Honey's Poisoned Toy

Honey corrected her immediately, rolling her eyes with playful exasperation. “Mom, they’ve met before.”

David excused himself to the half-bath off the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him. A minute later Honey followed him in, her hips swaying as she slipped through the doorway and pulled it closed with a soft, deliberate snick.

I tried to get up again, the couch creaking under me, but her mom’s grip tightened even harder, nails biting deeper into my wrist until I winced. “Devin, you’re not starting trouble in my house,” she hissed under her breath, her face inches from mine so I could smell the faint floral scent of her perfume. “They’re talking about things that are none of your business. You’re a man don’t be insecure about her friends. Let them talk.”

I sat there, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat, dick half-hard and leaking warm precum into my jeans in a sticky, humiliating trail, rage and sadness and the most sickening, electric arousal crashing together in a storm inside me. I could hear faint giggles and low, murmured voices from behind the bathroom door muffled laughter, a soft thump against the wall and my mind supplied every possible image in vivid, unwanted detail: her pressed up against the sink, his hands on her, their bodies close in the small space.

That night, back at my place, Honey sent me another video from the car on her way home with David, the phone propped up on the dashboard so I could see everything. She was riding him right there in the passenger seat, her tits bouncing freely under the loose tank top she’d pulled down, his strong hands gripping her hips as she moved up and down on him with wet, rhythmic sounds. Headlights from passing cars swept across her face in flashes, illuminating the pure bliss in her eyes as she looked straight into the camera. “Mom really likes him,” she whispered breathlessly between moans, her voice husky and teasing. “Said he’s good for me. Said you need to learn how to share.”

I watched it on loop for hours, locked in my cage on the edge of my bed, stroking the cold steel futilely until I was shaking and edged beyond reason, the room filled with nothing but the wet sounds from the speakers and my own ragged breathing.