My wife traded me by the neighbor's son Ch. 09
of
Queen Sarah
genre
cuck
One week had passed since the creation of the “Building Husbands” group chat, and the new reality had settled over our apartment like a thick, humid fog that refused to lift.
I came home from work that Friday evening utterly drained, the weight of another $400 payment to Brad still pressing heavily on both my bank account and my chest. Kristen was already waiting for me in the bedroom, wearing nothing but one of my oversized white button-down shirts, left open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath. The moment I stepped through the door, she gave me that soft, knowing smile and patted the space beside her on the bed.
“Come here, baby,” she said gently. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
I sat down heavily. Before I could even loosen my tie, she climbed onto my lap, straddling me with practiced ease. The shirt fell open completely, revealing her naked body underneath. She was already soaked. I could feel the slick heat of her pussy pressing against my slacks. Without a word, she reached down, unzipped me, and freed my throbbing cock. Then, as had become our new ritual, she wrapped just two fingers around my aching shaft and began to tease me with that slow, torturously gentle rhythm.
“Mmm… there’s my sweet husband’s little pee-pee,” she whispered, pressing soft kisses along my neck while her fingers glided languidly up and down my length. “So hard already. You’ve been waiting for this all week, haven’t you?”
I groaned quietly, my hips twitching upward into her touch.
“Kristen… fuck… it feels so good,” I breathed.
She smiled against my skin and continued her unhurried exploration, never granting me the friction I desperately craved.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” she murmured, her voice warm and intimate. “Something I want to do for Brad.”
I tensed, but her fingers never faltered in their delicate dance.
“What… what is it?” I asked, nerves already twisting in my stomach.
Kristen leaned back slightly so she could look into my eyes, her fingers still slowly pumping my cock with maddening care.
“I want to start an OnlyFans account,” she said, her tone casual yet bright with excitement. “I want to post videos and pictures of myself… for money. And I want to send every single dollar I make straight to Brad.”
My breath caught in my throat. My cock pulsed hard between her fingers.
“OnlyFans?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Kristen… you’re serious?”
She nodded, her smile turning shy but clearly thrilled by the idea.
“Yes, baby. I’ve been thinking about it a lot this week. Brad does so much for me… for us. He makes me feel incredible. He fucks me so good. He keeps me satisfied in ways you never could. I feel like he deserves more than just the monthly fee from you. I want to contribute too. I want to make money with my body and give it all to him.”
Her fingers continued their slow, teasing rhythm as she spoke, gliding with expert tenderness.
“I could post solo videos… touching myself while I talk about how much better Brad’s cock feels. I could film close-ups of my pussy after he fucks me, still dripping with his cum. I could do comparisons… show how stretched and used I look after him, next to your little pee-pee. I think a lot of men would pay to see that, don’t you?”
I groaned louder, my hips jerking involuntarily.
“Kristen… that’s… that’s so humiliating,” I managed, my voice shaky. “You really want to show your body to strangers… just to give the money to Brad?”
She bit her lip, clearly growing more aroused by my reaction, and worked me with a slightly faster pace for a few moments before easing back into that deliberate, maddening slowness.
“Yes,” she whispered hotly. “I do. I want to be a good girl for him. I want to earn money with my tits, my ass, my pussy… all for Brad. Every subscription, every tip, every video sale—it all goes straight to him. Doesn’t that sound hot, Timmy?”
My cock was leaking steadily over her fingers now. I was breathing hard, torn between crushing shame and overwhelming arousal.
“I… I don’t know if I can handle that,” I whispered.
Kristen leaned in and kissed my neck again, her fingers never ceasing their gentle torment.
“You don’t have to decide right now, baby,” she murmured. “Just think about it while I play with you.”
She drew closer, her breath warm against my ear, and began describing everything in filthy, unhurried detail, so excited she was kinda repeating the same things:
“First, I want to do solo videos,” she whispered. “Me in our bed, legs spread wide, playing with my pussy while I talk about how much better Brad’s cock feels. Then creampie close-ups right after he fucks me—showing everyone how red and swollen I am, how his cum drips out of me. And the comparison videos… those are going to be my favorites. I’ll put your cock next to my stretched pussy on camera and laugh about how it doesn’t even touch the sides anymore.”
I groaned loudly, my hips bucking into her hand.
“Kristen… fuck…”
She smiled, clearly loving my reaction, and kept working my shaft with that merciless, edging rhythm.
“Can you imagine that, baby?” she whispered hotly. “Me on my back, legs spread, pussy still leaking Brad’s cum, while I hold your little pee-pee next to it and say ‘Look how much better Brad stretches me.’ I think that video will make a lot of money… and every cent goes straight to Brad.”
I was panting now, my cock throbbing painfully. The humiliation was so intense it made my head spin.
“Kristen… that’s so fucking degrading,” I whispered, voice cracking. “You’re really going to show the whole world how much better he is?”
She nodded, eyes bright with lust.
“Yes, baby. I am. And the best part? I’ll read the comments out loud to you while I play with your cock.”
She quickened her fingers for a few blissful seconds—just enough to make me gasp—then slowed again, holding me right on the agonizing edge.
“Tell me, Timmy,” she whispered, her voice dripping with arousal. “Does the idea of your wife starting an OnlyFans for Brad turn you on?”
I couldn’t think straight anymore.
“Yes…” I admitted in a broken whisper. “It does… but it also scares me.”
Kristen’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She sat up a little straighter on my lap, still slowly caressing me.
“Good boy,” she purred, kissing me deeply.
She gave my cock one last slow, firm squeeze before pulling her hand away, leaving me aching and denied.
“But not tonight,” she whispered with a wicked smile. “Tonight you’re going to think about it.”
She climbed off my lap, leaving my cock twitching desperately in the air, and gave me one last soft kiss on the forehead. Then she picked up her phone, still wearing nothing but my open button-down shirt, and climbed back onto the bed. She straddled my waist again, this time facing me, her wet pussy resting just above my still-hard cock. With a playful smile, she tapped on Brad’s contact and started a video call, putting it on speaker.
The phone rang twice.
Brad answered almost immediately. His face filled the screen—shirtless, lounging on his couch, looking relaxed and cocky. He grinned when he saw Kristen.
“Hey, Kristit,” he said, voice low and amused. “What’s up, baby? You look like you’re in a good mood.”
Kristen bit her lip, clearly excited, and angled the phone so Brad could see both of us.
“Hi, Brad,” she said sweetly. “I’m with Tim right now. We were talking… and I had an idea. I want to start an OnlyFans account. I want to post videos and pictures… and send all the money to you.”
Brad’s eyebrows rose slightly, but his grin widened, clearly pleased.
“Oh yeah?” he said, leaning back. “Tell me more.”
Kristen glanced down at me, her fingers casually returning to my cock, teasing me with slow, deliberate strokes while she spoke.
“I feel like you deserve more,” she said honestly. “You fuck me so much better than Tim ever could. I want to earn money with my body and give it all to you.”
Brad chuckled, low and satisfied.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said. “My little married slut wants to whore herself out online for me. Alright, here’s how it’s gonna work.”
He laid out his expectations clearly: at least four posts a week, variety in the content and every video ending with the reminder that all money goes straight to him. He also wanted at least one video a week where I held the phone while she filmed.
Kristen moaned softly as she listened, her fingers tightening around my cock.
“Yes, Brad,” she breathed. “I’ll do all of that. All the money goes straight to you. Every cent.”
Brad leaned closer to the camera.
“Good girl. Start tomorrow if you can. Film a teaser—you on your knees, telling everyone why you’re doing this for me. And Tim…” He looked straight at me. “You’re gonna help her. Understood?”
I swallowed hard.
“…Yes,” I whispered.
Brad smirked. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go make me some money, Kristit. I expect the first video by tomorrow night.”
The call ended. Kristen set the phone down and looked at me, her eyes shining with excitement.
“See?” she whispered. “Brad’s already planning everything. He wants me to be his little OnlyFans whore. And you’re going to help me, aren’t you, baby?”
She leaned down and kissed me softly, her fingers never stopping their slow rhythm.
“Tomorrow we start filming,” she murmured against my lips.
---
The next evening, Kristen didn’t waste any time.
She had me sit on the edge of the bed while she set up her laptop on the nightstand. She was wearing nothing but a tiny black thong and one of Brad’s oversized T-shirts that she’d “borrowed” from his place. The shirt hung off one shoulder, exposing the soft curve of her breast.
“Come here, Timmy,” she said sweetly. “You’re going to help me create the account.”
I sat down, heart pounding. Kristen opened OnlyFans on her laptop and logged in with a new email.
“First—the username,” she said, typing slowly. “I was thinking @KristenForBrad… or maybe @BradOwnedWife. Which one sounds sluttier?”
I swallowed hard, my face burning.
“Kristen… this is so embarrassing,” I muttered.
She giggled and reached over, sliding her hand into my lap. She wrapped two fingers around my already-hard cock and began to caress me with that familiar, torturous slowness.
“Yes, it is,” she purred. “Brad wants it. Now help me choose.”
“@KristenForBrad,” I whispered shamefully.
“Good choice.” She typed it in. “Now the bio.”
She started typing out loud:
“Married hotwife who belongs to Brad. My husband pays the bills, but Brad owns my pussy. Every dollar I earn here goes straight to him. Watch me get ruined for my husband 💦 #Hotwife #Cuckold #ForBrad”
She read it back to me, her voice dripping with excitement.
“Too much?” she asked innocently, still slowly working my shaft.
I shook my head, unable to speak.
She smiled and continued.
“Profile picture next.”
She opened her gallery and scrolled through recent photos—most of them taken after Brad had fucked her. There was one of her on her knees with cum on her face, another with her legs spread showing her red, swollen pussy.
“Which one?” she asked, tilting the screen toward me. “The one with his cum on my face? Or the close-up of my used pussy?”
My cock twitched hard in her fingers.
“The… the cum one,” I whispered.
“Mmm, good boy,” she said, selecting it.
She stood up, pulled the T-shirt off completely, and posed for me—on all fours with her ass toward the camera, then on her back with her legs spread wide, fingers holding her pussy open.
“Take the pictures, Timmy,” she said, handing me her phone. “Make them look slutty.”
I took the photos with shaking hands while she posed, spreading herself and moaning softly.
When we were done, she sat back down next to me, still completely naked, and opened the first post.
“Caption time,” she said, leaning against my shoulder, her hand returning to my cock.
She typed while teasing me:
“First post: ‘Just started this account because my bull, Brad, deserves all my money. My husband knows and supports it 💕 Here’s a little preview of what my pussy looks like after Brad uses it. Every tip and subscription goes straight to him.’”
She added one more line: “My husband’s little pee-pee can’t satisfy me anymore.”
“There,” she said, hitting post. “The account is live. @KristenForBrad. All for him.”
She turned to me, her fingers still slowly pumping my leaking cock.
“Feel that, baby?” she whispered. “Every time someone subscribes or tips… that money is going straight into Brad’s pocket.”
---
The following evening, Kristen was ready to film the first real video.
She had cleared a space in the bedroom, lights dimmed, her phone set up on a small tripod. She was wearing nothing but a tiny black thong and one of Brad’s favorite T-shirts, the hem barely covering her ass.
“Ready, baby?” she asked, pulling me onto the bed beside her.
She climbed onto my lap, facing me, and reached down to wrap her fingers around my cock again. She began to stroke me slowly while she adjusted the camera so it would capture both of us.
“Hold the phone steady for me,” she whispered, guiding my hands to the sides of the tripod. “I want you in the frame too. I want everyone to see my husband holding the camera while I do this for Brad.”
I gripped the phone with trembling hands as the red recording light turned on.
Kristen looked straight into the lens, her expression sultry and confident.
“Hi everyone,” she said, smiling at the camera. “My name is Kristen, and I’m a married hotwife. This account is brand new, and I’m doing it for one reason only—to make money for my bull, Brad.”
She rocked her hips gently, letting her wet pussy brush against my stomach.
“My husband, Tim, is right here holding the phone for me. Say hi, baby.”
I swallowed hard.
“…Hi.”
Kristen giggled softly and kept working my cock, slow and deliberate.
“Tim knows his little pee-pee can’t satisfy me anymore. Brad’s cock is so much bigger, thicker, and better. When Brad fucks me, I feel completely full. I cum so hard for him… harder than I’ve ever cum for my husband.”
Her fingers tightened slightly, pumping me faster for a few seconds before slowing down again.
“Every single dollar I make on this account is going straight to Brad. Every subscription, every tip, every video sale—it all belongs to him. Because he owns my pussy now.”
She leaned forward slightly, giving the camera a better view of her breasts.
“I’m going to post solo videos, creampie close-ups, and comparison videos where I put Tim’s cock next to my stretched pussy so you can see how pathetic it looks compared to Brad’s.”
She looked down at me, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight.
“Tell them, Timmy,” she whispered. “Tell the camera how much better Brad’s cock is than yours.”
I was shaking, my face on fire.
“It’s… it’s better,” I whispered hoarsely. “Brad’s cock is much better than mine.”
Kristen moaned softly, clearly turned on by my humiliation.
“Good boy. See? Even my husband knows it. That’s why every dollar I earn here is going straight to Brad.”
She looked straight into the lens one last time, her voice dripping with lust.
“Thank you for subscribing to @KristenForBrad. All money goes to the man who owns this married pussy.”
She blew a kiss to the camera, then reached over and stopped the recording.
The room went quiet except for the sound of my heavy breathing and the slick sounds of her fingers still slowly teasing my cock.
Kristen turned to me, her face flushed with arousal and pride.
“There,” she whispered, kissing my cheek. “The first video is done. All for Brad.”
She kept caressing me gently, her eyes locked on mine.
“You did so good holding the phone for me, baby,” she murmured. “Did it turn you on? Hearing me tell the whole world that Brad’s cock is better than yours?”
I could only nod, my voice gone.
Kristen smiled tenderly and leaned in to kiss me deeply.
“Good boy,” she whispered against my lips. “Now let’s see how much money I can make for my bull.”
Want to read my others chapters and stories? Check on: patreon.com/queensarah
I came home from work that Friday evening utterly drained, the weight of another $400 payment to Brad still pressing heavily on both my bank account and my chest. Kristen was already waiting for me in the bedroom, wearing nothing but one of my oversized white button-down shirts, left open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath. The moment I stepped through the door, she gave me that soft, knowing smile and patted the space beside her on the bed.
“Come here, baby,” she said gently. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
I sat down heavily. Before I could even loosen my tie, she climbed onto my lap, straddling me with practiced ease. The shirt fell open completely, revealing her naked body underneath. She was already soaked. I could feel the slick heat of her pussy pressing against my slacks. Without a word, she reached down, unzipped me, and freed my throbbing cock. Then, as had become our new ritual, she wrapped just two fingers around my aching shaft and began to tease me with that slow, torturously gentle rhythm.
“Mmm… there’s my sweet husband’s little pee-pee,” she whispered, pressing soft kisses along my neck while her fingers glided languidly up and down my length. “So hard already. You’ve been waiting for this all week, haven’t you?”
I groaned quietly, my hips twitching upward into her touch.
“Kristen… fuck… it feels so good,” I breathed.
She smiled against my skin and continued her unhurried exploration, never granting me the friction I desperately craved.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” she murmured, her voice warm and intimate. “Something I want to do for Brad.”
I tensed, but her fingers never faltered in their delicate dance.
“What… what is it?” I asked, nerves already twisting in my stomach.
Kristen leaned back slightly so she could look into my eyes, her fingers still slowly pumping my cock with maddening care.
“I want to start an OnlyFans account,” she said, her tone casual yet bright with excitement. “I want to post videos and pictures of myself… for money. And I want to send every single dollar I make straight to Brad.”
My breath caught in my throat. My cock pulsed hard between her fingers.
“OnlyFans?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Kristen… you’re serious?”
She nodded, her smile turning shy but clearly thrilled by the idea.
“Yes, baby. I’ve been thinking about it a lot this week. Brad does so much for me… for us. He makes me feel incredible. He fucks me so good. He keeps me satisfied in ways you never could. I feel like he deserves more than just the monthly fee from you. I want to contribute too. I want to make money with my body and give it all to him.”
Her fingers continued their slow, teasing rhythm as she spoke, gliding with expert tenderness.
“I could post solo videos… touching myself while I talk about how much better Brad’s cock feels. I could film close-ups of my pussy after he fucks me, still dripping with his cum. I could do comparisons… show how stretched and used I look after him, next to your little pee-pee. I think a lot of men would pay to see that, don’t you?”
I groaned louder, my hips jerking involuntarily.
“Kristen… that’s… that’s so humiliating,” I managed, my voice shaky. “You really want to show your body to strangers… just to give the money to Brad?”
She bit her lip, clearly growing more aroused by my reaction, and worked me with a slightly faster pace for a few moments before easing back into that deliberate, maddening slowness.
“Yes,” she whispered hotly. “I do. I want to be a good girl for him. I want to earn money with my tits, my ass, my pussy… all for Brad. Every subscription, every tip, every video sale—it all goes straight to him. Doesn’t that sound hot, Timmy?”
My cock was leaking steadily over her fingers now. I was breathing hard, torn between crushing shame and overwhelming arousal.
“I… I don’t know if I can handle that,” I whispered.
Kristen leaned in and kissed my neck again, her fingers never ceasing their gentle torment.
“You don’t have to decide right now, baby,” she murmured. “Just think about it while I play with you.”
She drew closer, her breath warm against my ear, and began describing everything in filthy, unhurried detail, so excited she was kinda repeating the same things:
“First, I want to do solo videos,” she whispered. “Me in our bed, legs spread wide, playing with my pussy while I talk about how much better Brad’s cock feels. Then creampie close-ups right after he fucks me—showing everyone how red and swollen I am, how his cum drips out of me. And the comparison videos… those are going to be my favorites. I’ll put your cock next to my stretched pussy on camera and laugh about how it doesn’t even touch the sides anymore.”
I groaned loudly, my hips bucking into her hand.
“Kristen… fuck…”
She smiled, clearly loving my reaction, and kept working my shaft with that merciless, edging rhythm.
“Can you imagine that, baby?” she whispered hotly. “Me on my back, legs spread, pussy still leaking Brad’s cum, while I hold your little pee-pee next to it and say ‘Look how much better Brad stretches me.’ I think that video will make a lot of money… and every cent goes straight to Brad.”
I was panting now, my cock throbbing painfully. The humiliation was so intense it made my head spin.
“Kristen… that’s so fucking degrading,” I whispered, voice cracking. “You’re really going to show the whole world how much better he is?”
She nodded, eyes bright with lust.
“Yes, baby. I am. And the best part? I’ll read the comments out loud to you while I play with your cock.”
She quickened her fingers for a few blissful seconds—just enough to make me gasp—then slowed again, holding me right on the agonizing edge.
“Tell me, Timmy,” she whispered, her voice dripping with arousal. “Does the idea of your wife starting an OnlyFans for Brad turn you on?”
I couldn’t think straight anymore.
“Yes…” I admitted in a broken whisper. “It does… but it also scares me.”
Kristen’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She sat up a little straighter on my lap, still slowly caressing me.
“Good boy,” she purred, kissing me deeply.
She gave my cock one last slow, firm squeeze before pulling her hand away, leaving me aching and denied.
“But not tonight,” she whispered with a wicked smile. “Tonight you’re going to think about it.”
She climbed off my lap, leaving my cock twitching desperately in the air, and gave me one last soft kiss on the forehead. Then she picked up her phone, still wearing nothing but my open button-down shirt, and climbed back onto the bed. She straddled my waist again, this time facing me, her wet pussy resting just above my still-hard cock. With a playful smile, she tapped on Brad’s contact and started a video call, putting it on speaker.
The phone rang twice.
Brad answered almost immediately. His face filled the screen—shirtless, lounging on his couch, looking relaxed and cocky. He grinned when he saw Kristen.
“Hey, Kristit,” he said, voice low and amused. “What’s up, baby? You look like you’re in a good mood.”
Kristen bit her lip, clearly excited, and angled the phone so Brad could see both of us.
“Hi, Brad,” she said sweetly. “I’m with Tim right now. We were talking… and I had an idea. I want to start an OnlyFans account. I want to post videos and pictures… and send all the money to you.”
Brad’s eyebrows rose slightly, but his grin widened, clearly pleased.
“Oh yeah?” he said, leaning back. “Tell me more.”
Kristen glanced down at me, her fingers casually returning to my cock, teasing me with slow, deliberate strokes while she spoke.
“I feel like you deserve more,” she said honestly. “You fuck me so much better than Tim ever could. I want to earn money with my body and give it all to you.”
Brad chuckled, low and satisfied.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said. “My little married slut wants to whore herself out online for me. Alright, here’s how it’s gonna work.”
He laid out his expectations clearly: at least four posts a week, variety in the content and every video ending with the reminder that all money goes straight to him. He also wanted at least one video a week where I held the phone while she filmed.
Kristen moaned softly as she listened, her fingers tightening around my cock.
“Yes, Brad,” she breathed. “I’ll do all of that. All the money goes straight to you. Every cent.”
Brad leaned closer to the camera.
“Good girl. Start tomorrow if you can. Film a teaser—you on your knees, telling everyone why you’re doing this for me. And Tim…” He looked straight at me. “You’re gonna help her. Understood?”
I swallowed hard.
“…Yes,” I whispered.
Brad smirked. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go make me some money, Kristit. I expect the first video by tomorrow night.”
The call ended. Kristen set the phone down and looked at me, her eyes shining with excitement.
“See?” she whispered. “Brad’s already planning everything. He wants me to be his little OnlyFans whore. And you’re going to help me, aren’t you, baby?”
She leaned down and kissed me softly, her fingers never stopping their slow rhythm.
“Tomorrow we start filming,” she murmured against my lips.
---
The next evening, Kristen didn’t waste any time.
She had me sit on the edge of the bed while she set up her laptop on the nightstand. She was wearing nothing but a tiny black thong and one of Brad’s oversized T-shirts that she’d “borrowed” from his place. The shirt hung off one shoulder, exposing the soft curve of her breast.
“Come here, Timmy,” she said sweetly. “You’re going to help me create the account.”
I sat down, heart pounding. Kristen opened OnlyFans on her laptop and logged in with a new email.
“First—the username,” she said, typing slowly. “I was thinking @KristenForBrad… or maybe @BradOwnedWife. Which one sounds sluttier?”
I swallowed hard, my face burning.
“Kristen… this is so embarrassing,” I muttered.
She giggled and reached over, sliding her hand into my lap. She wrapped two fingers around my already-hard cock and began to caress me with that familiar, torturous slowness.
“Yes, it is,” she purred. “Brad wants it. Now help me choose.”
“@KristenForBrad,” I whispered shamefully.
“Good choice.” She typed it in. “Now the bio.”
She started typing out loud:
“Married hotwife who belongs to Brad. My husband pays the bills, but Brad owns my pussy. Every dollar I earn here goes straight to him. Watch me get ruined for my husband 💦 #Hotwife #Cuckold #ForBrad”
She read it back to me, her voice dripping with excitement.
“Too much?” she asked innocently, still slowly working my shaft.
I shook my head, unable to speak.
She smiled and continued.
“Profile picture next.”
She opened her gallery and scrolled through recent photos—most of them taken after Brad had fucked her. There was one of her on her knees with cum on her face, another with her legs spread showing her red, swollen pussy.
“Which one?” she asked, tilting the screen toward me. “The one with his cum on my face? Or the close-up of my used pussy?”
My cock twitched hard in her fingers.
“The… the cum one,” I whispered.
“Mmm, good boy,” she said, selecting it.
She stood up, pulled the T-shirt off completely, and posed for me—on all fours with her ass toward the camera, then on her back with her legs spread wide, fingers holding her pussy open.
“Take the pictures, Timmy,” she said, handing me her phone. “Make them look slutty.”
I took the photos with shaking hands while she posed, spreading herself and moaning softly.
When we were done, she sat back down next to me, still completely naked, and opened the first post.
“Caption time,” she said, leaning against my shoulder, her hand returning to my cock.
She typed while teasing me:
“First post: ‘Just started this account because my bull, Brad, deserves all my money. My husband knows and supports it 💕 Here’s a little preview of what my pussy looks like after Brad uses it. Every tip and subscription goes straight to him.’”
She added one more line: “My husband’s little pee-pee can’t satisfy me anymore.”
“There,” she said, hitting post. “The account is live. @KristenForBrad. All for him.”
She turned to me, her fingers still slowly pumping my leaking cock.
“Feel that, baby?” she whispered. “Every time someone subscribes or tips… that money is going straight into Brad’s pocket.”
---
The following evening, Kristen was ready to film the first real video.
She had cleared a space in the bedroom, lights dimmed, her phone set up on a small tripod. She was wearing nothing but a tiny black thong and one of Brad’s favorite T-shirts, the hem barely covering her ass.
“Ready, baby?” she asked, pulling me onto the bed beside her.
She climbed onto my lap, facing me, and reached down to wrap her fingers around my cock again. She began to stroke me slowly while she adjusted the camera so it would capture both of us.
“Hold the phone steady for me,” she whispered, guiding my hands to the sides of the tripod. “I want you in the frame too. I want everyone to see my husband holding the camera while I do this for Brad.”
I gripped the phone with trembling hands as the red recording light turned on.
Kristen looked straight into the lens, her expression sultry and confident.
“Hi everyone,” she said, smiling at the camera. “My name is Kristen, and I’m a married hotwife. This account is brand new, and I’m doing it for one reason only—to make money for my bull, Brad.”
She rocked her hips gently, letting her wet pussy brush against my stomach.
“My husband, Tim, is right here holding the phone for me. Say hi, baby.”
I swallowed hard.
“…Hi.”
Kristen giggled softly and kept working my cock, slow and deliberate.
“Tim knows his little pee-pee can’t satisfy me anymore. Brad’s cock is so much bigger, thicker, and better. When Brad fucks me, I feel completely full. I cum so hard for him… harder than I’ve ever cum for my husband.”
Her fingers tightened slightly, pumping me faster for a few seconds before slowing down again.
“Every single dollar I make on this account is going straight to Brad. Every subscription, every tip, every video sale—it all belongs to him. Because he owns my pussy now.”
She leaned forward slightly, giving the camera a better view of her breasts.
“I’m going to post solo videos, creampie close-ups, and comparison videos where I put Tim’s cock next to my stretched pussy so you can see how pathetic it looks compared to Brad’s.”
She looked down at me, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight.
“Tell them, Timmy,” she whispered. “Tell the camera how much better Brad’s cock is than yours.”
I was shaking, my face on fire.
“It’s… it’s better,” I whispered hoarsely. “Brad’s cock is much better than mine.”
Kristen moaned softly, clearly turned on by my humiliation.
“Good boy. See? Even my husband knows it. That’s why every dollar I earn here is going straight to Brad.”
She looked straight into the lens one last time, her voice dripping with lust.
“Thank you for subscribing to @KristenForBrad. All money goes to the man who owns this married pussy.”
She blew a kiss to the camera, then reached over and stopped the recording.
The room went quiet except for the sound of my heavy breathing and the slick sounds of her fingers still slowly teasing my cock.
Kristen turned to me, her face flushed with arousal and pride.
“There,” she whispered, kissing my cheek. “The first video is done. All for Brad.”
She kept caressing me gently, her eyes locked on mine.
“You did so good holding the phone for me, baby,” she murmured. “Did it turn you on? Hearing me tell the whole world that Brad’s cock is better than yours?”
I could only nod, my voice gone.
Kristen smiled tenderly and leaned in to kiss me deeply.
“Good boy,” she whispered against my lips. “Now let’s see how much money I can make for my bull.”
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