Sophie once loved her husband. Like, really loved him. The kind of love where you sit on the floor of your first apartment, eating takeout and genuinely believe you’re in a fairy tale. The kind where you stare at your phone waiting for his name to light up and your stomach flips every single time.
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Sophie once loved her husband. Like, really loved him. The kind of love where you sit on the floor of your first apartment, eating takeout and genuinely believe you’re in a fairy tale. The kind where you stare at your phone waiting for his name to light up and your stomach flips every single time.
He was Daniel Harper.
They met at a rooftop bar in San Francisco when she was twenty-four. She had just moved back to the Bay after college, still loud, still glowing from Florida sun and bad decisions. Daniel was a little older, 28, tall, with broad shoulders, and dark brown hair that fell perfectly even when he didn’t try. He had that quiet, controlled energy about him. The kind that makes you feel safe and nervous at the same time.
He worked in commercial real estate. Wore pressed button-downs and expensive watches but swore he wasn’t “one of those finance guys.” He had a deep voice, steady eye contact, and when he listened, he really listened, as if his entire attention was affixed to every word. Or at least it felt like he did.
He told her on their third date, “You’re different, Sophie. You don’t try to impress anyone. You just… are.”
And she melted.
She used to lie in bed next to him thinking, This is it. This is my person.
It didn’t take long for things to turn upside down.
The first time he came home drunk, she thought it was just a bad night.
The second time, she told herself he was stressed.
The third time, she started to feel that pit in her stomach around midnight.
Then one night, the clock hit 6:07 a.m.
She had been sitting on the couch, lights off, TV on mute. Just waiting.
The door unlocked loudly. Too loudly. He stumbled in, tie loosened, eyes glassy.
“Why the hell are you coming home at six in the morning?” she shouted, standing up so fast the coffee table rattled. “I was worried about you. You didn’t even have the courtesy to call me.”
He rolled his eyes and dropped his keys on the counter.
“Jesus, Sophie. Here we go.”
“Here we go?” she repeated. “You disappear all night, and I’m the problem?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, pulling off his jacket. “Bitch, shut up and stop bitching at me.”
The word hit her harder than she expected.
“Don’t you ever call me that,” she shot back, voice shaking now. “I’m your wife.”
He turned toward her, jaw tight. “Then act like it. Stop nagging me like my mother.”
She stepped closer, anger rising. “You think this is nagging? I thought something happened to you. I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”
And before she could even process what was happening, his hand came across her face with full force.
The sound echoed.
It didn’t feel real at first. Just heat. Then pain. Then the taste of metal in her mouth.
She spiraled to the floor, her head ringing. Her cheek already swelling.
He stood over her for a second, breathing heavy. Then he shook his head like she had inconvenienced him.
“You make me crazy,” he muttered.
He walked into the living room, collapsed on the couch, and passed out within minutes.
Sophie stayed on the floor longer than she would ever admit to anyone.
That night became a pattern.
Apologies in the morning. Flowers. “You know I don’t mean it.” “I just drink too much sometimes.” “You push me.” “I’m under pressure.” “I love you.”
And she believed him. Every single time.
Six months later, at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning, Jessica heard a knock on her door.
Jess lived in a modest apartment twenty minutes away. Messy but cozy. A fake plant by the window, shoes kicked off by the couch, a half-empty wine bottle on the kitchen counter from the night before.
She opened the door half-asleep.
And froze.
Sophie stood there in oversized sunglasses and a hoodie. It was cloudy outside.
Jess pulled the glasses off her face gently. The bruise was deep purple.
“Oh my God,” Jess whispered. “What happened? Who hit you? Where’s Daniel?”
Silence.
Sophie looked at her.
And in that look, Jess understood everything.
“You’re coming inside,” Jess said immediately, stepping aside.
Jess knew Daniel drank. Sophie had mentioned it casually before. “He just gets a little out of control sometimes.” But Jess had never imagined this. Jess and Sophie had been best friends since college. Both Bay Area girls ended up at Florida State because they loved the sun, chaos and wanted something different.
They met during orientation when Sophie made a joke about the humidity ruining her hair, and Jess laughed so hard she snorted. From that moment on, they were inseparable. They survived freshman year together. Shared clothes. Shared secrets. Shared Uber rides at 2 a.m. They held each other’s hair back in bathroom stalls. They cried over boys who didn’t deserve them.
When Jess’s ex cheated on her in her sophomore year, Sophie showed up with tequila and said, “We’re not crying tonight. We’re upgrading.” They hit local clubs and frat parties like it was their job. There were nights they barely remembered, and stories they weren’t sure were real.
One time, at a frat party, the two both gave a blowjob to Jessica’s fling because of a drunken bet. They pulled his cock through the opening in his pants and worked their tongues up and down his shaft together.
He ran his hands through their tits, massaging them and playing with their hardening nipples.
When he was close to climax, Sophie shoved his whole dick in her mouth to capture all his semen. With an ecstatic jolt of his hips, sperm came gushing out in her mouth.
She quickly turned to Jessica and kissed her, sharing the cum in both their mouths before going to the ex and kissing him too, allowing him to taste his cum and their mouths together.
They still laughed about it years later.
“Do you even remember his name?” Jess asked once.
“No,” Sophie said. “But I remember he couldn’t believe what happened.”
Those were the days.
Before husbands. Before bruises.
Jess didn’t hesitate. She took the week off work.
The other girls at the local gentlemen’s club didn’t mind covering for her. That was the thing about that place, chaotic, yes, but loyal in its own weird way.
Her boss, John, sighed over the phone but agreed.
“Just don’t disappear on me, Jess,” he said. “You know the regulars ask for you.”
“I’ll be back,” she replied. “Family emergency.”
For the next few days, they stayed close. Movies played in the background while Sophie talked. And talked.
“He says I push him,” Sophie whispered one night, staring at the ceiling. “He says I make him feel small.”
“That’s not your job,” Jess replied. “You’re his wife, not his punching bag.”
“I just… I want him to be different,” Sophie said. “I want the version of him I married. The one who looked at me like I was everything.”
Jess sighed softly. “You can’t love someone into being a better person.”
They hadn’t been intimate in over three months. Daniel’s drinking left him passed out most nights. When he wasn’t, he was irritable and unable to keep a boner. He grew frustrated. Blaming her.
Sophie’s emotions were all over the place. Rage. Tears. Silence. Laughter at inappropriate moments. Then anger again.
It was like watching someone unravel in slow motion.
By Friday night, Jess had to go back to work.
Her phone rang around noon.
“Some of your regulars are asking for you,” John said. “I already told them you’d be in tonight.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “Fine, John. But don’t say I never do anything for you.”
She hung up and went looking for Sophie.
“Hey, Soph,” she started gently, walking into the living room. “I’m sorry, but my boss needs me to come in tonight.”
She stopped.
Sophie was on the couch again. Crying. A half-empty glass of wine in her hand.
“No, no, no,” Jess said, kneeling in front of her.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“I just feel stupid,” Sophie sobbed. “I let it happen. Over and over.”
“Listen to me,” Jess said firmly. “You’re not stupid. You’re hurt.”
She stood up. “Go get changed. You’re coming with me.”
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes,” Jess said. “You’re not staying here alone, spiraling. You can sit in the back. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Sophie hesitated.
But deep down, she didn’t want to be alone.
They got ready together like old times.
Jess did Sophie’s makeup carefully, covering the fading bruise.
“You’re still the hottest one in the room,” Jess muttered.
Sophie gave a small laugh. “That’s definitely not true.”
“In my car, it is.”
In the car, Sophie stared out the window.
“What if he calls?” she asked quietly.
“Then don’t answer.”
“What if he’s sorry?”
Jess glanced at her. “He’s always sorry.”
Silence filled the car.
“I miss who he was,” Sophie whispered.
Jess softened. “I know.”
The gentlemen’s club was already busy when they arrived. Music pulsed through the walls. Laughter. The low hum of conversation. Neon lights reflecting off polished floors.
Women moved confidently through the crowd, tops off, slipping folded bills from eager hands into their garters and waistbands. Perfume mixed with cologne and alcohol in the air.
Jess leaned toward Sophie, seeing her almost about to break down again. “There’s a private room in the back. You can sit there. No one will bother you.”
She left her at the bar for a moment while she finished her next dance.
Jessica had always been blessed with a stunning body. Her teardrop double D breasts and tight peach-shaped ass made her a favorite at the club. When she got undressed, the money started flying in as she shoved her soft, succulent breasts in the face of the patrons. Her scent and hard nipples made each of them crave her more and more.
Just as she pushed her tits in another customer's face, the song ended, and she went back to check on her friend.
She went towards the hallway that led to the private rooms. She could hear sniffling from behind door 3, lodged right in between 2 and 4, which were apparently in use. The rooms were not particularly large, perhaps the size of a medium closet. She knocked on the door and opened it slightly, seeing Sophie curled up, crying again, trying not to ruin her makeup.
Jess shut the door behind her and sat beside her.
“Hey,” she said gently, pulling her into a hug. “Listen to me. Loosen up. Forget about that asshole.”
Sophie pulled back slightly. “How?”
“You start by remembering who you were before him.”
Sophie wiped her face.
“For five minutes,” Jess continued, “just be that girl again. The one who didn’t need anyone.”
For the first time in weeks, Sophie felt like maybe she could believe it.
As the two sat there sharing a smile, they saw a tiny circular shape being removed from the wall.
Jess knew that these rooms were used for pleasing certain clients, making sure they returned.
The hole was quickly replaced with a large, thick black dick. The shock and confusion on Sophie's face were clearly visible, but before she could react, Jess said: “Listen, I know you might not feel up to it, but this could be a good way for you to start moving on.”
Sophie sat there speechless as Jess reached her hand over to the cock and began to stroke it. “C’mon.. It'll be just like college.”
The dick grew longer and harder in her hand until it reached 8 inches. Jess pulled out a condom from her boot and placed it in her mouth before swallowing his dick to put it on.
Jess began to suck up and down on the thick black shaft using her spit and tongue to swirl around the tip.
Jess closed her eyes as she choked on the girth of his massive tool. When she opened her eyes, she saw Sophie's hands on his large, round balls with her face close to his dick. “Wanna try?”
Jess said as she pulled her mouth off his dick and shifted it towards Sophie. “I want to move on,” she said. “I’ve never seen one this big before. But I definitely don't want to waste it.”
Sophie began to stroke the penis, using Jess’s saliva to glide her hand along. She looked at it in admiration and began to lick different sides of his shaft. She continued to look as lust filled her eyes, and she took the condom off his dick.
She began to use her tongue to circle the head of his cock and enter his slit.
She tried to get as far down on it as she could, but only ended up halfway before gagging.
With a gurgle and a grunt, she pulled off and spit on his dick, using it to continue to stroke him before putting his delicious cock back in her mouth.
Jess was a little stunned, but was not about to stand on the sidelines. She used her hands to massage his testicles, rubbing them in a circular motion and squeezing them occasionally.
She licked the crease of his sac before taking both his balls in her mouth, using her tongue to massage each and sucking them into her mouth with a natural force.
Both of them working his shaft and balls together felt so good that they could hear an audible moan coming from him.
The sloppy saliva from Sophie's blowjob dripped from his dick onto Jess’s face and tits.
The sound of sucking was too intense, and Sophie could feel his dick twitch in her mouth.
She knew he was about to cum and looked Jess in the eyes as they both knew what Sophie was thinking.
She needed validation; she needed revenge.
She wanted her husband to hurt the way she had.
She took out her phone and began recording.
She moaned with the black dick in her mouth as she engorged herself on his cock.
She wanted to take his nut; she needed to. She said, “MISTER, OHH PLEASE BLOW YOUR BIG BBC LOAD IN MY MOUTH… I WANT ALL YOUR CUM”.
She continued to suck until she took a large load of cum in her mouth.
Usually, when her husband came in her mouth, she spat it out. Yet this was different; she swirled it in her mouth before turning to Jess and kissing her.
“Just like college, right?” Sophie said sarcastically. Jess leaned in for a more passionate kiss as she grabbed the phone from Sophie: “Just like college.”
She stopped the recording and began to grab Sophie's breast as Sophie did the same. Their tongues swirled the cum together, mixing it with each of their tastes.
Jess opened her eyes and saw that the dick was now getting hard again … she smiled and said,
“How about we really make him hurt,” as she leaned further into Sophie, pushing her in front of his now fully erect penis.