There I was, standing next to the bed, my fiancé lingering by the door, while Sara, my ex-girlfriend and the woman with whom he cheated on me, moved closer to me. Her presence felt like an intrusion into the intimacy of our bedroom, and I had to remind myself that I had asked her to be here.

It had been almost an eternity since I last saw her, but it still felt like it was just yesterday. Our time together, though short-lived, was marked by a chemistry that surpassed any other relationship I had experienced. Despite wanting to be mad at Sara, the attraction that still lingered between us drew me to her without my consent.

The way the fabric of her little black dress clung to her, accentuating her hourglass figure, made it nearly impossible for me to breathe. She looked at me through long, false eyelashes, her blue pools of desire hypnotizing me. Her mouth was slightly open, and she ran her tongue over her lower lip, no doubt to further tempt me. It worked. All I could think about was kissing her.

Memories of the passion we shared came crashing down on me like a tsunami. It was a mixture of nostalgia and yearning for what had been, knowing deep down that we could never go back. She burned that bridge by sleeping with my fiancé behind my back. My body tensed as if getting ready for an attack, and I took a deep breath, reminding myself of the mission at hand. I needed to find out what she meant to him, and for that, I had to keep up with this charade.

My fiancé stood there like a statue as I struggled with the whirlwind of emotions. His eyes were dark and filled with an emotion that was difficult to discern as they flickered between me and her, as if looking for a way to relieve the mounting tension. He was still close enough to touch her, but his posture was reserved, as if he were aware I could snap at any moment. 

Sara approached me, and the room seemed to shrink as the air became thick with jasmine and vanilla—her signature scent. The weight of our shared history pressed down on me, tempting me to throw caution into the wind and fuck her again. Sara was a fantastic lover. Her primal desire for my body knew no bounds as she worshiped every inch of me, and I missed her intense passion and the way she made me feel alive. But I couldn't ignore the reasons why we had broken up in the first place and how she had betrayed me since. Though I may have forgiven someone who deceived me once, if they did it again, my heart would lock them out for good.

"Anna," Sara whispered, her voice betraying a tremor of uncertainty.

She took another step towards me, her eyes searching for something in my eyes, but I wasn't willing to let her see past the walls I'd erected to keep her from ever hurting me again. Only my fiancé now could tear down those barriers if I still thought him worthy after tonight. I stopped her in her tracks by lifting my hand, drawing an unspoken boundary in the air between us.

Sara came to a halt, a mere breath away from me, but there was a chasm between us that seemed impossible to bridge. I could see the flicker of bewilderment in her piercing blue eyes, which had once drawn me in so easily.

A whirlwind of emotions swirled around us, humming with the unsaid and unresolved. My ten-year relationship with my boyfriend was on the line, and Sara was the catalyst that brought us to this point. Her presence in our lives had caused a schism, forcing us to confront the cracks in our relationship's foundation that we had ignored for far too long. I had the ability to either repair those cracks or allow them to grow until they shattered the home we had built together.

There was no other option—the game had to be played, and the stakes had never been higher. Every move I made had the potential to heal or destroy.

"Undress him," I said firmly. In stark contrast to my insecurity, my voice resonated with authority, echoing in the small room.

Their eyes widened in surprise at my order. My fiancé, who had never seen me take such a commanding position before, seemed perplexed. Although I was a submissive, I frequently took the initiative, guiding Sara through her first encounters with another woman, but even she seemed taken aback by the intensity of my dominance.

Sara paused, her lips quivering slightly, and her hands fluttered nervously. It was as if she were cautiously navigating a minefield, fearful that a misstep in this intricate dance of our intertwined past and present would result in disaster. And she was right to be cautious. Nothing is more dangerous than a woman with a broken heart and nothing to lose.

"Undress him." My words dripped like honeyed poison from my lips, luring her into a dangerous game of desire and power.

Sara paused for a moment, her gaze locked with mine, before slowly approaching him. Her fingers trembled slightly as they found the buttons on his shirt. She slowly undid each one, revealing his bare, toned chest, and he maintained eye contact with me even as she tentatively reached for his jeans, carefully unzipping them. He stepped out of them with a deliberate slowness, now standing in his boxers in the dim lighting of the bedroom.

The tension was as thick as a fog on a crisp autumn morning as we tried to maintain the delicate balance of desires and uncertainties. Sara gave me a fleeting look, as if she were waiting for a sign—a confirmation that I wanted her to continue.

I gave a small nod, a simple gesture that carried the weight of my unspoken approval. Her eyes glowed with a renewed sense of purpose, despite her hesitation. She moved in closer, her fingers tracing the outline of my fiancé's boxer's waistband. He stood motionless, his gaze never leaving mine, as if seeking reassurance that I really wanted this to happen.

My heart pounded in my chest, a tumultuous rhythm reflecting the chaos of my emotions. Yes, there was pain, but beneath it there was a smoldering ember of something else—a desire to reclaim control, to assert my presence in a relationship that had slipped through my fingers.

As Sara slowly lowered his boxers, revealing his half-erect cock, I realized that this moment was about more than just them or even us as a couple. It was a reclaiming of self, a declaration of my place in this tangled story—I was the orchestrator, holding the reins of a situation that was fraught with complexity and past hurts.

The boxers slid to the floor, leaving him exposed to my scrutiny. He stood there, vulnerable, his usual confidence replaced by a raw openness I hadn't seen in him in a long time.

"Kick off your heels and kneel in front of him."

Sara's compliance was almost immediate this time, the sharp click of her heels echoing throughout the room as they hit the floor. She descended gracefully, assuming a position of submission before him. The atmosphere in the room changed as a result of this act, and he looked at her, his expression a mix of surprise and something unreadable. It wasn't the same loving expression he gave me when I was kneeling at his feet, submissive and obedient. This new look held a hint of curiosity and possibly even admiration, as if he had just discovered a hidden side of Sara that piqued his interest, and it hurt me to see him react this way to her.

I couldn't help but feel jealous, as if I'd been replaced in his eyes. It was a painful reminder that our bond wasn't as strong as it once was. His gaze returned to me, looking for signs of my emotions, but he couldn't find any on my face. I had mastered the art of burying my true feelings deep within myself.

Sara kneeled there, the tension in her body reflecting her own internal conflict: a desire to please, to redeem herself, mixed with a palpable fear of crossing unseen lines.

"Suck his cock."

Sara obediently leaned forward, wrapping her delicate hand around his shaft. There was an unexpected sense of control for me as I stood there issuing commands that were obeyed. It was a far cry from the helplessness I had felt after learning of their affair. Now, in this carefully crafted scenario, I was the one dictating the terms, in charge of how things would play out.

Sara began to stroke him slowly, her movements deliberate, almost reverent. Under her touch, his cock hardened to full rigidity, throbbing with desire. Did he want more than my touch? Was our love strong enough? Despite my doubts and jealousy, I couldn't deny that watching another woman touch my fiancé so intimately was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen.

Her pink tongue darted out, teasing the bulbous head of his member and eliciting a low moan from him. His intense gaze burned into her as she drew him deeper into rapture with each flick of her soft tongue. It was a spectacle that both aroused and disturbed me, leaving me torn between wanting to join them or dragging her by the hair away from him.

He let out a low, guttural moan that reverberated through the room as her wet tongue danced along the length of his pulsating shaft, leaving a dripping trail of saliva. I could feel the intensity of their connection, and an uneasy feeling crept over me that I was crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed. Sara was only doing what I told her to do, tapping into my deepest desires, and the pulsating heat between my thighs became impossible to ignore. 

In a lustful frenzy, her plump, velvety lips engulfed him, greedily taking him into her mouth with insatiable desire. Knowing Sara wasn't a fan of blowjobs, I had a wicked thought—was she performing for my pleasure?

As I watched them, my black thongs grew damp with arousal. The wetness seeped through the thin fabric, trickling down my inner thighs, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from the sight before me. Could I ever match the pleasure she brings him? Would the taste of her linger in his mind indefinitely, like a ghost in our relationship? In my heart, these opposing emotions—desire entwined with doubt—swirled chaotically.

His lustful gaze locked on mine, igniting the submissive part of me that yearned to please him. I couldn't just stand there and watch as the need to prove myself consumed every fiber of my being.

As I got closer, my heartbeat quickened, each step a silent battle for his affections. I desperately needed proof that I am the one he desires above all else—that he may fuck others but will only love me—a validation that would put my mind at ease.

As soon as I got to them, Sara's eyes locked with mine, and I felt the need to run my fingers through her smooth hair, guiding her head as she pleasured him.

"Take him deeper," I ordered.

Her eyes became dark with desire, like a stormy sea on a moonlit night. Even though she was more dominant, I could tell she enjoyed being controlled by me. Sara obeyed, taking him deeper into her mouth, and my fingers tightened in her hair as I reveled in my power over both of them.

As I gently pushed her head forward, her face moved closer to his groin, her lips tightly wrapped around him. The power I wielded in this situation was enticing, a twisted satisfaction that temporarily obscured the pain and betrayal I had suffered.

"You're such a good slut," I murmured.

"Do you like sucking on my boyfriend's cock?" I asked, my words dripping with possessiveness.

"Be a good girl and take him down your throat," I whispered.

Her gasps and muffled cries only added to my pleasure as she took him deeper, her nose brushing against his pubic hair. My hand controlled the speed and depth of her head's movements. As she struggled to take him down her throat, tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. I pushed her to her breaking point with each thrust, reveling in my dominance over her.

His cock disappeared completely into her mouth, and she eagerly welcomed it, doing her best to suppress her gag reflex. Watching her struggle brought me a sadistic pleasure, a feeling I wouldn't normally enjoy if she hadn't cheated with him.

As she swallowed his cock, my fiancé's eyes were ablaze with a raw mix of hunger and satisfaction. Seeing her cater to his needs gave me a masochistic thrill, which should have raised concerns in me, but the intensity of the moment washed away any reservations, engulfing me in the forbidden energy that pulsed between them.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as Sara continued to pleasure him, her dedication visible in every desperate gulp of air, and I could feel myself getting wetter by the second, a steady flow of arousal dripping down my thighs.

"I want you to cum in her mouth," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing.

As my words sank in, he gazed at me with a lustful mix of disbelief and desire. Without hesitation, Sara surrendered to my command, her tongue teasing his throbbing shaft with wet, hungry abandon. Each sensual slurp echoed throughout the room as he delved deeper into her willing mouth, and I could tell he was losing control.

His face contorted with pleasure as she devoured him, her mouth eagerly teasing and sucking on his pulsating member. She had a way of driving him insane with her expert tongue and plump, seductive lips, expertly caressing every inch of his throbbing shaft. The intensity of his desire was visible in the way he groaned, unable to resist her alluring touch as she drew him closer and closer to ecstasy.

Her sweet moans only fueled his excitement as he surrendered completely to her rhythm that I dictated, thrusting deep into her warm, welcoming mouth with an intensity that matched the fire in her eyes.

Her sweet moans fueled his excitement, and he surrendered to the rhythm that I dictated, thrusting deep into her warm, welcoming mouth with an intensity that matched the fire in her eyes. His body tensed, and he exploded into her mouth with a loud grunt.

"Swallow," I ordered.

As I watched Sara gulp down every last drop of my boyfriend's cum, savoring the taste of his pleasure, my core throbbed with a growing need. I wanted to feel his throbbing shaft inside me and the intensity he had just unleashed in her mouth.

Her gaze was fixed on him as she licked his lips clean, leaving no trace. She smirked as she released his semi-soft cock from between those plush lips, then mischievously looked up at me.

We weren't done for the night; this was only the beginning.

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