Look down and realize Jessica isn't stroking your cock anymore, but you are

You looked down. Your own hand was wrapped around your shaft, your fingers clutching the damp crimson fabric. Jessica's hand was resting gently on your wrist, not stroking, but guiding, encouraging. She wasn't forcing you. She was simply enabling your own self-destruction.

The shock of it, the realization that you were an active, willing participant in your own debasement, was a tidal wave of shame. But it didn't stop you. Your hips began to jerk, thrusting into your own fist, chasing a release that felt both like a salvation and a final surrender.

Jessica leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear. "That's it," she whispered, her voice a silken poison. "Show her. Show Amy how much you love this. Show her how much you love watching her get fucked by a real man."

On the bed, the tempo increased. Jacob sat up, his arms wrapping around Amy's waist, pulling her close as he pounded up into her. Her moans were now a constant, incoherent stream of pleasure. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Harder!"

You couldn't look away. Your eyes were locked on the place where their bodies joined, on the sight of Jacob's massive, glistening cock disappearing into your girlfriend's tight, pink hole over and over again.

The pressure in your own balls was building to an unbearable peak. Your strokes became frantic, desperate. The world narrowed to this single, horrifying moment. The sight of her being claimed, the sound of her pleasure, the feel of the wet silk in your hand, and Jessica's venomous whispers in your ear.

"Come for me," Jacob growled, his voice thick with exertion. "Come all over my cock. Show your little boyfriend what a real orgasm looks like."

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