Kenji rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the numbers on his laptop screen. The monthly reports weren't adding up again, and the manager was already breathing down his neck. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, glancing at the clock.
6:42 PM.
Yumi should've been home by now.
He reached for his phone and dialed her.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
No answer.
He frowned and tried again, this time switching to video call. Still nothing.
"Weird…" he muttered, getting up from his desk.
She was always punctual. Always told him if she was going to be late. She hadn't messaged him all day. Not even a "leaving work now" or a sticker.
Kenji walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was almost empty—except for some vegetables and eggs. He smiled faintly.
"I'll make her something simple," he mumbled to himself. "Omelette rice. Her favorite."
He turned on the stove and got to work, trying to shake off the unease building in his gut.
But just as he cracked the first egg, his phone buzzed again.
Yuto [8:47 PM]:
"Dude… uh. I think you need to see this."
Kenji raised a brow, wiping his hands on a towel. It wasn't unusual for Yuto to send him memes or dumb videos. Probably another cat wearing sunglasses or something.
He tapped the link.
A browser window opened, loading quickly.
The title made him pause.
"Alley Fuck Toy Squirts Like a Busted Faucet 💦"
Views: 83,971
Shares: 349
Kenji frowned. "What the hell…?"
He almost closed it.
Almost.
But then the thumbnail loaded.
A dim alley.
A woman on her knees.
Face flushed, tongue out, her body slouched forward like she was barely conscious. A man stood behind her, thrusting relentlessly—his face blurred, but his posture unmistakably dominant. The woman was twitching, her pussy spurting in rhythmic bursts, splattering the alley floor beneath her.
Kenji stared. Something about her seemed… familiar.
He tapped play.
The sound was the first thing that hit him. The wet, brutal rhythm of flesh on flesh. The woman's moans—high-pitched, breathless, almost delirious. She cried out with every thrust, her voice trembling, ragged, genuine. Not porn-star faked. Not exaggerated.
This was real.
Kenji watched as the camera panned across her ruined body. Her thighs were shaking uncontrollably. Her makeup was a mess. Her mouth kept opening and closing like she wanted to speak—but all she could do was moan. Loud. Unfiltered. Honest.
Her pussy was gushing with each thrust—liquid spraying out of her like she had no control anymore, like her body was just a broken faucet.
And then—he saw it.
The mole on her hip.
The exact shape.
The curve of her spine.
The necklace she never took off—the tiny silver heart.
Yumi.
His wife.
Kenji froze. His heart pounded.
"No… that's not…" he whispered.
But the more he watched, the clearer it became. Her voice. Her body. Her desperate, pathetic sobs as she came again, and again, and again, juices spraying out of her pussy with each thrust like a human sprinkler.
And somehow—
His cock stirred.
He didn't understand it.
Didn't want to understand it.
But his pants felt tighter. His breath was short. His body reacted to the sight of her—a woman he thought he knew—being broken into a drooling, twitching mess by some faceless man in a filthy alley.
"W-What the fuck is wrong with me…" he whispered.
His hand hovered near his zipper. Shame burned in his gut, but the pressure between his legs was unbearable.
On-screen, the man pulled out.
Yumi's gaping pussy twitched, and a flood of thick cum oozed out of her. She collapsed face-first onto the ground, her ass still raised, legs shaking violently. Her body spasmed, her fingers twitching as another weak squirt dribbled out of her abused cunt like her body was trying to cum even after he was gone.
Then, casually, the man leaned down…
And slid a folded bill into her quivering ass.
She moaned. Loud. Obscene. Enjoying it.
Comment section:
"Whoever she is, her pussy's on autopilot." — @SlickMouth
"Not a porn actress. That's a real bitch losing herself in public." — @CrackedDoll
"Hope her husband never finds out. Or maybe… he already has 😏" — @TapItOrTrapIt
Kenji backed away from the counter, chest heaving.
His phone buzzed again.
Yuto [8:49 PM]:
"I… I didn't want to believe it. But that necklace, man. I think it's her."
The kitchen went silent.
The egg in the pan had started to burn. Smoke curled into the air.
Kenji didn't move. He couldn't.
His heart pounded, his hands trembled—and his cock throbbed in confusion and shame.
His wife hadn't answered his call because she was too busy getting filled and turned into a cum-dripping squirting mess in a back alley… and the worst part?
Kenji was harder than he'd been in weeks.
The door creaked open.
Kenji's head snapped up from the phone still glowing in his hand. His heart thudded like a war drum in his chest.
She walked in.
Yumi.
Stumbling. Swaying. Drunk.
Her heels clicked unevenly across the wooden floor, each step unsteady. Her blouse was half-unbuttoned and hanging crooked off one shoulder, her pencil skirt twisted awkwardly around her hips. One stocking had slipped halfway down her leg, and—
Kenji's breath caught.
Her panties were hanging limply from her left thigh, stretched and soaked at the crotch, like they'd been torn halfway off and never pulled back up.
And on the corner of her lips, stuck delicately like a sick souvenir…
A short, curly pubic hair.
He recognized the color instantly.
It wasn't hers.
It wasn't his.
"Kenjiiii~" she slurred, voice thick and syrupy. "You waited for meee?"
She giggled, unbothered by the mess she was—like she had no clue what she looked like right now.
No clue what she smelled like.
She wobbled toward him, arms out like a child asking for a hug. "Mmmh, sorryyy. Work went loooong… overtime's the worst…"
She leaned into his chest, nuzzling her face against his shirt. Kenji stood frozen, not touching her, not moving, just staring.
The scent hit him first—a mix of alcohol, sweat… and stale sex. His stomach churned.
"Mmm, you're warm…" she mumbled, planting a sloppy kiss against his collarbone before nearly tipping over sideways.
She laughed and stumbled off to the bedroom, one heel dropping off along the way. Her skirt rode higher with every step, revealing the damp, sticky insides of her thighs—bare skin stained with crusted white trails.
Kenji followed in a daze, unable to stop himself.
Yumi flopped face-first onto the bed, her arms spread, one leg hanging off the mattress. Her ass was barely covered, and her skirt had hiked up, revealing everything.
His hands trembled as he stepped closer.
He didn't want to look.
But he did.
Her pussy was barely visible between parted thighs, lips puffy and discolored, slick with drying cum. It had smeared messily across her inner thighs and clung to the soft crease below her ass like glue.
And there—half-wedged into her crack—was a crumpled bill.
Folded carelessly. Stained.
Kenji stared at it.
He didn't move. Didn't blink.
Yumi murmured something into the sheets and shifted slightly, spreading her legs just a little wider, unknowingly exposing herself even more to the husband watching her.
Kenji's throat was dry. His mouth felt like sandpaper.
His cock twitched—painfully hard.
His fingers curled into fists.
She had no idea.
And he wasn't sure if he wanted to wake her… or fall to his knees and sob.