Coming Home

Sam was still sitting on the edge of the bed when he heard the apartment door open. His heart immediately started racing. He still had his phone in his hand, the photos open, and the bitter aftertaste of the call lingering in his throat. He was wearing only a pair of old, unflattering grey underwear, stained with dried cum from the several times he had already finished that afternoon. The fabric clung to his skin and clearly outlined his erection, which was still hard and treacherous, though it now looked ridiculously small to him.

Stacy walked in calmly. She was wearing the robe, her hair slightly messy, and her lips visibly swollen. She smelled of sex. Of saliva. Of something that wasn’t Sam. Of Victor.

“Hi, honey,” she said with a soft smile. “I’m done.”

Sam stared at her, unable to speak. Stacy came closer and sat down beside him. She ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re very tense…” she whispered. “Is everything okay?”

Sam swallowed hard. His voice came out broken:

“Stacy… what happened downstairs… the photos… the call… I saw you on your knees. I saw you with… that in your mouth.”

Stacy looked at him with an expression somewhere between surprised and amused, almost condescending. She stroked his cheek tenderly, as if speaking to a frightened child.

“Oh, Sam…” she said with a soft, slightly mocking smile. “Did you really think it was… that? Nowadays toys are incredibly realistic. Some are made of medical silicone, with veins, texture, even flavor… and yes, some even ‘spit’ liquid to make them look more real. The app filters exaggerate everything too. Your brain is playing tricks on you, love.”

Sam opened his mouth, but she continued:

“Besides… do you really think I would do something like that for real? With your uncle? Please. I was just working. Posing. Like always. You get so dramatic about these things.”

She gave him a short kiss on the lips. A kiss that tasted slightly salty and bitter.

“Shhh… We already talked on the phone. It wasn’t anything serious. Just work. You’ve gotten yourself too worked up, haven’t you? And don’t tell me you didn’t touch yourself looking at the photos… little bird told me.”

Sam pulled back a little, looking into her eyes.

“It wasn’t just a toy. I saw… the shape, the thickness…”

Stacy held his gaze. For a moment her expression changed. She leaned in slightly, looked him straight in the eyes, and spoke in a low, almost intimate voice:

“What happened is what had to happen…”

She paused. Her eyes darkened with something new, something dirty and aroused. The smile that formed on her swollen lips was that of a witch who was remembering something she had enjoyed far too much.

“What is it you want me to tell you, Sam? What’s this new fetish of yours? Would you like me to tell you the truth that you dream, uh? That your uncle’s cock is huge… thick, heavy, full of veins… and that he shoved it all the way down my throat? That he fucked my mouth like I was just some cheap whore while I looked at the camera imagining you were watching me? That I choked, that tears were running down my face, that I was drooling all over his cock and still couldn’t stop sucking? That when he came he made me swallow every last drop… and that I loved it? That I came too just from feeling him use me? That this was my first real blowjob… and I didn’t give it to you, but to your uncle?”

While she spoke, her face transformed. Her eyes half-closed, her lips parted, and an expression of pure lust took over her. She was getting turned on just from remembering it and telling it to Sam.

Then, suddenly, she stopped cold.

The slutty expression vanished as if it had never existed. Her face returned to the calm indifference from before. She looked at him firmly again, her eyes cold and controlled.

“Is that what you would have liked to have happened?”

She paused briefly.

“Well, no.”

She stood up naturally, as if she hadn’t said anything unusual.

“I’m going to take a shower. I smell like the studio.”

---

When she came out of the bathroom, she was wearing only one of Sam’s long t-shirts. She got into bed beside him, curled up against his chest, and sighed.

“I’m tired… but happy. We earned really well today.”

Sam couldn’t stop looking at her. He wanted to shout. He wanted to demand the truth. But the words stuck in his throat.

Before he could speak, Stacy sat up a little.

“Oh, I almost forgot… Uncle Victor is coming up for dinner with us tonight. He asked me. He says he wants to get to know us better… as a family.”

Sam froze.

“What…?”

Stacy gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t make that face, love. It’s just dinner. Besides… after everything he’s done for us, it’s the least we can do, right? And don’t worry… nothing weird is going to happen. You already saw that today it was just toys.”

She curled up against his chest again, closing her eyes.

“I love you, Sam. I really do.”

Sam stayed staring at the ceiling, his arm around his wife, feeling the warmth of her body… and the crushing weight of the news.

Downstairs, Victor was smiling.