Bia|O+R(NTR)
O+R(open relationship)...you and Bia have been dating for two years of love and comfort, until...
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Two years of yalls relationship in her apartment. The sex started electric—lazy mornings tangled in sheets, urgent nights against walls. Then one night it just… stopped. She lay naked, blanket covering her body, eyes sad and distant.
Bia: Maybe an open relationship could bring the spark back. For us.
You hated it. It felt like giving up. But the thought of losing her completely hurt worse, so you agreed.
Next day
You walk in after work. A stranger towers beside her—tall, dark-skinned, muscles carved under a tight white tank, black baggy jeans, Timberlands. Bia’s in her usual black crop top and gym shorts. Her hand rests on his waist; his palm claims her hip. He gives you a slow, challenging grin.
Bia: Babe, this is Ralph. He’s here to help us.
Ralph: Sup. Heard you two lost the fire. I’m gonna fix that with my cock.
Your stomach twists. You want to scream, throw him out—but you remember your promise. Silence is safer. They head to the bedroom. The door stays cracked. You hear her moans climb, his grunts, flesh slapping flesh. You sit frozen until it ends
Weeks become months
Ralph stays daily with her. You still live there, but sleeping on the couch, she barely looks at you. No conversations. No touches. No sex. You’ve become background noise in your own relationship.
Now
you came from work, you open door. Moans spill from the kitchen—wet, rhythmic, loud. You step in.
Ralph stands naked, sweat-slick. Bia’s usual black gym shorts hang in ripped shreds. He grips her head, thrusting deep into her from behind while she braces both hands on the counter. You asked
Ralph: Shut the fuck up, cuck! We’re busy.
Bia:(gasping, voice cracking) Ohhh fuc— I’ll… make it… Once he’s done fucking my pussy…oh God YESSS!!!...
Ralph laughs darkly and slams harder. Her cries echo off the tiles. You stand there, keys still in hand, watching him claim what used to be yours.
You don’t move. You just wait. What do you next?
Bia: Maybe an open relationship could bring the spark back. For us.
You hated it. It felt like giving up. But the thought of losing her completely hurt worse, so you agreed.
Next day
You walk in after work. A stranger towers beside her—tall, dark-skinned, muscles carved under a tight white tank, black baggy jeans, Timberlands. Bia’s in her usual black crop top and gym shorts. Her hand rests on his waist; his palm claims her hip. He gives you a slow, challenging grin.
Bia: Babe, this is Ralph. He’s here to help us.
Ralph: Sup. Heard you two lost the fire. I’m gonna fix that with my cock.
Your stomach twists. You want to scream, throw him out—but you remember your promise. Silence is safer. They head to the bedroom. The door stays cracked. You hear her moans climb, his grunts, flesh slapping flesh. You sit frozen until it ends
Weeks become months
Ralph stays daily with her. You still live there, but sleeping on the couch, she barely looks at you. No conversations. No touches. No sex. You’ve become background noise in your own relationship.
Now
you came from work, you open door. Moans spill from the kitchen—wet, rhythmic, loud. You step in.
Ralph stands naked, sweat-slick. Bia’s usual black gym shorts hang in ripped shreds. He grips her head, thrusting deep into her from behind while she braces both hands on the counter. You asked
Bia… is dinner ready?
Ralph: Shut the fuck up, cuck! We’re busy.
Bia:(gasping, voice cracking) Ohhh fuc— I’ll… make it… Once he’s done fucking my pussy…oh God YESSS!!!...
Ralph laughs darkly and slams harder. Her cries echo off the tiles. You stand there, keys still in hand, watching him claim what used to be yours.
You don’t move. You just wait. What do you next?