The Perfect Morning

Chris hadn’t slept. He had stayed on the couch until six in the morning, phone in hand, staring over and over at photos that were no longer there. At 4:12 they had all disappeared. A 24-hour expiration. As if they had never existed. As if everything had been a sick dream.

He had masturbated three times. The first, right after seeing the last photo: Adriana on her back, legs open, her ass dripping thick semen from the black bull. He came in less than a minute, grunting softly, imagining it was real, imagining that monstrous cock had truly split her open, that she had moaned like she never had with him. The second time, at 5:10, slower, replaying each photo: her mouth taking the tip, her head being held, her eating the black man’s ass… he came again, panting Adriana’s name under his breath. The third, almost at dawn, was ****, almost angry. He came dry, trembling, with the image of his wife being fucked by that giant black man burned into his mind.

And then… nothing. Just emptiness and guilt.

At 8:47 in the morning, Adriana was still sleeping like never before. Chris had entered the bedroom twice. She was face down, completely naked, the sheets tangled between her legs. Her ass still faintly marked with light redness. She was breathing deeply, heavily, as if her body had been used to its limit and now needed to recover. He had never seen her sleep like that. So… satisfied.

Chris’s phone vibrated on the kitchen table.

**Abella :**

Good morning, baldy Did you get any sleep or did you spend all night staring at photos that don’t exist anymore?

Chris felt his stomach flip. He typed with trembling fingers.

**Chris:**

Abella… what the hell was that last night?

**Abella :**

Hahahahaha oh God, you’re so dramatic. Did you really believe it? It was a SETUP, idiot. All of it. Quick Photoshop, filters, club lighting… The girls and I were dying laughing when we saw you swallow it whole. Did you really think Adriana would do those filthy things? Your Adriana? The good wife who cooks you dinner and kisses your forehead? Please… you’re more naive than I thought.

Chris stared at the screen. His heart was pounding.

**Abella :**

Look, I’ll explain so you can calm down: last night we just danced, drank champagne, and had a great laugh. There were two very nice black guys there, yes, but we only chatted. Adriana had two drinks and got a little silly, that’s all. The photos were our prank. I sent you edits just to tease you a bit. See how you are? You make up entire movies in your head.

Another photo arrived. This one normal: Adriana, Abella, Lana, and Riley sitting in a private booth, smiling at the camera, drinks in hand. Clothes on. Nothing strange. Just girls having fun.

**Abella :**

See? This is what really happened. The rest was Photoshop. Adriana didn’t even know I was sending you anything. She was too busy laughing with us. Do you honestly think your little wife would get on her knees and eat a black guy’s ass? Hahaha please, Chris. You’re adorable when you get paranoid.

Chris felt something inside him loosen. A deep relief, almost painful. He wanted to believe it. He needed to believe it. Because if he didn’t… everything collapsed. The marriage. His identity. His life.

And there was the obvious lie, served on a silver platter, warm and comforting.

**Chris:**

…Fuck, Abella. You scared me to ****.

**Abella :**

That’s what you get for being so gullible, baldy But relax, your Adriana is still the same little saint as always. Just a bit happier since she’s been hanging out with us. Now she’s sleeping like a baby because she had an amazing time dancing. That’s all. See? Everything’s fine. Just like always.

Chris set the phone down on the table. He took a deep breath. Looked toward the bedroom. Adriana was still deeply asleep, face down, a faint smile on her lips even in her sleep. Her ass marked. The scent of sex still floating very subtly in the air.

But he chose not to smell it.

He chose to believe.

Because it was all he had left.

**Chris:**

Okay… thanks for explaining. You got me. I’m paranoid.

**Abella :**

You’re welcome, little cuck (kidding, kidding). Now go make your wifey breakfast when she wakes up. She deserves it. She danced a lot last night… and you know how exhausting that is.

Chris smiled sadly. A broken smile.

Yes. It had all been a setup.

It had to be.

And as he prepared coffee and toast, his hands still trembling slightly, he repeated the phrase like a mantra:

“It was just a setup. Adriana would never do that. Adriana loves me. Everything is fine.”

And for the first time in many hours, the knot in his chest loosened a little.

Because he had chosen to believe the biggest lie of all.

The one everyone saw except him.