It wasn’t enough anymore for Derek to just fuck Stiles in secret.

He wanted more. He wanted to mark her, own her, humiliate her in ways she’d never imagined. And deep down, Stiles craved it too—the danger, the filth, the thrill of cheating while Scott remained clueless and loving.

It started one night after Derek had just bent her over his couch and filled her to the brim. Her pussy was dripping, cum smeared all down her thighs. She collapsed against the cushions, panting, hair a mess, tits hanging heavy.

Derek leaned over, still hard, his cock shiny with their juices. He pressed a rough kiss to her lips and whispered, “Don’t clean up. Go home like this. Let your husband kiss you while my cum’s leaking out of your pussy.”

Stiles’s eyes went wide. “D-Derek, that’s—”

“Hot,” he finished, slapping her ass. “You’re my little whore. Do it.”

Her body shivered. She pulled her tiny dress down over her messy cunt, still dripping, and stumbled back to her house. Scott was sitting on the couch, smiling warmly when she walked in. He patted the seat beside him, pulling her close, kissing her cheek.

“Missed you, baby,” he said sweetly.

And the whole time, Derek’s cum was sliding out of her pussy, soaking into her panties while her husband hugged her tight. The shame, the thrill—it made her wetter than ever.

The next time, Derek pushed further.

He had just finished fucking her against his kitchen counter, pulling out and spraying a thick load all over her swollen pussy and ass. Before she could even catch her breath, he smirked.

“Don’t shower. Go home now. Let him eat his dinner while my cum drips down your legs.”

Stiles whimpered, but obeyed. She went back, thighs sticky, dress clinging to her sweaty body. Scott was already at the table, smiling at her lovingly.

“Smells good in here,” he said, pulling out her chair.

She sat, trying not to squirm as Derek’s cum oozed out onto the seat beneath her. The thought of Scott sitting across from her, completely oblivious, made her pussy twitch and squirt again silently.

Then Derek took it to the next level.

One evening, after a long rough fuck in his garage, he held his phone up, recording her on her knees. Cum smeared across her lips, dripping down her chin, tits out.

“Say it,” he ordered.

Her mascara was smudged, her voice trembling with lust. “I’m Scott’s wife… but I’m Derek’s slut.”

He laughed darkly, shoving his cock back into her mouth while still recording.

Later that night, Derek texted her while she lay in bed beside her husband. “Show him how much you love him, baby. Kiss him goodnight with my cum still in your mouth.”

Her pussy gushed instantly at the command. She turned, kissed Scott deeply, tongue slipping into his mouth while Derek’s taste was still thick on her lips. Scott groaned, smiling, completely unaware that he was tasting his wife’s lover.

Stiles almost came just from that.

It became their game.

Derek would fuck her raw, fill her pussy until she dripped, then send her home to Scott without letting her clean up. Sometimes he made her sit on Scott’s lap while his cum soaked through her panties onto his jeans. Sometimes he had her ride Scott later that night, knowing she was already stretched wide and filled by him.

“Your husband’s cock is just mopping up my mess,” Derek whispered one night as he pounded her on the couch. “That’s all he’s good for.”

And Stiles, dizzy with lust, cried out, “Yes, Daddy! He’s just cleaning up after you! I’m your whore!”

Derek grinned, slapping her soaked pussy until she squirted all over his stomach.

And in that moment, she realized she loved it—the filth, the humiliation, the secret.

She was no longer just cheating.

She was being owned.