In a party, Dylan observes with jealousy how his wife Isabella dances and gives herself intensely to an unknown man, while he struggles between anger and a secret excitement that threatens to change everything.
Dylan was in the furthest corner of the room, his glass of red wine almost untouched in his hand. The party, organized to celebrate a close friend's anniversary, was at its height. The music, a mix of Latin rhythms and pop, filled the air while the dim lights created an intimate atmosphere. But he wasn't there to enjoy himself. His gaze was fixed on his wife, Isabella, whose blonde and radiant presence stood out in the crowd. She was the center of attention, as always, with her slender body and her captivating smile. However, that night, something in her behavior unsettled him.
A man Dylan didn't recognize approached Isabella. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with an arrogant smile that Dylan didn't like at all. The stranger extended his hand, inviting her to dance. Isabella, with a flirtatious smile, accepted without hesitation. Dylan squeezed his glass tightly, feeling his stomach twist with jealousy. It wasn't the first time a man had approached his wife, but something about this guy made him especially nervous.
The couple moved toward the dance floor, where the music enveloped them. The man pulled her toward him, their bodies pressed together in a way Dylan considered too intimate. Isabella didn't seem uncomfortable; rather, her smile widened as her hips moved to the rhythm of the music. The stranger held her tightly, his hand sliding dangerously close to her waist. Dylan felt his member harden despite himself, a mixture of anger and desire consuming him.
The friction between them became more intense. The man pressed his body against Isabella's, his erection evident even through the fabric of his pants. She didn't pull away; instead, her head tilted back, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Dylan watched, helpless, as the stranger dominated her, his hand now on her hip, guiding her movements with a familiarity that didn't belong to him.
Suddenly, the man lifted her, sitting her on his legs as if she were a piece of furniture. Isabella laughed, a crystalline sound that echoed through the room, while the stranger adjusted her against his lap. Dylan saw the man's erection pressing against his wife's buttocks, and his heart pounded with fury. Isabella, however, seemed oblivious to the tension her husband felt. Her smile didn't fade, and her hands rested on the man's shoulders as if everything were completely normal.
The stranger began to move her to the rhythm of the music, his erection rubbing against Isabella with every sway. Dylan noticed how she bit her lower lip, her breathing accelerating slightly. Was it his imagination, or was his wife enjoying the situation? The idea tortured him, but he couldn't look away.
"Isabella," Dylan muttered, his voice firm but trembling, as he approached the dance floor. The music was loud, and his words were lost in the air. She didn't hear him, or perhaps she chose to ignore him, because her attention was completely centered on the man holding her.
The stranger whispered something in Isabella's ear, and she laughed again, her head tilting back in a gesture of surrender. Dylan saw her hand slide toward the man's crotch, her fingers brushing the fabric of his pants. Dylan's heart sank. How had it come to this? His wife, the woman he loved, was being groped by a stranger, and she not only allowed it but seemed to enjoy it.
The man's hand moved under Isabella's dress, her skirt rising enough to expose her thighs. Dylan felt a knot in his throat. The stranger was touching his wife, invading her space, and she did nothing to stop him. Instead, her moans grew louder, her body arching slightly against his.
"Isabella," Dylan repeated, this time with more force, but his words were lost in her moans and the music surrounding them. The man was fucking her with her clothes on, his thick member pressing against her sex, and she responded with enthusiasm. Dylan saw her eyes close, her face a mask of pleasure.
The room seemed to have stopped, as if everyone present were aware of what was happening, yet no one intervened. It was as if it were a permitted spectacle, an erotic scene that everyone observed with morbid curiosity. Dylan felt helpless, his body tense as he moved closer to the couple.
The stranger whispered something else into Isabella's ear, and she nodded, her hand tightening on the back of the man's neck. Dylan saw their lips meet in a passionate kiss, their tongues intertwining wildly. Dylan's stomach churned again, but this time it wasn't just jealousy he felt, but also a strange excitement that embarrassed him.
"Isabella," Dylan said for the third time, his voice now a hoarse whisper as he stood behind them. Her hand slid toward the man's belt, her fingers working skillfully to release his member. Dylan watched, paralyzed, as the stranger guided her, his erection breaking free from the confines of his pants.
The future was uncertain, and Dylan didn't know what to do. Should he intervene, reclaim his wife, or allow the scene to continue? The tension in the air was palpable, and he wondered if this night would mark the beginning of something new, or if everything would return to normal once the music stopped.
Isabella opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Dylan's for a brief moment. Her smile didn't fade, but in her eyes, there was something he couldn't decipher. Was it guilt? Or was it desire? The stranger kissed her again, his hand sliding between her legs, and she moaned, her head falling back.
Dylan stayed there, suspended in time, while the scene unfolded before him. The possibility of Isabella giving herself completely to the stranger tortured him, but it also excited him in a way he couldn't ignore. The room spun around him, the sounds of the party turning into a distant murmur.
The man penetrated her forcefully, his thick member sliding between her legs, and she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. Dylan felt his own erection throb, his body responding to the scene with an intensity that shamed him. Is this what he wanted? To see his wife with another man, to feel humiliation and desire intermingling within him?
The music changed, a slower rhythm that invited intimacy. The stranger whispered something else into Isabella's ear, and she nodded, her hand sliding toward Dylan's fly. He froze, his body tense as she touched him, his member hard and uncomfortable in his pants.
"What are you doing?" Dylan murmured, his voice hoarse, but Isabella didn't answer. Her fingers worked skillfully, releasing his erection and guiding it toward her mouth. Dylan moaned, his head falling back as she enveloped him with her lips, her tongue sliding over the head of his member.
The stranger watched, a triumphant smile on his face, while Isabella pleasured him. Dylan closed his eyes, his body trembling with pleasure and confusion. Was this what he wanted? To be part of this game, to allow his wife to share him with another man?
The room spun around him, the sounds of the party becoming a distant whisper. Dylan didn't know what to do, whether to intervene or surrender to the desire consuming him. The scene remained suspended, with the possibility of Isabella giving herself completely to the stranger, or Dylan reclaiming what was his. But for now, there were only glances, moans, and the promise of something more.