"Ah…. Ah…. Ah…. It feels good….. Ah…. Ah…"
Today I thought I will pick her up from home. When I came to her home I knocked at the door but didn't get any response. So I went to check her from the back of the home to her window. Then I saw from the window she is having sex.
She was riding him hard, her body rising and falling in a steady, hungry rhythm. Her full breasts bounced wildly with every downward slam—up and down, heavy and free, nipples stiff and dark, swinging in upside-down arcs that slapped softly against the soft undersides of her tits each time she bottomed out. The skin of her chest glistened with sweat, flushed red from exertion and pleasure.
Her thighs were spread wide over his hips, knees braced deep into the mattress so she could grind down fully, taking every inch of his thick cock inside her. Each time she lifted her hips, his shaft slid out halfway—slick, veiny, coated in a thick sheen of her creamy wetness—before she dropped again with force, swallowing him completely. The wet, filthy squelch of her pussy gripping and releasing him echoed clearly even outside. Her juices frothed at the base of his cock, dripping in slow strings down his balls and soaking the sheets beneath them. Every grind forward made her clit rub hard against his pubic bone, forcing sharper gasps from her open mouth.
"Ah...Ah….. More deep….."
"Let me fuck you from behind…"
She begged in a desperate, cracked voice. He grabbed her roughly and repositioned her. She went onto her hands and knees, ass pushed high in the air, back arched sharply, breasts hanging heavy beneath her and swaying forward with every tiny shift. He knelt behind her, one hand tangling deep in her hair near the roots, yanking her head back hard enough to strain her neck and force her mouth open wider in a gasp. With the other hand he guided his slick, pulsing cock—still shining from her earlier ride—back to her dripping entrance.
The swollen head parted her puffy, soaked folds slowly at first, stretching her open visibly, then he pushed forward inch by thick inch until his hips slapped flush against her ass with a loud, wet smack. He held there for a moment—buried balls-deep—letting her feel the full stretch, the way her inner walls fluttered and clenched tightly around every throbbing vein. Then he pulled back almost completely out, only the fat tip remaining inside, before slamming forward again—deep, hard, relentless.
He pounded into her with long, powerful strokes, burying himself fully each time, his heavy balls slapping rhythmically against her swollen clit. Her pussy made lewd, sucking, slurping noises with every withdrawal—clinging desperately, strings of clear arousal stretching between his cock and her entrance before snapping. Thick rivulets of her juices ran down the insides of her thighs, pooling on the sheets. Each brutal thrust jolted her forward, making her hanging breasts swing wildly, nipples dragging across the fabric. Her moans turned into choked, needy cries, drool slipping from the corner of her open mouth as he pulled her hair harder, controlling her arch and forcing her to take him even deeper.
I just watched a few minutes then left.
I felt anger?
No.
I felt sad depressed somehow. It's been 4 months we are in relationship. She was the first who proposed me and she is the first who betrayed me. I don't want to recall my past now. Somehow it's getting painful. As usual I went to school and sit in my table near the window. A cold wind whispering my ear like trying to heal my wound.
Then one by one students came. My other friends came. I greeted them with a happy smile face which is obviously fake—lips stretched tight, eyes not quite reaching the warmth they used to, the kind of smile that hurts the muscles more than it fools anyone. Inside, the ache from earlier pulsed steadily, a dull throb behind my ribs that made every breath feel heavy.
Then my so-called girlfriend came. She caught me off guard, leaning in quick and pressing a soft, casual kiss to my cheek—her lips warm, familiar, carrying the faint trace of the same lip balm she always used. The same mouth that had moaned "Ah… more deep…" just hours ago now touched my skin like nothing had changed. It felt disgusting now. Annoying. Invasive. Like acid on an open cut. My stomach twisted, bile rising, but I swallowed it down.
I stood up slowly, looking at her sadly—eyes heavy, shoulders slumped, the weight of everything pressing me down. My mouth opened. The words formed, raw and final.
"Let's brea….."
The teacher came in the classroom then. Before I could finish the sentence, a low rumble shook the floor beneath us. The desks rattled, pencils rolled off edges, chairs scraped. A glowing magical circle erupted across the entire classroom floor—intricate runes pulsing with violet and gold light, spreading outward like cracks in ice. The air crackled, thick with ozone and something sweeter, almost metallic. Everyone froze—gasps, confused shouts—then a blinding flash of white light swallowed everything.
When we opened our eyes, the classroom was gone.
We were standing on cold, polished stone in a vast throne room of impossible grandeur. The air here felt heavier, charged with faint static that made the hairs on my arms stand up. Massive doors forged from "Star-Iron" lined the far wall—dark, almost black metal that hummed faintly, a low vibration I could feel in my chest, as if warning something unseen. Nearby, massive slabs of white quartz glowed softly from within, like trapped moonlight pulsing gently. The floor was polished obsidian so perfect it reflected the vaulted ceiling above—stars and constellations carved into dark stone, making it feel like we were standing on the night sky itself. Stone statues lined the walls: tall, hooded figures that only cracked their stone eyelids open when someone spoke, watching with slow, deliberate blinks.
Knights in armor stood motionless—hollow suits held together by flickering blue flame that danced inside the visors and joints, no flesh beneath, just eternal fire.
It was a throne room. Empty except for us. No king, no guards, just the echoing vastness and the faint, distant hum of magic in the air.
All of us standing here didn't know what would happen. Confusion rippled through the group—whispers, nervous shifting, someone letting out a shaky laugh that died quickly.
I didn't see my girlfriend—no, now she's ex-girlfriend—anywhere. She wasn't near me, wasn't in the crowd. Part of me felt relief; the rest just felt hollower.
Elana came to me and asked, "Where are we?"
"Don't know, maybe somewhere far."
Elana is a girl who is class rep of the class and sits next to me in the class. She looked small here—wide eyes scanning the towering statues and glowing quartz, her usual calm composure cracking just a little. Her voice was quiet, steady, but I could hear the tremor underneath. She stayed close, shoulder almost brushing mine, like she needed the anchor of something familiar in this alien place.
The blue flames in the knight armor flickered once, as if responding to our voices, but no one moved. No one spoke again for a long moment.
Just silence, and the weight of whatever came next.