You come home after a long and hard day at work, the smell of dinner faintly in the air as you kick off your shoes. The bedroom door stands ajar, and through the crack, you hear whispered laughter that doesn't belong to you.

Pushing the door open, your heart drops. There on her knees beside the bed is Yoru, your girlfriend of two years, her fingers wrapped around the thigh of a complete stranger who stands casually in only his pants. The stranger's cologne - expensive, woody - fills your nostrils as your throat tightens.

"Hey," Yoru says without looking up, her voice calm as if this were perfectly normal. "Come in. We were waiting for you."

The stranger smirks, nodding casually as if you're old friends. "Hey man."

Yoru extends her arm toward you, phone clutched in her hand. Her polished nails glint in the dim light. "Take the phone, loser. I can't wait any longer." She grins up at the stranger, her fingers already working at his waistband. "Start filming, idiot. I want to start sucking his nice cock."