Yes!!

The TV flickered in the dim light — frozen on a paused porn clip of a woman on her knees, glazed and smiling, strands of cum sliding down her cheeks and neck. The room smelled of scented oil and faint wine.

Andy sat back on the couch, shirtless, thighs slightly spread.

He didn’t hear her enter — not until her heels clicked softly on the floor.

Sandra stepped into view.

And he froze.

She was dressed to be ruined.

Her body was sheathed in jet-black lace — a barely-there bra that left the underside of her full, heavy breasts exposed, and high-cut panties that seemed designed to frame her curves rather than hide anything. A single drop of sweat glistened between her cleavage, illuminated by the glow of the TV.

Her lips were a rich, smeared berry-red. Her eyes lined dark and sharp. Her hair was pinned high — intentionally exposing the CUMSLUT choker tight around her throat.

In one hand: a half-filled glass of wine.

In the other: the remote.

She hit play.

The porn resumed — a woman moaning, glazed and dripping, gagging as a man pulled out and painted her tits.

Sandra walked over slowly. Knelt between Andy’s legs. Set the wine down.

“You’ve watched every one of these,” she whispered. “Again and again.”

“What is it about them, hmm?”

“Is it the helpless look in her eyes? The mess on her face? The way her mouth stays open like she’s begging for more?”

She ran her hands up his thighs, nails dragging lightly.

“You fantasize about doing this to me, don’t you?”

Andy nodded slowly.

She smiled.

“Good.”

“Because I’m ready.”

Andy’s breath caught the moment she wrapped her tits around his cock.

Soft. Heavy. Warm. Squeezed together with a practiced grip, her dark nipples pressing into his shaft through the lace.

Sandra looked up at him — lips parted, eyes glowing, the choker at her neck shining like a brand.

“You’ve dreamed of this, haven’t you?” she whispered.

“Your sweet little wife with her tits wrapped around your cock… begging for your cum…”

She slid them up and down — slow, controlled strokes — the friction building as her spit and his pre-cum slicked her skin.

“I used to blush when you kissed me in public,” she smirked. “Now I want to get fucked in the backseat of every cab.”

Andy groaned, hips jerking reflexively.

“Fuck… Sandra…”

She lifted slightly — then leaned in.

And took him into her mouth.

Deep.

“Mmm…”

Her moan vibrated through his cock as her tongue curled and licked along the underside. Her throat flexed around him — pushing deeper — gagging gently as her nose buried into his skin.

Andy’s hands shot into her hair, gripping tight.

“Good girl…” he growled.

“Take it… deeper… show me what kind of slut you’re becoming…”

She moaned again — a wet, raw sound — cheeks hollowing as she sucked him hard.

Spit ran freely down her chin, stringing from his cock to her lips as she pulled back — only to look up at him with that same fucking fire.

Then she spat.

Slowly.

Thick.

A fat glob of saliva landed right on his shaft, sliding down slick over his skin.

“All those porn videos of yours…” she murmured.

“I paid attention. You like it messy, don’t you?”

She licked the trail clean, tongue broad and hungry, moaning as she tasted him.

“Fuck yes,” Andy grunted. “Look at you…”

She went down again — deeper, sloppier, louder — the kind of blowjob that echoed through the room. The kind that rewrote memories.

“Your cock tastes divine…” she whispered between licks.

Then she pressed her breasts against him again, using them to smear spit and pre-cum across her tits like lotion.

“And your seed… I want to taste it…”

“I want to wear it…”

Andy could barely think. His thighs tensed, balls drawn up tight.

Sandra gripped him — stroked fast — her lips brushing the head every few strokes, teasing him on the edge.

“Cum for me…” she begged.

“Cover me… drown me in it… make me your filthy little cumslut…”

His breath broke.

She opened her mouth wide, tilted her face up, and whispered:

“Paint me.”

The room glowed in flashes from the TV — hard cuts of moaning, facials, glazed eyes — loud wet sounds echoing from the speakers.

On screen, a girl was getting painted. Wide-eyed. Drenched.

Sandra turned her head slightly, watching the moment just as Andy's cock pulsed in her hand.

“Look…” she whispered. “That’s what you love.”

Then she turned back to him — face tilted, mouth open, tongue out — and added:

“Now watch your own cumslut.”

Andy lost it.

The first blast hit her cheek — thick and white — followed immediately by a second shot across her lips, cutting through the center of her lipstick.

“Mmm…” she moaned — mouth wide — welcoming more.

He grunted as he jerked hard, painting her across both eyes, her forehead, her chin. It spattered her chest, smeared the lace, filled the valley between her tits.

“F-fuck… fuck, Sandra…”

She never flinched. Let every drop hit her. Embraced it.

Her face was wrecked — glossy and gleaming, cum sliding in rivulets down her throat and between her tits. Mascara ran in streaks. Her mouth stayed open.

Perfect.

Andy knelt beside her, breathing hard, cock still twitching.

He reached out — smearing the mess across her lips with his thumb — slow, possessive.

“Look at you…” he growled.

“You’re my sweet, cum-drenched masterpiece”

He scooped a thick glob from her cheek and fed it to her. She swallowed instantly, licking his finger clean.

“Mmm… better than I imagined…” she moaned. “I want more…”

She reached down — fingers gliding across her cum-glazed breasts, her slick thighs, her chin — gathering everything she could.

Then, one by one, she licked them clean.

“So good…”

Still kneeling, she leaned back on her heels, letting the mess drip lower.

Warm trails of cum rolled across her soft belly, between her thighs, toward her pussy.

She waited. Let it flow.

Then reached down… dipped her fingers into her folds — sticky, soaked — and lifted the creamy blend to her lips.

She opened her mouth wide.

Her tongue rolled out — coated in the thick mix of his cum and her own slick arousal.

She swallowed it.

Deliberately. Loudly.

“Mmm… your cum… and me… I love how we taste together…”

She gave a final swirl of her tongue, licked her fingers, and smiled up at him.

“Some more… please…”

Andy’s cock was still hard.

Twitching.

She looked wrecked.

Utterly, exquisitely wrecked.

Sandra knelt on the living room floor, body heaving with every breath, a living canvas of Andy’s lust. Her hair was tangled and wet, strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. Dark streaks of mascara bled down beneath glassy, half-lidded eyes, and her deep red lipstick had all but vanished beneath the layers of cum painting her face.

Her skin glowed — slick with sheen, her neck and collarbones spattered in thick, milky trails. Her tits were soaked, a pool of cum glistening in the crease of her cleavage, slowly sliding down over her belly, catching on the swell of her hips, then lower… between her trembling thighs.

Her mouth stayed open — jaw slack with exhaustion and lust — tongue flicking out instinctively to catch a stray drip from her chin.

The TV was still playing in the background — a hard, brutal gangbang — facials flying, women groaning, cocks pumping — the audio echoing through the room like a soundtrack to her new self.

She didn’t flinch.

She smiled.

And looked up at Andy.

“Still hard?” she purred, voice hoarse, lips swollen.

“You’re such a filthy man… but look what you’ve done to your wife.”

She reached for his cock again — already twitching.

“Your innocent little Sandra... now ruined. Drenched. Craving more.”

Andy’s cock throbbed.

Sandra laughed — warm, dark, breathless.

“You want to fuck me like this, don’t you?”

“While your cum is still sliding down my pussy… while I still taste you on my tongue…”

She leaned in, dragging her cheek across his shaft — smearing more of his mess across her skin — then whispered:

“So fuck me, Andy.”

“Fuck your cumslut raw.”

Andy didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

He reached down, gripped her under the arms, and lifted her dripping body into his arms like she weighed nothing. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively — cum squishing between them, streaking his thighs and her inner lips as he walked her over to the couch.

He sat down hard — she landed in his lap — and his cock found her entrance without a word.

She was soaked.

Slick from arousal and the leftover mess from his faceful offering.

He slammed into her.

“FUCK—” she gasped, eyes wide.

No warning. No prep.

Just hot, hard, wet, raw penetration.

She cried out, nails raking across his back.

“Yes… yes… fuck me like that…”

“God… you’re perfect. Even better than my folders. And I used to categorize those clips by facial angle.”

Andy was in a trance — thrusting hard, fast, unforgiving — the sound of their bodies slapping wetly echoing alongside the porn still playing on the screen behind them.

“You feel this, Sandra?” he growled.

“This is how I fuck my cumslut wife.”

“I’m going to keep stuffing you until you can’t tell what’s cum and what’s you.”

She moaned louder, back arching, tits bouncing with every stroke.

“You’re still inside me…” she whispered.

“Your load… it’s still dripping down while you fuck more into me…”

He grabbed her throat, not tight, but firm — steadying her as he slammed up into her over and over, watching her jaw slacken, her eyes flutter.

“Fuck your little wife,” she babbled.

“Turn her into a dripping, gasping, fucked-stupid mess…”

“I want to feel your cum get stirred back up inside me.”

Andy’s hands went everywhere — squeezing her ass, palming her tits, smearing his own cum from her chest into her nipples as he kept ramming her like she was his favorite toy.

“You love this…” he snarled.

“You love being fucked while you’re still leaking.”

“I do!” she cried. “I fucking love it—don’t stop—don’t ever stop—”

The couch rocked beneath them, her voice rising with each thrust.

And still she begged:

“Harder…”

“Faster…”

“I want to break… for you…”

Andy’s cock was like a piston — thick, slick, relentless — pounding up into Sandra’s soaked cunt with the full weight of two days’ worth of restraint.

Sandra clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, her cries unraveling into gasps and curses.

“Fuck—yes—yes—fuck me like that, Andy—just like that—”

Her tits bounced wildly with every thrust, smearing trails of drying cum across his chest and her own.

He leaned forward, grabbed one nipple between his teeth, sucked hard — she screamed — and he bit down just enough to make her sob out a “Yes!” before he kissed her again, tongue wet and feral.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled.

“You’re dripping my cum while I fuck more into you. You feel that, baby?”

“I feel everything,” she gasped, hips rocking harder.

“It’s so messy—so hot—don’t stop—”

“I’m going to keep fucking you until you can’t close your thighs without leaking.”

He slapped her ass, hard.

“Turn around.”

She blinked, dazed.

“W-what?”

“I want you on all fours,” he growled. “I want to see it. Your pussy. My cum. All of it.”

“I want to watch it drip while I fuck it back in.”

Sandra shivered.

She slid off his lap, still moaning, and slowly turned around — knees on the couch, ass up, head down. She arched her back instinctively, spreading her legs wider, presenting herself like she’d done it a thousand times.

Her cunt was glistening.

Pink, puffy, and painted.

His cum was still inside her — visible — dripping slowly out between her folds like a ruined frosting line.

“Fuck, look at that…” he murmured.

He grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed it between her lips — smearing everything — then slammed back into her, both of them howling.

Sandra cried out, face pressing into the cushions, hands clenching the fabric.

“YES—oh god—yes!”

“You’re leaking, baby,” he said, pounding into her.

“I want it all.”

He pulled out.

She whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

He reached between her legs with two fingers, scooped deep, pulling out a creamy mix of his load and her arousal, and looked at it glistening.

“Look what you’re made of now.”

She turned her head, drooling slightly.

“Feed me…”

He pressed the mess to her lips — slow, deliberate.

She opened.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Eat it.”

She moaned as she sucked his fingers — licking between them, coating her tongue in the thick mix.

“Mmm… salty… thick… us.”

“I want more… please… give me all of it…”

He fed her again, then rubbed the rest across her tongue — watching it pool at the base before she swallowed.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.”

“Your cum keeps me full…” she whispered. “I want to live off it. I want to be your filthy cum-fed slut…”

“Then stay on your knees and open that pussy wider,” he growled, guiding himself back in.

“Because I’m not done feeding you yet.”

Sandra’s body trembled as Andy pushed back into her — the stretch still hot and slick from everything they’d already shared. She gasped when he bottomed out again, both of them groaning in unison as his cum from before squelched around the base of his cock.

“That’s it…” she breathed.

“Use me… stuff me again…”

Andy grabbed her hips and slammed into her hard — hips slapping against her ass, their skin colliding in wet, filthy rhythm.

He reached forward, grabbed a handful of her hair, and yanked her head back — just enough to **** her arch deeper, her back bending into the filthiest shape imaginable.

“You think this is what good wives do?” he growled into her ear.

“Only the best ones,” she moaned, a wicked smile on her lips.

“Only the ones who crave it.”

He growled and spanked her hard, a loud crack echoing in the room.

She yelped — then moaned.

“Yes… more… don’t be gentle with your cumslut…”

Another slap. And another. Her ass was red, jiggling with each blow, her breath sharp and gasping, her pussy clenching tighter every time his hand struck her.

“I want to be fucked until I can’t think…”

“You already can’t,” he snarled.

“Then make it worse,” she whimpered.

“Break me, baby… ruin me…”

Andy bent over her — his hand still in her hair — and whispered into her ear:

“You’re mine.”

“My wife.”

“My cumdump.”

“My perfect fucktoy.”

She was shaking under him now — on edge, wet beyond reason — her body melting into submission, her voice nothing but broken moans.

And Andy could feel it.

He was building again.

Fast.

“I’m gonna fill you,” he growled.

“Gonna fucking breed you right here on the couch…”

“Do it…” she begged. “I want to feel it again… I want to feel full again…”

“Give me another load… fuck it deep into me…”

With a snarl, he slammed into her — over and over, faster, harder — until his whole body tensed and his cock erupted again, hot spurts shooting deep inside her, flooding her already soaked pussy with a second, thicker creampie.

She screamed.

And pushed her ass back into him — taking every drop.

“YES… oh fuck YES… fill me… ruin me…”

They both collapsed against the couch, breath ragged, sweat slicking their skin.

But Sandra didn’t stop moving.

She arched again.

And whispered:

“Now make me watch it happen all over again.”

The room was quieter now — but only barely.

On the TV, the scene had changed: now a woman with her mouth wide open was getting double-penetrated while another man stroked over her face, ready to glaze her like frosting.

Andy stood behind Sandra, one hand in her hair, the other trailing down her back as she rested against the arm of the couch — thighs still sticky, pussy leaking fresh cum onto the cushion below.

He pulled her head up — gently — and turned her gaze toward the television.

“That,” he said, voice low, “is what I used to jerk off to before you became mine.”

Sandra watched, breathing softly, mascara still streaked, lips swollen, dried cum tugging at her cheek as she blinked.

She didn’t look away.

“You came to that?” she whispered.

“So many times.”

He bent close, lips at her ear.

“But nothing — nothing — was ever as hot as you.”

She turned to look at her reflection in the side mirror.

What she saw made her breath catch.

Her face was streaked with drying white, eyes dark and wild, red lipstick broken at the edges. Her tits were smeared, hair stuck to her cheeks, and her thighs were spread wide, pussy still visibly leaking what Andy had just pumped into her.

She looked wrecked.

Debauched.

And gorgeous.

“Look at you…” Andy whispered.

“You’re not a wife right now.”

“You’re a cumslut. My cumslut. Dripping. Stretched. Smiling.”

Sandra’s hand drifted to her belly.

She rubbed the mess there, dragging cum higher across her stomach, painting herself like art.

“They’d love me,” she whispered suddenly.

“If I was in that video… if I was kneeling between them…”

Andy blinked.

“What?”

She kept staring at herself.

“Ten cocks. One mouth. My tits out. Kneeling between them while they take turns painting me…”

“I want it.”

“I want them to see what you’ve made me.”

Andy’s cock throbbed again.

Sandra smirked.

“You’re hard.”

“So are you,” he murmured, sliding his fingers between her legs again, pulling out another wet glob of cum and slick.

She moaned, softly, and sucked his fingers clean.

“Maybe I should start auditioning,” she teased.

“Maybe you should film me next time.”

Sandra stayed still, gazing at her reflection — admiring the wreckage Andy had made of her.

“God, look at me…” she whispered. “I look like I just walked off one of those videos.”

She traced a finger through the drying cum on her chest — drew a little circle around one nipple — and giggled.

“You came so much… it’s still sticky between my toes.”

Andy stood behind her again, stroking himself slowly now.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be,” he murmured.

“You’re supposed to be soaked.”

“And dirty,” she added. “You like me dirty, don’t you?”

“I love it.”

She smiled and leaned her cheek against the couch.

“You used to jerk off to girls who got their faces painted by strangers.”

“Now you’ve got one on her knees in your living room.”

“And she’s begging for more.”

She glanced up at him with a wicked smile.

“I bet you’d love to see me sandwiched between two guys.”

“Your cock in my mouth…”

She licked her lips, slow.

“…and someone else behind me. Stretching me. Ruining me.”

Andy grunted, cock twitching in his hand.

“You want that now?”

“Not yet…” she purred. “But soon.”

She rolled onto her back, stretching her arms over her head — her body a glistening, cum-slicked mess of red cheeks, soft moans, and glowing skin.

“Maybe start small. A blowjob in front of Ron?”

“Or maybe…” she smirked, “you call your office boys over one night. Pretend it’s movie night.”

“And I’m the popcorn.”

Andy couldn’t breathe.

Sandra spread her legs, inviting his gaze back to the creamy mess that still glistened between her folds.

She rolled onto her side, her fingers trailing down her belly, scooping the dried mess and bringing it lazily to her lips.

Her thighs parted again, as if her body had its own ideas.

“But for now…”

She licked her lips.

“I still want your next load.”

Sandra sat back against the couch, legs parted, body glowing with sweat, streaked with dried and fresh cum — her hair a wild mess, choker gleaming, lips parted in a lazy, satisfied smile.

And she was still hungry.

She picked up the half-finished wine glass she’d left earlier on the floor.

The rim still had a smudge of her lipstick. Her fingerprints marked the bowl.

“This looks a little empty,” she murmured, swirling the last few drops.

“I think you should top me off, baby.”

Andy groaned — one hand already wrapped around his cock, still soaked from her, hard again from nothing but the sight of her.

“You want to drink it?” he asked.

She looked up at him with those cum-glazed eyes, and smirked.

“No,” she said. “I want to swallow you.”

“Fill my glass like I’m your slutty little sommelier.”

She knelt again, placed the glass on the floor, and leaned back on her heels — hands behind her, throat arched, mouth open, face expectant.

Andy stood above her, stroking fast now — the sounds wet, primal.

She watched him — eyes full of heat — lips parted, tongue teasing the air.

“That’s it…” she whispered.

“Stroke it… think about what you’ve done to me.”

“Your sweet, innocent wife… now kneeling… begging for your cum like it’s champagne…”

“You going to make me drink it, baby?”

“Going to feed your good little cumslut?”

Andy grunted — body tensing — and the first spurt launched from his cock, arcing perfectly into the wineglass.

She gasped.

The second shot landed harder — a thick glob hitting the side and sliding slowly down into the liquid.

“Yes… yes… more…”

He came again — three… four… five spurts, filling the glass with hot, sticky, white.

Sandra moaned as she watched it collect — warm, swirling, mixing with what little wine was left.

Her hair clung to her temples and neck in damp, tangled waves. Her choker was askew, but still read clear as ever:

CUMSLUT.

She reached down with two fingers, scooped a thick trail of cum from under one tit, and lazily licked it from her knuckles.

“Still so warm…”

It was half full now — white and cloudy, streaked from the pour, still steaming faintly from the heat of his last orgasm.

She swirled it once — like a connoisseur.

Sniffed.

Moaned.

“God… it even smells like you.”

She dipped one finger in, stirred slowly, then brought it to her lips — licking the pad first, then sucking it entirely.

“Creamy… thick… tastes like everything I want.”

She dipped two fingers this time, deeper — scooped up a swirl and slowly traced it across her bottom lip. Then sucked it in with a slurp.

She brought the glass to her lips, looked up at Andy, and whispered:

“Say it.”

“Say what I am.”

Andy met her eyes.

“You’re my cumslut.”

“My glowing, dripping, gorgeous cumslut.”

She smiled — warm and filthy — then poured the entire glass into her mouth.

It overflowed slightly — white streaks running down her chin and dripping over her chest.

She didn’t swallow.

She gargled it.

Loud, bubbly.

Her cheeks full, her mouth swirling with his load.

Then she opened her mouth — showed him the mess on her tongue.

Held it there.

Moaned.

Swallowed.

“Next time…”

“I want it overflowing.”