The next day passed in a blur of anticipation. I went through the motions of my routine, my mind wandering back to the previous night's events at every opportunity. The quiet hum of the refrigerator had been replaced by the memory of Jenny's moans, the emptiness of the apartment no longer so stark. Yet, as the hours ticked by, I found myself craving more than just the memory of her taste.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, breaking the silence. I rushed over, heart pounding, expecting another heated encounter. But instead, it was a simple text from Jenny: "Did you touch yourself last night?"

I paused, the question hanging in the air like the faint scent of her perfume that still lingered on the couch. My cheeks flushed as I typed out my reply, a lie that felt surprisingly good. "No, I didn't," I sent back, my thumb hovering over the screen, the ghost of her touch still tingling in my fingertips.

Her response was swift and to the point: "Good Mr. George. Hang on till tomorrow. I've got something special planned. And better don't sniff those panties." The cheeky emoji at the end of the message made me chuckle despite the burning desire that her words had rekindled.

The following evening, the knock I had been awaiting with a mix of trepidation and excitement echoed through the hallway. I took a deep breath and opened the door to find Jenny, her hair a wild mane of red around her face, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. She breezed in, carrying a large smart tablet in her arms, and settled on the couch as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Mr. George," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement, "I hope you've been a good boy and haven't touched yourself today."

My cheeks flushed, and I nodded, my voice a little too eager. "I haven't."

Jenny set the tablet on the coffee table and leaned closer, her eyes searching mine. "Good," she murmured, her hand sliding down to my thigh. "Because tonight, we're going to try something new."

Her words hung in the air like a question, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation. "What?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Jenny leaned back, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well," she began, her eyes glinting with mischief, "I've been thinking about our little arrangement, and I had an idea."

"Oh?" I replied, my heart racing with anticipation.

Her hand slid further up my thigh, her fingertips lightly grazing the fabric of my pants. "You see, George," she said, her voice a purr, "You are a voyeur and I was wondering if you're also bisexual."

Her question caught me off guard, and I felt my cheeks redden. "No," I replied, my voice a little too quick, a little too certain. "I don't think so."

Jenny's smile grew, and she leaned back into the couch, her hand still resting on my thigh. "It's okay," she said, her voice soothing. "It's just a thought I had."

Her hand slid up to my cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But for now, let's stick with what we know you like." She patted my cheek, her touch surprisingly tender. "Strip for me, George. I want to see all of you, I must know your reaction."

I hesitated, the weight of my loneliness and the reality of the situation settling on my shoulders. But the hunger in her eyes was undeniable, and I found myself eager to please. With trembling hands, I removed my clothes, my eyes never leaving hers. Her gaze was unflinching, a mix of power and excitement that sent a shiver down my spine. When I was naked, she nodded, satisfied with what she saw.

Jenny picked up the tablet, her thumb swiping across the screen. "Take a seat," she instructed, pointing to the chair opposite the couch. I did as she said, my heart pounding in anticipation. The chair felt cold and hard against my bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of her touch. She turned the device towards me, revealing an image so vivid it was as if she were there in the flesh. It was a nearly lifesize picture of her naked pussy, glistening with wetness, her fingers playing with the swollen folds.

Her voice was a siren's call as she spoke. "You remember this, don't you?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "The way it felt against your mouth, the taste of me on your tongue."

Jenny leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she tapped the screen of the tablet. "You know, George," she began, her voice a low purr, "I've been thinking about what you said."

My heart raced, unsure of what she meant, but the images on the screen made it clear. The screen flicked to a new image, and my eyes widened at the sight before me. There, nestled between her thighs, was a cock that was anything but average. It was large, veiny, and proudly erect, a stark contrast to the delicate pink of her pussy.

"Meet Benjamin," Jenny said with a wink, and I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and trepidation at the sight of it. I had never seen a man's penis so close before, let alone one belonging to a stranger who had been the subject of my nocturnal fantasies for months.

The room grew silent as we both stared at the image, the only sound being the steady tick of the clock on the wall. The weight of her words settled over us, a challenge laid bare in the stark light of the room. The image of the cock was mesmerizing, a stark contrast to the delicate pink folds of her sex. It was a powerful symbol of the youth and vitality that I had lost, and she knew it.

Her gaze drifted down to my crotch, where my erection was clearly visible. Jenny grinned, a knowing look in her eyes. "Well, George," she said, her voice filled with a teasing lilt. "You don't seem to be turned off by looking at cocks, do you?" She leaned closer, her breath warm against my cheek. "Quite the opposite, actually."

The next image on the tablet was even more explicit, the tip of the man's cock resting at the entrance to her glistening pussy. A bead of precum was visible, and the anticipation in the room was palpable. "Is this what you imagined, George?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper. "Is this what you dream about at night?"

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away from the screen. She smirked, knowing she had my full attention, and tapped the screen again. The video began to play, the sound of her wetness filling the room as the cock disappeared into her. She leaned back, her eyes never leaving mine, and began to touch herself, her fingers slipping in and out of her pussy with a grace that was both erotic and mesmerizing.

"You can touch yourself now, George," she said, her voice a soft purr. "But remember, no coming until I say so."

The video played on, a hypnotic dance of flesh and desire, as Jenny's hand moved in time with the rhythmic motion on the screen. I watched, transfixed, as the cock on the screen claimed her again and again, each stroke a silent taunt to my own arousal. My hand moved to my crotch, tentatively at first, but her words were a siren's call that I couldn't resist. I began to stroke my cock, my movements matching the rhythm of the man in the video, as Jenny's eyes never left me.

Her breathing grew heavier as she watched me, her own hand working faster between her legs. "You have no idea how that feels," she murmured, her voice a sweet agony. "He just fills me up so nicely. But I can tell you, George, when Benjamin fucks me, I'm thinking of you. I'm thinking of your tongue on my clit, how it makes me feel so alive."

The image of her with another man was a heady cocktail of anger and lust. I couldn't help but wonder if she was telling the truth, if she really was thinking of me while her boyfriend claimed her. The thought was maddening, but also incredibly erotic. I had never felt such a potent mix of emotions—desire, anger, and a strange sense of ownership that had no place in a situation like this.

I watched the video, my hand moving faster and faster, my eyes glued to the screen as Benjamin's cock plunged into Jenny's welcoming pussy. It was a beautiful sight, one that made me ache with need. Her moans filled the room, a siren's song that called to me, and I felt myself growing closer to the edge.

The young cock on the screen was a thing of beauty—firm, long, and unyielding, claiming her with each thrust. It was a stark contrast to my own, which felt both inadequate and irrelevant at that moment. As Benjamin's rhythm grew more intense, so did the ache in my chest, a confusing mix of envy and arousal that I couldn't quite place. The sight of him pounding into Jenny, her body stretching to accommodate his girth, was almost too much to bear.

The thought of being so close to it—to her, to them—suddenly sent me over the edge. I groaned, my hand moving in a frenzy, and my cum shot out with surprising force. It arced through the air, landing with a hot splatter across her tablet and into her lap. Her eyes widened in shock for a brief second before a grin spread across her face. The screen was obscured by my release, but the sound of their passionate cries remained, a stark reminder of what I was doing in the presence of such intimacy.

"But Mr. George!" Jenny chastised playfully, her eyes gleaming. "You weren't supposed to come until I said so."

The words hit me like a slap in the face, bringing me back to reality. I had lost control, and she had noticed. The smile on her face told me she wasn't upset, but rather, she was enjoying this newfound power over me.

Jenny reached over, stopping the video with a playful tap of her finger. She pulled the tablet closer, the image of her and Benjamin's passionate encounter now a blur of white on the screen. "Looks like you've made quite a mess," she said, her voice a sultry purr.

Before I could apologize or even react, she leaned forward, her hand held the tablet just inches from my face, the warmth of the device mixing with the scent of our mingled arousal. "Since you seem to like cum so much," she murmured, her breath hot against my cheek, "I think it's only fair you clean up after yourself."

Her words sent a bolt of shock through me, but I found myself complying almost automatically. I took the tablet from her, my trembling hands fumbling slightly with the slickness of my own desire. As I brought the device to my lips, my tongue darted out, eager to clean away the mess I had made. The taste of my cum was bitter, but mixed with the faint scent of her arousal, it was intoxicating.

As I lapped up the last of it, I heard the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter. My eyes snapped up to meet hers, and I realized she had been filming me the entire time. The screen of the phone in her hand revealed the image she had captured: my face, flushed and desperate, with Benjamin's cock still displayed in the background. I felt a jolt of embarrassment, but Jenny's grin only grew wider.

"What are you doing?" I managed to choke out, my voice thick with desire.

Jenny winked, her expression a blend of mischief and satisfaction. "Just documenting your process, Mr. George," she said, her voice a purr.

"My process?" I echoed, feeling a mix of confusion and arousal at her words.

Jenny's grin grew wider, and she leaned back into the couch, her hand still stroking her phone. "Mm-hmm," she said, her eyes never leaving mine. "The process of turning you from straight into a little bi-curious neighbor. You were virtually licking cum from my boyfriend's cock. Something he may actually like for real.“

Her words were a punch to the gut, but the fire in my cock only grew hotter. I couldn't believe the turn our conversation had taken, but I also couldn't ignore the thrill it brought me. She set her phone aside, the screen still glowing with the proof of my humiliation, and pointed down at her crotch. A few rogue drops of my cum had landed there, a silent testament to my lack of self-control.

Jenny's eyes bore into mine, a silent challenge that I found myself accepting without thought. I leaned in, my nose hovering just above the sticky mess. The scent of our combined arousals was intoxicating, a heady cocktail that made my mouth water. I knew what she wanted, and despite the fear that whispered in the back of my mind, I found myself eager to give it to her.

With a tentative swipe of my tongue, I tasted myself on her, the bitterness of my climax mingling with the sweetness of her juices. Jenny's eyes widened, a thrill of excitement crossing her features.

"Well?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper. "How does it feel to lick your own cum off another guy's pussy?"

I didn't respond, too lost in the sensation to form coherent thoughts. My tongue slid along her folds, savoring the mix of flavors. Jenny's hand was still on my shoulder, her grip firm and reassuring as she watched me with a mix of amusement and hunger. The taste was foreign yet familiar, a strange cocktail that spoke of desire and submission.

"Mm, that's it, George," she murmured, her voice a sweet symphony of satisfaction. "But tell me, would you mind if this was another man’s cum instead?"

The question hit me like a sledgehammer, the thought of tasting another man's seed both terrifying and exhilarating. I couldn't believe she'd go there, but the look in her eyes told me she was dead serious.

"Jenny," I began, my voice shaking slightly, "I don't know if that's something I'm ready for."

Her eyes searched mine, a smug smile playing on her lips. "It's okay, George," she said, her voice a velvet purr. "We'll take it slowly."

With a graceful motion, she stood, the dampness of her pussy leaving a sticky trail on my cheek as she disengaged from our embrace. She smoothed her nightgown down over her legs, the fabric clinging to the moisture she'd shared with me. "But for now, I think it's time for bed," she said, her tone one of finality. She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. "Good night, Mr. George," she whispered, the promise of future delights in her voice.

Later, my phone pinged, a silent beacon in the sea of solitude. I picked it up, the screen illuminating my face with a soft light. "Dinner tomorrow, George?" she asked, the innocence in her text belying the kinky suggestion. "Benjamin and I will come over to your place. We'll bring everything we need."

My heart skipped a beat. This was more than I had ever dared to imagine, and the thought of having them both in my apartment was both thrilling and terrifying. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself before responding. "Sure," I typed, playing it cool despite the tumult of emotions raging within me. "What time?"

"Seven," she replied, her tone brisk and matter-of-fact. "Don't bother. We'll bring everything."

The anticipation of their visit was a slow burn in my chest, a mix of excitement and dread. The thought of Jenny and Benjamin in my apartment, sharing a meal, was more intimate than I had ever allowed myself to imagine. What did she have planned? Was this just a friendly dinner, or was it a prelude to something more?