Olivia Austin

Olivia Austin struts through the door in fuck-me heels she paid for with her man's card. The second she clocks the wrong bottle chilling in the fridge her face twists. "You can't get one goddamn thing right," she snaps. Then she drops onto the couch and orders Cuckboi between her toes. His hands work her arches. The heels have left angry red stripes across her feet, but by the time he's finished the stripes are gone and Cuckboi's tongue is dragging along her sweaty soles. She laughs, reaches for the lipstick, and scrawls C-U-C-K-B-O-I in fat letters across his bare chest. "Go fetch me my Bulls," she says. Two messages, two big cocks sliding into their cars. Twenty minutes later the doorbell rings. Cuckboi answers in nothing but that scarlet brand, leads the guys straight to the bedroom, and watches as they strip his wife on the mattress he pays for. They fold her in half, drill her deep, pound the air from her lungs while he sits in the chair, hard, useless. When they finish, ropes of thick cum paint her tits and her open cunt. She curls a finger, beckons him forward. "Clean," she purrs, and he crawls onto the stained sheets without a word.