, she saw him. She knew. And instead of stopping… she kept going. If anything, it made her even hornier… just like it did to me. She shifted slightly toward the crack, giving him a full, obscene view of how her pussy and ass stretched open at the same time around Malik’s thick cock. Her tits bounced wildly as she locked eyes with him through the half-open door.

Malik grabbed her like a rag doll and flipped her onto all fours on the bed. Adriana arched her back hard, letting out a raw, broken moan that turned into a full scream of pleasure. Her ass was high, back dipped low, tits pressed against the sheets as he positioned himself behind her again.

“Come right here, bitch!” Malik said.

“YES! Fuck me like the bitch I am! Show me what a real man feels like!”

She screamed it straight at the crack in the door.

Straight at Chris.

Her eyes were locked on the narrow slit of light where she knew he was kneeling, watching every brutal thrust. Her voice cracked with raw need, but there was something else in it—deliberate, cruel, triumphant. She wasn’t just talking to Malik anymore. She was performing for her husband. For the pathetic shadow behind the door.

Malik growled low, gripping her hips harder, slamming into her with renewed **** as if her words had flipped a switch. Adriana’s back arched even deeper, ass high, tits dragging across the sheets, every word punctuated by the wet slap of skin on skin.

Chris couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

His hand was still wrapped around his aching cock, stroking in frantic, guilty rhythm to the same savage pace that was wrecking his wife on the other side of the door. Tears burned his eyes, shame burned his chest, and yet he couldn’t look away.

She knew he was there.

She wanted him to hear every filthy word.

And she wanted him to know she meant it.

Then he threw her violently to her knees, taking full control of the situation.

“Open your fucking mouth!”

Malik barked the order, gripping her hair tight. Adriana obeyed instantly, tongue out, eyes wide and hungry, staring to his bull, completely forgetting Chris.

He erupted like a geyser.

Thick ropes of cum blasted across her face, splattering her cheeks, dripping down her chin, coating her extended tongue, and running in hot streams over her tits. She moaned through it all, catching as much as she could, swallowing greedily, letting the rest paint her skin in glistening white streaks. Malik kept pumping, milking every last drop onto her, marking her completely.

Adriana stayed on her knees, panting, face and chest drenched, a wicked, satisfied look spreading across her cum-glazed lips as she looked directly at the sliver of darkness where her husband was hidden—where she knew he had seen everything.

When it was over, she rose slowly. Naked, feline, with cum dripping down her cheeks and chest, she walked straight toward the crack in the door.

Chris was still there on his knees, cock in hand, hot semen slick between his fingers, on the verge of passing out.

Adriana reached the door… and didn’t even glance at him. She acted like he didn’t exist. With two fingers she gently pushed the door closed, sealing the four-centimeter gap once more. The latch clicked shut.

Click.

Chris was left alone in the dark hallway, panting, cum sliding between his fingers, tears burning his eyes.

Relief.

Deep, gut-wrenching betrayal.

All at once.

Not a single word. Not a single look. Nothing.

Just the sound of the latch, and minutes later, the low laughter and affectionate whispers that filled the master bedroom again.

Chris crawled back to his cubbyhole, collapsed onto the spring-filled bed, and stared up at the pitch-black ceiling—somehow, in a twisted way, satisfied after cumming countless times that night.

His wife had just fucked like never before in her life… and she hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge he was there.