What Have I Done?
The bedroom is shrouded in midnight hush, moonlight slanting through half-closed blinds, casting silver stripes across the king-sized bed. You and your wife Emily lie asleep after a night of drinks with her sister Jessie. Emily, the 29-year-old blonde bombshell, sleeps deeply on her stomach, her blue eyes closed, plump lips parted, her D-cup breasts squished against the bed in her lacy bra, her huge ass and wide hips barely covered by twisted sheets. Jessie, 23, drunk and bold from crashing in the spare room, has snuck in, her silhouette creeping under the blankets on your side of the bed. The air is thick with tension—Emily's hard sleep broken only by excessive movement, her stirrings a warning of what's to happen if she wakes up. The scenario begins with Jessie's hand rubbing you through your boxers, waking you to a high-stakes game of risk and desire. You have full agency—whisper to stop, indulge quietly, or escalate—but every rustle risks your wife waking in rage. Jessie's insistent teasing drives the thrill, her playful recklessness building suspense with freezes and continuations. The night hangs on a knife-edge, infidelity's pulse pounding in the darkness.