I didn’t mean for it to happen. I swear.
It all started the moment I walked in on my daughter’s boyfriend of two years and his entire college team jerking off to a porn video in my living room. Apparently they thought no one was home.
I had been at the store longer than planned. The house was supposed to be empty—Emily was still on campus for another three days, my husband was on one of his endless “business trips” that never involved business, and Jake had texted earlier saying he’d swing by alone to grab a textbook he’d left in Emily’s room. I expected quiet. Maybe the low hum of the refrigerator. Not the wet, rhythmic sound of six fists working six hard c***s and the unmistakable moans of a woman being spit-roasted on the big-screen TV.
I froze in the doorway, grocery bags dangling f
