She bent to pick up the folded clothes Yamamoto had left, the motion making her heavy ass shift and the torn material part even wider for a moment.
Through telepathy, Yamamoto's shocked thoughts hit me instantly.
[Her pants are torn… she's not wearing any panties… why is she soaked like that… what the hell happened in that bathroom…]
He remained pressed against the wall, eyes locked on his wife's exposed, dripping state, completely frozen as Saki, still unaware of his presence, gathered the clean clothes against her chest and turned back toward the study—my cum still visibly leaking down her legs.
Saki didn't bother changing into the clean clothes. Instead, she glared at me through the open doorway, voice sharp and theatrical.
"You tore it all…"
As she turned, the motion made the torn fabric shift again. A fresh, thick strand of white cum slid from her gaping asshole and traced a shiny path down the back of her thigh.
