Path 3 – Rebecca Keagan / The Proposition Route** **Route 3 – Taylor Escalates to After-Hours Home Visits** *(BlacknWhite Continuum – Campus Authority District)* *(Husband’s name: Bill)*

**Path 3 – Rebecca Keagan / The Proposition Route**

Route 3 – Taylor Escalates to After-Hours Home Visits

(BlacknWhite Continuum – Campus Authority District)

(Husband’s name: Bill)

The first home visit happened on a Thursday night, eleven days after Bill learned the truth.

Rebecca was in the kitchen packing lunches for the next day when her phone buzzed.

Taylor:

Kids asleep? Bill home? I’m outside. Open the door.

Her stomach dropped. She glanced toward the living room. Bill was on the couch, laptop open, the low murmur of a game on the television. The children had been down for over an hour. Rebecca wiped her hands, walked to the front door, and opened it.

Taylor stood on the porch in a dark hoodie and jeans, hands in his pockets, smiling like he had every right to be there. Behind him, Darnell leaned against the porch rail.

“Evening, Mrs. K,” Taylor said quietly. “Bill free?”

Rebecca stepped aside. The two men entered like they owned the place. She locked the door behind them and led them into the living room. Bill looked up. His expression didn’t change much—just a slow, steady acceptance that had become familiar since the night he found the cash.

Taylor nodded once. “We need to talk about the schedule. Easier to do it here than keep dragging her across town every week. And the fans keep asking for ‘home’ content. Figured we’d start light.”

Bill closed the laptop. “How light?”

Taylor’s smile widened. “She stays quiet. Kids don’t wake up. You can watch or join. Cameras stay off tonight if you want. Or on. Your call.”

Bill looked at Rebecca for a long moment. She stood in the kitchen doorway, pulse already climbing, the familiar heat pooling low in her belly despite the risk.

“Cameras off,” Bill said. “This time.”

Taylor shrugged. “Fair enough.”

He didn’t wait for further discussion. He walked over to Rebecca, turned her around, and bent her forward over the kitchen island. The same island where she packed the children’s lunches every morning. His hands pulled her sleep shorts and panties down in one motion. The cool air hit her bare ass. Darnell moved to the side, already freeing his cock.

Taylor pushed into her in one smooth, practiced stroke. Rebecca bit her lip hard to stay silent. The thick stretch was immediate and familiar. He set a steady, deep rhythm, the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of her the only noise in the kitchen besides the soft creak of the island under her hands.

Slap… slap… slap… slap…

Bill watched from the couch for a full minute before standing and walking closer. He stopped beside Darnell, eyes locked on the place where Taylor disappeared into his wife. Rebecca’s heavy breasts swayed with every thrust, nipples already tight against the thin fabric of her tank top.

Taylor reached forward, grabbed a handful of her hair, and pulled her head up just enough so she had to look at Bill.

“Tell him how it feels,” he said, voice low.

Rebecca’s voice was shaky. “It’s… thick. He’s all the way in. I can feel him in my stomach.”

Bill’s cock was hard inside his sweatpants. He stepped closer, pulled himself out, and pressed the head against Rebecca’s lips. She opened automatically, taking her husband into her mouth while Taylor fucked her from behind. The dual sensation made her knees weak. She braced harder against the island and pushed back to meet every thrust.

Darnell waited only a few minutes before tapping Taylor’s shoulder. They switched without speaking. Darnell’s cock was thicker; the fresh stretch dragged a muffled moan out of Rebecca around Bill’s cock. Taylor moved to the side, stroking himself while he watched Darnell’s dark shaft sink into her again and again.

They kept her there—bent over her own kitchen island—for nearly forty minutes. The men rotated between her pussy and her mouth. Bill stayed mostly quiet, fucking her throat with slow, deep strokes whenever one of the others pulled out. Cum eventually streaked her thighs, dripped onto the kitchen floor, and painted the back of her throat. When Taylor finally finished inside her, he held himself there, grinding slowly, until every pulse had emptied.

Darnell followed a minute later, pulling out at the last second and painting thick ropes across both cheeks of her ass. Bill was the last. He turned her around, lifted her onto the edge of the island, and sank into her cum-slick pussy with a low groan. Rebecca wrapped her legs around him and buried her face in his neck to stay quiet while he fucked her through one final orgasm.

When it was over, the kitchen smelled of sex. Rebecca stayed seated on the island, legs still open, cum leaking onto the clean countertop. Taylor wiped his cock with a paper towel, tossed the towel in the trash, and looked at Bill.

“This works better,” he said. “Less driving. Kids stay asleep. You get to see everything. We’ll do it again next week—longer. Maybe bring the cameras if you’re ready.”

Bill was still catching his breath, one hand resting on Rebecca’s bare thigh. He nodded once.

“Next week.”

Taylor and Darnell left the same way they had arrived—quietly, like they had only stopped by to return a tool. Rebecca cleaned the island, the floor, and herself in the hall bathroom while Bill locked the door and turned off the lights. When she came to bed he was already under the covers. He pulled her against him, still sticky, still open, and held her without speaking.

The first home visit was over.

The boundary of the Keagan household had been permanently crossed.

The following Thursday

Taylor texted at 9:17 p.m.

Kids down? Coming in twenty. Bringing the camera this time. Bill’s choice if he wants to be on it or not.

Rebecca showed Bill the message. He read it, set his jaw, and nodded.

“Let him film. I stay off camera.”

Taylor and Darnell arrived with a third man Rebecca hadn’t met before—tall, lean, quiet. They set up a single camera on a tripod in the living room, angled so the children’s bedrooms upstairs stayed completely out of frame. Rebecca was stripped, bent over the back of the couch, and taken in full view of the lens while Bill sat in the armchair and watched.

The session lasted almost two hours.

They used every surface on the first floor that could support her weight: the couch, the coffee table, the dining table, the kitchen island again. They fucked her mouth, her pussy, and her ass in rotating combinations. The camera captured every wet slap, every muffled cry she tried to keep quiet, every load that landed on her skin or was pumped inside her. Bill never joined the frame, but he never looked away either. When the men finally finished, Rebecca lay on her back on the living-room carpet, chest heaving, body marked and leaking, while Taylor reviewed the footage and counted out the night’s payment in front of her husband.

“Same time next week,” Taylor said as he packed the camera. “Longer. Maybe we start earlier—after the kids are in bed but before you’re too tired. Fans are gonna lose it over the house content.”

Bill walked them to the door. When it closed and locked, he turned back to Rebecca still lying on the floor. Without a word he stripped, knelt between her thighs, and pushed into her well-used pussy. She was slick with other men. The knowledge no longer seemed to stop him. He fucked her slowly, deeply, until he came with a quiet groan and collapsed over her.

Rebecca stared at the ceiling, feeling the fresh heat of her husband’s release mixing with everything else still inside her, and understood that the home visits were no longer an escalation.

They were the new normal.

Branch choices now available:

1. The next home visit – longer session, cameras on, Bill participating more directly.

2. Daytime risk – Taylor stops by while the children are at school and Bill is at work.

3. Judy is brought into a home session.

4. The young applicant from Taylor’s Crib.com is introduced into the home-visit dynamic.

Tell me which branch you want expanded next.