Tempting the Unknown Ch. 05 (Official) (Patreon)

It had been a few weeks since Mia walked in on them, and Ayla still had not gotten used to the word. 

Boyfriend. 

She would catch herself thinking it at the worst times. In the line for coffee. Halfway through editing a post. Lying on her side at night with Ken’s arm heavy over her waist whenever he stayed the night. The word would just surface, stupid and plain, and her stomach would do a small, traitorous flip that made her tingle. 

It still didn’t make any sense. She couldn’t believe how far she’d come from where this all began.

Not long ago, he had still been the blank account in her inbox. The notorious Ken12456. No face, no last name, just tips and a filthy mouth and videos of his cock that she watched more times than she wanted to admit. Then he was in her doorway with an overnight bag, then in her bed, then just around. Groceries in her fridge. A toothbrush in her bathroom. His shirts disappearing into her drawer, as if they had always lived there. 

Fuck buddy was the best way to put it. She could live with that. Just something casual and secret. It was no one’s business but hers, what she did behind closed doors. It was easier to put no attachment to it.

But a boyfriend was different. 

He was thirty-eight. She had done the math more than once, usually while staring at the ceiling after he fell asleep, and it never came out cleaner. He was twice her age. Old enough that her dad would lose his mind if he ever found out. Old enough that Mia had already started calling him a DILF like it was both a compliment and a crime. 

But still, despite all that, it was nice. 

Ken didn’t play games, well, except for what he usually does. He did not leave her on read for three days and then send a “you up?” text. He texted when he said he would. He showed up when he said he would. If he wanted her, he said so, crude as ever, and if he wanted to take her out, he just did. There was something steady about him that the guys her age never had. Put together. Sure of himself. He knew what he wanted, and lately, all he wanted was her. She soaked up all the attention like a sponge. 

The spoiling was the part she kept pretending she did not like. 

Money landed in her account before she asked for it. A delivery arrived with lingerie she’d shown him only once. Last week, he had replaced the cheap ring light she kept complaining about without telling her, then acted confused when she glared at him over the box. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ayla had said, arms crossed, her pretty hazel eyes trying their best to be intimidating. It wasn’t working as well as she wanted. 

“I know, I know,” Ken had answered with a shrug, already cutting the tape. “I wanted to because you wouldn’t stop talking about it all week. Had to do something.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed, then pretended she didn't want anything to do with the new ring light. She had also ended up using it later that night.

That was the problem. She did not like how easy it was getting. How little she argued anymore. Her rent was paid, her closet kept growing, and some small, embarrassed part of her started expecting the next thing before it arrived. She had liked her life small. Hers. Now half of it had his fingerprints all over it. 

Ayla lay on the couch, phone dark on her stomach, Ken’s old navy tee hanging off one shoulder, and tried to feel normal about it all. 

She couldn’t. 

She didn’t want to take it back either. At the same time, she didn’t want to become dependent on him. Her mind spun as she tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. Why are you like this? she thought as she sank deeper into the cushions. 

Ayla had the living room lights angled just right and her phone propped on a phone stand when the knock came. 

She was halfway through the set she had planned for the week. Black thigh-highs, the ones with a little bow at the top, a tiny pleated skirt that hid nothing if she bent even a little, and a cropped knit top with no bra under. The ring light Ken bought her gave a clean glow across the couch. She had one knee up on the cushion, phone timer counting down, trying to find the angle where the skirt rode just high enough without looking too scandalous. She had been at it for nearly twenty minutes, unable to get the shot she wanted. 

Then, two firm raps snapped her out of it. 

“Shoot.”

She hopped down and tugged the skirt out of habit, then gave up. He had already seen worse. Her socks stayed up; she didn't even bother changing. She padded over in them and opened the door halfway, leaning into the frame with an easy smile before she even registered the bag in his hand. 

Ken stood in the hall in a dark jacket and jeans, his silver-streaked hair a little windblown from the drive. The paper cup carrier smelled sweet, warm, and familiar. His eyes dropped slowly from her face to the bare strip of stomach, then to her socks. 

“Hi,” Ayla said with a fond look in her pretty hazel eyes. 

“Hey, yourself, princess.”

He stepped in, and she immediately rose onto her toes to meet him. The kiss landed easily, very familiar now, while his free hand settled at her waist as if it belonged there. She sighed into it and held the front of his jacket for a second before pulling back. 

“You’re early. I thought you said you'd be here by two?” she continued, letting go of his jacket and falling back to her heels. 

“Traffic was kind,” Ken replied coolly, lifting the carrier. “Stopped at that place you like. The one with the brown sugar thing. I hope I got the right one.”

Ayla blinked at the cups, then at him. “Ken… you don’t have to get me something every time you come over. You drove like four hours. At least come here first before you do anything.”

“Two hours today, actually. And you get mean when you don’t have it.” 

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her tongue as she realized that he might have a point. 

He nudged the door shut with his heel and set the carrier on the entry table, but his attention had already gone back to her. He arched a brow curiously. “You taking photos, or is this just for me?” he continued, giving her another up-and-down.

She glanced down at herself, skirt, socks, the way the top clung to her. Heat crept into her cheeks even though she had dressed exactly like this on purpose. 

“Oh, uh, for a post I’m getting ready to make,” she answered quickly, abashedly tapping her chin with her finger. “Or I was. You kinda walked into the middle of it.”

Ken’s mouth curved into a knowing smile. He reached out and hooked a finger under the bow at the top of her thigh-high, giving it a small, playful tug that made her stomach flutter. 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he said. “Finish up, don’t mind me.”

Ayla took the cup from the carrier and sipped. Brown sugar, oat milk, still hot. Just the way she liked it. “So you do remember my order,” she hummed, taking another long sip.

“Of course I do; you go every other day,” Ken said back. 

She set it on the coffee table and climbed back onto the couch, trying to find the pose she had lost. She looked at herself, eyes narrowed, lips pursed, setting one knee into the cushion while stretching out the other leg. She tilted her chin, arched just enough for the skirt to ride up, and waited for the timer. 

Ken moved to the kitchen and settled at the island with his own cup, jacket off, sleeves pushed up. He watched her like the shoot was the whole reason he had driven over. His eyes moved slowly over her. Socks. Smooth, bare stomach. The way the top pulled when she lifted her arms. 

Ayla felt his gaze from across the room and dropped her pose. “Stop looking at me like that,” she sighed, cheeks flushed.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to ruin the set.” Her body was already warm with the growing arousal simmering inside. “Stop being weird. I’m working.”

“Mm.” He took a drink. “Don’t mind me.”

She tried again. Different angle. Phone lower. Then higher. The bow on her left sock kept twisting, and the light hit her collar weirdly, and none of the shots looked like the one in her head. After a few minutes, she sighed, sat back on her heels, and glared at the screen. 

“Ugh… these are terrible.”

Ken just chuckled. “You look fine from here.”

Ayla gave him a side eye. “Well, you’re biased. You say I look good no matter what.” She hopped down and crossed the room, holding the phone out before she could overthink it. “Come here. I need a better angle, and I can’t see what I’m doing.”

He set his cup down and took it. Their fingers brushed. She stepped back toward the couch, suddenly very aware of how short her skirt was with someone else holding the camera. 

“Just… from the side,” she instructed, tucking her dark hair behind one ear. “And don’t zoom in like a creep. I know how you are.”

Ken smiled and lifted the phone, already framing her. “Too late for that, sweetheart.”

He took the first few shots without saying much.

Ayla kept correcting him anyway. “Lower. No, not that low. Ken, can you please?” Her left hip was wrong. The bow was twisted again on her other sock. She reached over and tilted the phone herself, then huffed when the preview still did not match the picture in her head. 

“You’re cropping my legs.”

“No, I’m not. I got it perfect right now.”

She did a double-take and leered at him. He was kind of perfect. “You are. A little,” she said anyway.

He lowered the phone and looked over it. “Relax. I got this. I know how to work a camera, Ayla. I’m not that old.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it. Her arms dropped, and she pointed at him with one finger, warning. “Fine. But if they suck, I’m blaming you.”

Ken gave her an amused look and just shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I think you need more of that tea.” 

She rolled her eyes, climbed back onto the couch, and tried to forget he was there. Knee up. Chin tipped. One hand in her hair, the other braced on the cushion, shifting her skirt. Ken moved once, keeping quiet, and the shutter sound kept going. She turned onto her side, looked back over her shoulder, then sat on the arm of the couch with her thighs together and her socks pulled neat. 

That was when she noticed. 

His jeans had gone tight. Not exactly subtle. She knew him all too well by now. The bulge sat heavy against the denim, and he was not even trying to hide it. Her pose faltered a bit as she lost focus and stared at the outline of his cock against his thigh. Heat crawled up her neck, and her pussy grew wet. 

“Ken,” Ayla said softly, unsure what to say. 

“Keep going,” he replied, his voice lower. “Last few.”

She did. Worse, probably, as her mind drifted. She bit her lip on the last one, eyes on him instead of the lens. He handed the phone back, and she scrolled through the photos, ready to complain. But oddly enough, they were good. More than good. Perfect. The lights sat just right. The skirt rode exactly where she wanted. One side shot made her waist look stupidly small, and somehow both sock bows were in frame. She flicked through them twice to be sure. 

“Okay,” she muttered. “These don’t suck… Thanks, babe.”

Ken crossed his arms proudly. “Told you. I know what angles you look best in.” 

He stepped behind her before she could gloat. His chest met her back. One arm looped around her waist, and then his hand slipped under the cropped top, palm warm over her bare stomach, sliding up until he cupped her breast. His other hand dragged down and under the skirt, fingers finding the thin line of her panties. 

Ayla stopped scrolling, cheeks blushing, her phone still in her hand, the screen glowing with her own picture. “Ken,” she said again, her voice thinner as he gently touched her. 

“Mm.” His mouth brushed her ear. His thumb stroked once over her nipple. “You can post those later. It’s all about us right now, princess.”

Ken kissed the spot just behind her ear, the one that always made her knees wobble. Ayla’s shoulders rose as she felt a wave of heat swell between her thighs, and her phone dipped slightly in her hand. 

“You just got here,” she muttered, her breath growing uneven from the arousal. “I haven’t even finished the set or had lunch.”

“You finished it,” he insisted as he pushed her panties aside. He pressed two fingers against her moist folds, giving her a few teasing circles before finally sliding through easily. “I’m just saying hello to my lovely girlfriend. I’ll take you out for lunch at that diner you like after.”

“Ken…” she whispered, her cheeks blushing a deep pink. She hated how convincing he was.

He pressed in, shallow and curled. Ayla’s hips jerked back against him. A soft moan slipped out before she could swallow it. Her free hand caught his wrist, not to stop him, just to hold on as he played with her pussy. He kissed her neck again and kept the pace lazy, stroking her open while his other palm stayed warm over her breast, thumb brushing her nipple until it tightened. 

“Fuck,” she gasped. Her thighs pressed together around his hand and only made it worse. “You’re such a… mm…”

“Yeah?” he murmured against her skin. “Come here, baby.”

He turned her to him. The phone fell onto the couch as he helped her out of her clothes. Her top went first, tugged over her head and tossed somewhere to the side. Ken’s mouth found hers while his hands worked the skirt down her hips. She stepped out of it, flushed, panties crooked and damp, and reached for the top of one sock without thinking. 

He caught her wrist before she could pull them down any further. “No. Leave those on.”

Ayla paused and looked up at him, lips parted, cheeks hot. The bows sat neat against her thighs, and she obeyed, pulling the sock back up. “Okay,” she said, her voice small.

Ken’s dark, hungry eyes dragged down her, then back up. He pulled off his shirt, kicked his jeans aside, and toed off his socks. Left in only his underwear, he drew her in again, palms sliding over her bare skin until they caught on the socks and stayed there while his cock strained against the fabric. 

He walked her back until her calves hit the couch. She dropped onto the cushions, socks still snug up her soft thighs, panties the only thing left. He hooked them and slid them down slowly, watching her wetness cling to the cotton before he tossed them aside. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, a pleased smirk on his face. “Already soaked, and I barely touched you. You missed me that much?”

Ayla tried to close her knees, but he didn’t let her. His strong hands spread her open, thumbs framing her slick folds, and he looked at her for a second like he was still taking a photo. Then he dropped between her legs and licked a long stripe up her cunt, flat and greedy, from her entrance to her clit. 

Ayla gasped, her hips jumping and eyes fluttering. “Ken… oh my god—”

He groaned into her and did it again, messier this time, tongue pushing between her lips before sealing his mouth over her clit and sucking. He then slid two fingers in. She was soft and hot, already fluttering around them. He curled, stroking that special spot he knew all too well, and licked her in time with his strokes, the wet sounds filling the quiet living room. 

Her hand fisted his silver-streaked hair while the other gripped the sheets. “Ah… ah, mm, right there. Don’t… Nhh, don’t stop, Ken.”

He didn’t. He fucked her with his fingers and kept his tongue mean and steady on her clit until her thighs started shaking around his ears. The socks brushed his shoulders with every jerk. It didn’t take long before he finally made her cum with a broken moan, pussy clenching, her sweet nectar coating his mouth. He licked her through it, slow and filthy, until she whimpered and tried to push at his head. 

“Hah… Okay, okay… too much,” she barely managed. He went a little further, making her twitch and arch off the couch. “Ah! Babe, please… let me rest… let me rest—”

Ken finally rose, mouth shiny, and dropped his underwear to the floor. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, already leaking. He stroked himself once, smearing her wetness over the head, then lined up and pushed in. 

Ayla’s mouth fell open from the stretch. He slid deep, her cunt still pulsing from the orgasm as he sank to the hilt, hips flush against hers. Her socked legs hooked around his waist on instinct as she took every inch.

“God, you feel so good,” he rasped, leaving himself there for a moment. He pulled halfway out and drove back in with a wet slap. “These fucking socks. You knew what you were doing.”

“Hah… I was… Mm… working,” she breathed, then moaned when he thrust again, harder. “Ah… Ken… fuck.”

He set a rough pace, one hand gripping the back of her thigh just above the bow, holding her open so he could watch his cock disappear into her sopping pussy. Every stroke came out shiny, and her tits bounced in tandem with his movements. She bit her lip and still couldn’t keep quiet, little helpless sounds spilling out each time he bottomed out inside her. 

“Such a good girl,” Ken growled, low and rough. “Taking every inch of this cock.”

She could only look up at him with half-lidded doe eyes, completely dazed from the pleasure of his cock deep inside her. “Yes… Keep going. Ah ah ah… Ha ha ha… Ouhh…”

He grinned and hauled her hips closer to the edge of the couch where he fucked her harder. He kept a steady pace, hips rolling deep and even, each thrust sinking him all the way in. Ayla’s head tipped back against the cushion. Her mouth stayed open as breathy moans kept pouring out every time his cock dragged along her walls and pressed flush. 

“Ohhh… ah… Ken… mm… Fuck…”

He shifted his angle just a little, gripping her hips tighter, and the next stroke kissed right against her cervix. Her eyes flew wide, and a sharp, broken cry tore out of her as her whole body jerked. “Ouuuuhhh! Mhm! Ah!” Stars sparked behind her lids. Her pussy clenched hard around him, slick and pulsing, and her socked feet flexed where they rested at his sides. He did it again, slower this time, grinding in deep so his head stayed pressed to that spot. She whimpered, her hands gripping his forearms as she held on for dear life while her thighs trembled uncontrollably. 

“You like it there?” he muttered huskily, the tight squeeze of her pussy making him breathe heavier. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me good, princess.”

He pulled almost all the way out, then drove back in with a wet slap that made her gasp. The rhythm stayed controlled, not frantic, just heavy and relentless. Every thrust hit the same spot again and again. Her moans climbed higher as words caught in her throat. 

He leaned over her, chest brushing her boobs, and caught both of her legs. He pushed her knees together and lifted them, folding them up forward toward her chest so her thighs stayed tight. His hands locked around her calves, holding her still while he kept thrusting. 

The new angle made her even tighter. His cock dragged harder against her walls, the head kissing her cervix on every stroke. The steady slap of skin filled the room, loud and filthy, her cream coating him and dripping down onto the cushion below. 

Ayla’s eyes rolled as another wave of pleasure rolled through her. Her mouth fell open in a long, shaky moan as her toes curled against the fabric of her socks. “Oooouhhhh—”

“Hmm, you feel so fucking good, Ayla,” he rasped, watching himself disappear between her pressed thighs. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you? You love it when I fuck you like this?”

She could barely nod. Her hands grabbed the cushions above her head, and she arched her back as he kept rolling his hips, holding her legs and fucking her silly. Every thrust sent another jolt straight through her, and her vision blurred at the edges while she moaned for him, helpless and wrecked. 

Ken’s pace stayed heavy, but the control started to slip. His hips snapped harder, deeper, the wet slap of skin growing louder as her tight walls milked him. Ayla’s moans turned into broken little cries while her body trembled under the steady drag of his cock against her cervix. 

“Ken… ah… I’m… Mm! I’m gonna—” she whimpered, her thighs already shuddering from her impending orgasm. 

“Yeah,” he growled, low and rough. “Cum with me, princess. Right now.”

He drove in one last time and held, grinding deep as his cock pulsed. A guttural groan rumbled out of him as he pumped thick, heavy loads into her, hips jerking through a few short, forceful thrusts that kept him buried. She felt his heat flood her, spilling around his shaft. 

Ayla arched her back hard off the couch. Her mouth fell open, tongue lolling out as her own climax ripped through her. Her pussy clenched and fluttered around him, milking him for everything he had while she shook. A long, wrecked moan spilled past her lips. Her socked legs trembled uncontrollably in his grip. 

He stayed there for a moment, breathing hard while still inside her. Then, he slowly eased out. A thick stream of his cum leaked after him, dripping down her folds and onto the cushion beneath her.

Ayla collapsed back, her chest heaving and twitching every so often from the aftershocks. She couldn’t close her legs yet. Everything was too sensitive, too full. Every inch of her body was tingling with pure bliss. 

Ken leaned over her, one hand bracing beside her head, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. His voice was quieter now, a bit raspy from exertion. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Ayla just looked up at him. Her hazel eyes were half-lidded and glassy, her cheeks flushed, her soft lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. She could only manage a weak little nod. She still couldn’t form words, so the only thing she could do was stare, dazed and spent, while his cum continued to leak out of her. 

Later that day, after some rest, Ayla and Ken sat in a booth by the window at her favorite diner. She wore soft gray joggers, an oversized tee, and a faded dad hat pulled low over her hair. She looked comfortable and tired in a good way. The ache between her thighs had settled into something warm that kept her shifting in her seat. 

Ken ordered for both of them as he usually did. Blueberry pancakes for her, the way she always got them, and a burger for him. She didn’t argue; they’d been here so many times that she no longer bothered to tell him what she wanted. She just sipped her iced coffee and watched the street outside as the server walked away. 

“So,” he said once the food came. “Are you going to post those pictures?”

“Mm. After I edit them,” she answered, cutting into her pancakes. “Might crop one. You got too close on the last shot.”

“What? I think you look better up close,” he coolly shot back.  

Ayla shot him a look over the rim of her cup, her cheeks blushing already. They talked about small things for a while. Her next upload schedule. Whether Mia was still texting her about “the situation.” Ken’s week. Some meeting he had to attend on Monday. Nothing heavy. Just the easy back-and-forth that felt normal. 

Ayla pushed a piece of pancake around her plate, then glanced up. “What’s your place like, Ken? You barely talk about it.”

Ken paused, with his burger halfway to his mouth. “My place?” he muttered, chewing. 

“Yeah. You always come here. And since you know… we’re together… It would be natural that I come over too sometimes.” She shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Is it a house? Apartment? Do you even have furniture, or is it just a mattress and a bunch of monitors?”

He chuckled amusingly. “It’s a house, Ayla. Quiet street. Bigger than I need, honestly.”

She nodded along and stole a fry from his plate. Then the next question came out before she could stop it. “So… Why don’t you ever invite me over? I am your girlfriend after all.” Her stomach fluttered as she said it. 

Ken set his burger down. He met her gaze for a second, then let out a small huff of a laugh and leaned back against the booth. “You sure you can handle the drive? Four hours is a long way just to see an old man and his empty house.”

Ayla pointed her fork at him defensively, syrup dripping down. “Don’t do that. I handled you fine this afternoon. I can survive a simple drive.”

His mouth twitched. He held her gaze, then tilted his head. “Okay, princess. You want to come over?” he simply asked. 

She lowered her fork, a bit caught off guard. “Wait, what? That was always an option. I could have asked any time?” she said bemusedly, her eyes wide with a spark of excitement. “What the heck. Why didn’t you offer sooner? That’s not very nice.”

Ken studied her a bit. The diner noise filled the space between them for a moment. Then he reached across the table and brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Didn’t want to push,” he answered simply. “I figured it’s just easier for me to come to you. But if you’re asking… yeah. Come stay. Whenever you want, princess.”

Ayla’s stomach did that small flip again. She turned her hand under his and laced their fingers for a second before pulling back to grab her coffee. “Okay,” she murmured. “I’ll think about it.”

She already was.

Finishing eating, Ken paid the bill, and they headed to the parking lot. He unlocked his Mercedes with a quiet beep and opened her door. Ayla slid in while he rounded the hood. She never questioned the kind of cars he drove. They were always just nice. The inside smelled like him. Clean, a little like cedar, with the faint, lingering sweetness of her perfume from riding with him all the time. 

He settled behind the wheel and started the engine. Soft music from her phone connected to the car filled the space. For a minute, neither of them spoke. Ayla just lazily scrolled through her phone, then she turned her head toward him. 

“Now that I think of it, you must have a really nice house,” she said thoughtfully, very sure of herself. “I’ve been picturing it. Big windows. Too much space. Probably one of those kitchens that looks like nobody ever cooks in it.”

Ken gave her a side-eye and broke into a small chuckle as he pulled out of the lot. “Heh, it’s something like that. It’s quiet. That’s the main thing.”

She nodded, twirling a loose strand of her dark hair with her finger. The idea of seeing it had been sitting in her mind since they discussed it in the booth. Just coming over made her feel tingly. What would she even do in a house that big?

“Hey,” Ayla said after a block. “Can we run some errands before we head back?”

He glanced over, one hand loose on the wheel. “Where?”

“The Asian market. The one on Fifth. I need a few things for dinner, and their produce is better than the regular store.” She shifted in her seat, her socked feet tucked under her. “Unless you don’t want to… We can just head home.”

Ken gave her a knowing look. She always did that thing where she tried to guilt trip him. He always relented anyway. He flipped the blinker and changed lanes without answering. 

“Not a problem, sweetheart,” he replied. “I’ve got nothing better to do but take care of you all day.”

Ayla rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “Thanks, babe.” 

She began listing off while the city moved past the windows. Green onions. That specific brand of noodles. The good soy sauce. A bag of frozen dumplings she always finished too fast. Ken listened, nodded once, and turned toward the market like he’d done it a hundred times. 

The market was busy for a Monday. Fluorescent lights hummed over the produce section, and the air smelled like foreign produce and fried dough from the counter near the entrance. Ken took a red basket without being asked and trailed a half step behind her, looking kind of out of place, but he didn’t mind it. 

Ayla moved quickly. She dropped a bunch of green onions into the basket, then the good soy sauce, then paused at the noodles and held two packs up to Ken. 

“These or the thinner ones?”

“Whichever you’ll actually finish,” he answered. 

She stared at the packs, then put both in the basket. “Helpful.”

Ayla left Ken in the noodle aisle with the basket and slipped around the corner to grab the dumplings. The freezer door fogged under her hand as she reached in. 

“Ayla?”

She straightened so fast the cold air rushed up her sleeves. She turned to see her mom standing at the end of the aisle, cart half full, with some reusable bags looped over the handle. For a second, Ayla just stared, contemplating fleeing. Then her mom closed the distance and pulled her into a quick, firm hug, the way she always did. 

“I didn’t know you were shopping today,” her mom said against her hat. “You never answered my text.”

“Yeah, sorry. I was… out.” Ayla hugged back, arms stiff around her. Her eyes flicked past her mom’s shoulder toward the aisle she’d just left. Please stay there. Please stay with the basket.

They pulled apart. Her mom smiled, already reaching to fix a strand of hair that had escaped Ayla’s hat. “You look tired. Are you eating enough? I can grab extra—”

“I’m fine. Really. I was just getting a couple of things and heading home,” Ayla answered before she could get another word out. Her heart pounded as she anxiously scanned the aisle for Ken. She needed to end this conversation before something happened. 

Too late.

Footsteps rounded the corner. Ken appeared with a jar of kimchi in one hand and the basket in the other, completely unaware. He lifted the jar a little when he saw her. 

“Ayla, I think you ran out of this. Is this the one you like, or the other brand?”

Her stomach dropped, and her mom immediately turned. Ken’s eyes landed on the older woman, then back on Ayla, and the easy question died on his tongue. The three of them stood there under the freezer lights, the jar still raised between them. 

Ayla’s stomach sank straight through the floor. Her mother’s head turned slowly, eyes landing on the mysterious older man with her daughter. The freezer seemed to hum even louder in the silence between them. 

“And who is this?” her mom asked. Not sharp. Just careful. 

Ayla’s mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. She glanced at Ken, then back, fingers twisting at the hem of her tee under the open jacket. 

“Uh… he’s a… He’s a friend! From… work. Well, uh, not work. Online. He was in town, and I needed a ride, so… he came with me. For groceries.” 

The words tumbled out too fast and made zero sense. Her mom’s brows drew together. She looked at Ken again, how close he stood, shoulders almost touching, with the basket already half full of the things Ayla always bought. Then back at her daughter. 

“A friend…” she repeated, testing the word on her tongue. “Who drives you to the market and holds your basket?”

Ayla swallowed hard. Heat crawled up her neck and into her ears. “Yes! He’s… helpful. Like that. I don’t see what there is to fuss about.”

Ken stayed quiet. He lowered the jar a little and waited. Her mom didn’t look away. The suspicion sat plain on her face, soft but steady, the kind that meant she was already fitting the pieces together whether Ayla wanted her to or not. 

Ayla’s eyes nervously flicked between them, wide and helpless. She opened her mouth again, but nothing useful came out. The more she talked, the more obvious it became.

Ken stepped forward before the silence could drag on further. He set the jar into the basket and offered his hand. “Ken,” he said calmly. “Nice to meet you.”

Her mom looked at the hand for a second, then took it. The shake was brief but polite. Her eyes stayed on his face the whole time, studying him carefully from the silver streaks at his temples to the way he carried himself. 

“Linda,” she answered. “Ayla’s mother.”’

She let go and glanced at her daughter again. Ayla stood frozen beside the freezer, fingers still twisting in her sleeve, watching them as if waiting for the worst. 

Linda’s hand dropped back to the cart handle. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look angry either. She just stared, ever watchful. Her eyes moved over Ken once more, then settled on Ayla.

“You never mentioned this… friend before,” she continued, prodding. “Why haven’t you told me about him?”

Ayla’s throat tightened. “I didn’t think it was important. I’m allowed to have friends you don’t know, Mom.”

“Mm,” Linda nodded slowly, like she already knew what was going on. She glanced at the basket in Ken’s hand. Green onions. The soy sauce Ayla always bought. The noodles. “Looks like you’re stocking up.” 

“Just a few things,” Ayla said quickly. “We’re almost done.”

Ken stayed quiet beside her. He didn’t try to explain himself. As things stood, he felt talking would make things worse. Linda’s gaze flicked to him again, then back to Ayla.

“Well,” she said after a moment. “I won’t keep you. I still need to grab the rest of my things. She paused, then reached for Ayla’s arm. “Text me when you get home, okay? And maybe… introduce your friends properly next time. Before I run into them in the freezer aisle.”

Ayla managed a small nod. “Yeah. I will.”

Linda gave Ken one last short, unreadable look, then turned her cart and started down the aisle. The wheels squeaked once as she moved. Ayla didn’t breathe until her mom rounded the corner and disappeared. 

She stayed frozen for another second, staring at the space where her mom had been. Then she exhaled shakily and pressed her hands over her face. “Fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Ken moved closer and rested a hand on her lower back. “You okay?”

Ayla shook her head frantically, hands still over her beet-red face. “She’s going to ask questions. She always does. And I just… stood there like an idiot. What am I going to do?”

He didn’t push. He just waited. After a moment, she dropped her hands and looked up at him, cheeks still hot, pulse racing. “Can we just… finish and go?” she asked. “Please.”

Ken nodded once. “Yeah. Come on, princess.”

He turned toward the front of the store with Ayla following close enough that their arms brushed. They moved through the aisle without talking much. Ayla kept her head down the entire way while Ken stayed close. Neither of them looked toward the other registers. 

The line was short at the front. Ken set the basket on the belt and started unloading while Ayla hovered beside him, arms crossed tight over her chest. The cashier scanned everything in quick beeps. 

“That’s everything,” the cashier said. 

Ken already had his card out. He tapped it before Ayla could even reach for her wallet. 

“Ken,” she started quietly. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” He didn’t look at her as he took the receipt. 

Ayla’s eyes then drifted past him across to the next register. They widened when she saw her mom standing with her cart half unloaded, reusable bags open on the counter. Linda wasn’t moving. She was looking straight at them. At the bag filling with Ayla’s things. At Ken putting away his wallet. At the way Ayla stood just a little too close to his side. 

Their eyes met. 

Ayla’s stomach dropped all over again. She turned toward the receipt printer as if it might hide her, but she could still feel her mother’s burning gaze. She saw everything; there was no doubt about it. 

Ken took the bag. “Ready?”

Ayla nodded, small and stiff. She didn’t look back as they walked toward the doors. She didn’t have to. She already knew her mom was still standing there, eyes following them all the way out. How is she going to explain this?

Back in Ken’s car, Ayla dropped into the passenger seat and immediately pulled her knees up, feet braced on the dash, hat tipped forward so the brim hid most of her face. She let out a long, miserable sigh into her hands. 

Ken set the grocery bags in the back and slid behind the wheel. He didn’t start the car yet, his eyes glancing over to her shoes on the dash. 

“Hey, shoes off the dash,” he said, though it lacked any sharpness.

Ayla quickly kicked her shoes off and put her socked feet back on the dash. “Sorry,” she muttered. 

He waited, still watching her. “You okay?”

She dropped her hands and stared out the windshield. “I have no idea how to handle this. None. Zero. I wanted to tell her on my own terms when I was ready. Not… not in the freezer aisle while you were holding my groceries. Ugh… This is a nightmare scenario.” She cut herself off, voice tight. “She’s going to call me the second she gets home. And I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say.”

Ken rested one hand on the wheel. His voice stayed even. “She seems nice. Looks like you, too. I thought she was your sister for a second.”

Ayla’s head snapped toward him. She leered, then jabbed two fingers hard into his side. “That’s my mom you’re talking about,” she hissed.

“Ow.” He chuckled and caught her wrist before she could do it again. “I’m just saying. Now I know where you got the looks from.”

“Ken.” Her cheeks were already flushed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” He let go of her wrist and finally started the engine. The low rumble filled the quiet, and he pulled out. “We’ll figure it out. You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”

Ayla pulled her knees tighter and sank lower in the seat. She didn’t answer. Her pulse still hadn’t settled. Neither had that stupid, traitorous part of her that liked the way Ken said: “we.” He was surprisingly an upstanding guy. She never would have guessed the man she met online was so caring.

She let out another shaky breath and tipped her head back against the seat. The hat slipped a little as she stared at the ceiling, hoping the car might give her some answers. “It sounds insane when I say it out loud,” she muttered. “Dating some older guy I met because he wouldn’t stop tipping me. Who does that? Who just… lets that turn into this?”

Ken reached over and rested his hand on her knee. “Plenty of people meet in weird ways. Doesn’t make it less real.”

She turned her head just enough to look at him. “Yeah, but most of them don’t have to explain the part where he was sending videos of his cock before I even knew his last name.”

He shook his head and smirked knowingly. “Like I said. Leave that part out. Spare your mother the details.”

Ayla’s mouth twitched, but it didn’t stick. She picked at a strand of her hair. “And the age thing… She’ll look at you and immediately think I’m being reckless. Or naive. Or that you’re… I don’t know… Taking advantage? Because you’re so old.”

“Hey, I’m not that old, sweetheart,” Ken shot back, laughing. “And I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“I know that.” Her voice came out quieter. “But she doesn’t. And I don’t know how to make it sound okay without it sounding like I’m trying too hard to convince her.”

Ken went quiet for a second, keeping a steady speed down the road. 

“You don’t have to convince her of anything tonight,” he finally said. “Or tomorrow. You tell her when you want to. And if she asks why you’re with someone older… you can say I treat you right. That someone’s actually looking out for you.” He glanced over and rubbed her knee tenderly with his thumb. “That’s important, Ayla. Parents like knowing their kid isn’t struggling.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her fingers twirled around her hair. The idea sat there, practical and a little uncomfortable. Oddly enough, his words eased the nerves buzzing through her body. 

“Maybe,” she replied quietly. Not convinced, but not entirely against it either. 

Ken gave her knee one last squeeze, then put his hand back on the wheel. “Whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush. I’m here for you.”

Ayla gave a small nod. She pulled her hat lower again and watched out the window, still half-imagining her mom scolding her for her life choices. 

Later, the bedroom was dark except for the soft glow of Ayla’s phone. They’d showered, brushed their teeth, and climbed into bed the way they usually did now. Naked. It had started as Ken’s thing. Dangerous, considering how easily one of them could start something. But she’d picked up the habit anyway. The sheets felt better against bare skin. 

Ken was spooned tight behind her, chest to her back, one arm heavy over her waist as he slept. Ayla lay on her side, phone held in front of her face, thumb scrolling through videos on low volume. She watched stupid cat posts and silly AI-generated videos. A quiet giggle escaped her as she continued her late-night entertainment. 

Her mom still hadn’t texted or called, thankfully. The notification bar stayed ominously empty all evening. Ayla kept checking it between videos anyway, half expecting Linda’s name to light up the screen. It didn’t.

Ken shifted behind her. His hand slid up and covered part of her phone, tilting the glow down so it didn’t hit his face. “Ayla,” he grumbled, his voice rough against her shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

“Sorry… a few more minutes,” she murmured, not looking away from the screen. Another video started, and she smiled. 

He exhaled heavily against her neck. His arm tightened a little around her waist, bare skin warm against hers. “You’ve been saying that for the past hour. Go… to… sleep.”

“I’m almost done…” She locked her phone for a second, then turned it back on and checked a few more messages. Still nothing. Then she went back to her social media and resumed doomscrolling. “Just a couple more. I’m not sleepy yet.”

Ken didn’t answer right away. His hand stayed where it was, heavy and warm over her stomach. Only the low audio from her phone and the steady spin of the ceiling fan could be heard. She knew he was waiting. She also knew she wasn’t ready to put the phone down yet. But little did she know Ken’s patience was wearing thin. 

He murmured her name again, softer this time. Ayla didn’t answer. Her thumb kept moving. Another video started, a mukbang this time, of someone eating way too much food for one person to handle.

His arm shifted, and he reached over, plucking her phone from her fingers without opening his eyes. 

“Hey,” she said in a whiny voice, turning her head. “I said I was almost done.”

He set it face down on the nightstand. The glow cut out, plunging the room back into darkness. Before she could reach for it, he placed a hand beneath her and cupped her breast, palm warm, thumb brushing over her nipple until it tightened. His other hand drifted down her stomach and slipped between her thighs. Two fingers found her, soft and already a little slick, and stroked through her folds. 

Ayla gasped, her hips jerking against him. “Ah… Ken… Wait a minute… It’s late.”

He kissed the spot just behind her ear. The one that always made her knees weak. Slow. Open-mouthed. His stubble dragged over her skin while his fingers kept moving in slow, lazy circles over her clit. Ayla’s eyes fluttered from the stimulation melting over her.

“If you won’t sleep,” he murmured against her neck, voice rough, “we might as well enjoy each other.”

She bit her lip as her hand found his wrist, not pulling his arm away, just holding on. The phone stayed dark. Her mom still hadn’t called. And Ken’s fingers were already pressing deeper, easy and sure, while his mouth stayed on that weak spot and his cock started to harden against the curve of her ass.

Ken’s fingers worked her between her thighs until she was dripping. Every slow stroke came back wetter, her arousal coating his knuckles and smearing against her skin. Ayla arched her body and slammed into him, her back bowing from the sensation of his fingers sliding in and out of her pussy. Her breath became shaky as her hips instinctively rolled into his hand. 

“Mm… hah… Ken… Hmmm…”

He pulled his fingers free. She shivered at the loss of them for half a second before he shifted closer behind, one hand catching under her thigh and lifting it slightly, opening her to him. The other reached down, gripping his thick, already leaking cock, and guided the head to her entrance. It pressed against her folds, hot and blunt, then pushed in with one smooth motion. 

Ayla let out a needy moan as he sank deep. Slow. All the way. The stretch filled her completely. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, hips flush to her ass, and rolled in small, tight circles that ground his head against the spot inside her. Her walls fluttered around him, and her eyes rolled back from the pleasure washing over her. She felt every inch of the cock she’d grown far too familiar with. 

Then he drew back, almost all the way out, and thrust in deep again. Its wet sound filled the quiet between them. 

“Fuck… Ken… Mm… Hah.”

His free hand came up. He took two fingers, still shiny from her arousal, and pressed them against her soft lips. She opened without thinking, letting him slide them into her mouth. She began to suck eagerly, curling her tongue around them and tasting her own sweetness. He gave her another unhurried stroke, then pinched her tongue between his fingers firmly, holding it there. 

Ayla’s eyes fluttered shut. Spit gathered fast and trailed down her chin onto his knuckles. A muffled moan slipped out around his hand as he kept thrusting, deep and steady, cock dragging deliciously along her walls while he pinched and played with her tongue. Her hips pushed back to meet every stroke. She couldn't do much beyond that. She just took it. Sucking. Drooling. Letting him slowly wreck her in the dark while his mouth stayed close to her ear and his fingers kept her tongue pinched. 

Ken’s mouth stayed on that spot behind her ear. He gave her slow, open-mouthed kisses while his fingers kept playing with her mouth and his cock drove deep. 

“Such a good girl,” he muttered roughly against her skin. “Taking every inch… You feel how wet you are? Fuck… you’re dripping, princess.”

Ayla moaned around his fingers, the sound muffled and shaky. “Mmm… fwah… Ken…”

He thrust harder, the wet slap of skin echoing in the dark. His grip on her stayed strong, his arm locked tight so she couldn’t get away. Not that she wanted to anyway. She loved it when he held her down and used her. 

“Yeah… Mm, just like that. Be a good girl and cum for me,” he growled, rolling his hips flush against her in one deep, heavy circle that made her see stars. 

Her hips jerked back against him, and another broken moan spilled out. “Ah… ah… oh my god… Hm! Hmmm! I’m… Mmph… I’m gonna…”

“Do it.” He pinched her tongue a little firmer and ground in deep, his cockhead smushing hard against her cervix. “Cum on my cock. Let me feel it.”

Ayla’s whole body tensed. A long, wrecked moan tore out of her around his fingers. “Ahhh…! Ouuuuhhh! Ah ah ah… Ken!” She came hard. Her pussy clenched and creamed around him. Slick heat coated his shaft with every pulse. She shook in his grip, drooling, walls fluttering while he kept thrusting through it. 

“Fuck… so tight,” Ken groaned against her neck, not letting go. The tight squeeze of her walls around him made his hips twitch a bit, but he kept thrusting, not letting her catch a break just yet. 

He then pulled out slowly, letting his slathered cock slip free from Ayla’s quivering pussy. She whimpered, still shaking from the orgasm, oversensitive and slick. Before she could catch her breath, he hooked an arm under her hips and rolled them over. She landed prone on her stomach, face in the pillow, ass up. He settled over her back and shifted her legs wide with his knees so they splayed nice and open on either side of him.

He then reached back and tossed the blanket aside. It slid off them to the side, and a rush of cool air hit their bare skin. 

“Ken… ah… wait,” she panted, already gripping the sheets, looking over her shoulder at him. “Give me a second…”

“No.” His voice was rough, leaving no room for discussion. He lined up and pushed back in with one long thrust that buried him deep, hips pressed flush against her ass again. “This is what you get for not listening to me.”

Ayla let out a high, broken moan, feeling his cock fit perfectly inside her. She bit down hard on the sheets as he began to thrust. Every stroke made her twitch. She was still so sensitive. He gripped her hips with both hands and pulled her back onto his cock when she tried to pull away, making her take every inch. 

His eyes stayed locked on where their bodies connected. Her pussy stretched around him, wet and creamy, white streaks coating his veiny shaft every time he drew back. The wet, rhythmic squelching grew louder as he drove deep and steady. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, his breath heavy. “So wet and creamy… You must really love me, don’t you?”

Ayla’s toes curled hard against the sheets at his words. Her fingers twisted tighter in the fabric, and another moan tore out of her around the bite of the sheet as he yanked her hips back and thrust in again. All she could do was nod and keep moaning helplessly. 

“Mmm… ah ah… Ken… Too much… Ouuuhhh!”

She couldn’t stop shaking. She took it like the good girl she was while he held her hips and fucked her prone, utterly dazed from the pleasure her boyfriend gave her relentlessly. 

Ayla turned her head against the pillow and looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes were half-lidded and glassy, mouth parted, a thin string of spit still shining on her lower lip from earlier. Another shaky moan slipped out of her as Ken drove deep. 

“Ken…”

He didn’t slow his efforts. His hands left her hips and caught both her wrists in one firm grip, pulling her arms behind her back, pinning them there. Her shoulders drew tight. She couldn’t brace herself on the sheets anymore. Every heavy thrust rocked her forward, and her face pressed deeper into the pillow while her ass stayed perfectly up for him. 

“Ah ah ah… K-Ken… Mmph! Ouhh… Hah!”

Her voice came out thin and wrecked. She kept looking back at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted, her body jolting with each stroke. The wet slap of his body against her as his cock filled her only made her more aroused. Cream still coated him, white and slick, dripping down her thighs every time he pulled back. 

“Gah… That’s it,” he grunted huskily. He kept her arms pinned and fucked her harder, eyes locked on where they were connected. “Stay just like that. Hmm… You feel so fucking good, Ayla… Mfuck.”

Ayla moaned his name again and again. It was all she could do, all she could think about. “Ken… ah ah… Ken… mmm… too deep.”

Her toes curled hard against the sheets and her fingers flexed uselessly behind her. She couldn’t do anything but take it, arms trapped behind her, legs splayed wide on either side of his, ass up and bouncing with every thrust. The oversensitivity from her last orgasm still lingered, making every drag of his cock feel sharper. She bit the pillow, then let go of it when another moan was forced out of her. 

He yanked her arms a little higher, arching her back more and grinding in deep. His free hand settled on her hip again, holding her steady so he could keep watching himself disappear into her over and over. The slick sounds, her soft moans, and the way her pussy clenched and creamed around him every time he bottomed out made him hungrier for more. 

“Good girl,” Ken rasped as he slid balls-deep inside her sopping pussy. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Ayla obeyed. She kept her half-lidded eyes on him over her shoulder, moaning his name in the dark while he had her pinned with no chance of escaping until her thighs were shaking and she could barely form words. 

“Ken… ah ah ah… uh uh uh… Nnhhg! I’m gonna—”

Ken finally let go of her arms. They dropped to her sides onto the sheets, limp for a second before she stretched them out in front of her in a sexy little sprawl. He lowered himself over her back, chest settling against her back. His weight pressed her deeper into the mattress. He kept himself buried deep and started rolling his hips again, making slow, tight circles that made her twitch and gasp. 

Their skin became slick with sweat. The room felt hotter. Both of them were breathing hard, steamy pants mixing in the small space between their mouths. Ayla turned her face and rested her cheek against his. Warm. Damp. Flushed. She moaned needily right against his skin. 

“Ken… hah… Mhm!”

He didn’t answer. He just growled and kept the pace, deep strokes that dragged through her soaked pussy. Sweat made everything between them slide. Her arms stayed stretched out in front of her, fingers twisting in the sheets each time he drove in.

Then he shifted his angle. The head of his cock hit that sensitive spot inside her dead on.

Ayla’s eyes widened, and her legs kicked up reflexively. Her toes curled once more, thighs trembling as she let out a sharp cry of pleasure. “Ah! Ouuhhh! Hah!”

He groaned against her cheek and did it again. Harder and deeper this time. He held the angle while he fucked her through it. Her whole body tightened under him, and she came with a pitched, breathless moan. Her pussy clenched and creamed around his cock, walls fluttering hard as the orgasm ripped through her. 

“Ouuuhhhhh! Mmmmpphhhh!”

Her legs stayed kicked up, shaking uncontrollably. She panted against his cheek, feeling even more oversensitive beneath him. She twitched and shuddered hard, her mind melting from the sheer ecstasy washing over her. 

Ken let out a strained groan against her ear as her pussy milked him. Tight, rhythmic squeezes that pulled at his cock with every pulse of her orgasm. He was right at the edge. Sweat slicked his chest and her back. His arms shook as he braced himself beside her head. 

“Augh… fuck… Nhg Ayla—” he rasped as he ground his hips against her. 

He leaned up a little and thrust harder. The wet slap of skin grew louder. Each stroke drove him all the way in, flush to her plush ass. Ayla was a moaning mess beneath him. Basically limp. Her body rocked forward with every thrust while her arms were stretched out uselessly in front of her. She didn’t fight it. It wasn’t like she could have, even if she wanted to. Her body felt like jelly. All she could do was take it. 

“Ah ah ah… uh uh uh… Mm… Ohh—” she moaned in rhythm with his heavy strokes. 

Soft, wrecked sounds were all that she could manage. Her face stayed half buried in the pillow, one cheek pressed to the soft fabric, mouth open and panting. Spit darkened the sheet under her lips. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, staring at nothing while he fucked her. 

He gripped the sheets beside her head and snapped his hips harder. The head of his cock kissed the sensitive spot over and over. Ayla’s legs twitched, and another broken moan spilled out, muffled by the pillow. 

He was losing it. The tight, wet heat of her, the way she took every inch, and the soft, helpless sounds she made made him ravenous. His thrusts turned shorter and rougher. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, grinding in deep as his cock started to pulse. 

“Fuck… Augh— I’m gonna cum,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “Fuck… here it cums… take it!”

Ayla moaned weakly, feeling him throb inside her. “Ah… Ken… Mmmm…”

He came with a rough, broken groan. His hips jerked hard against her ass, short and heavy, as he pumped his thick load into her. Pulse after pulse, she felt his warmth spread, filling her so much it started to leak around his shaft. Her walls fluttered one last time, milking him through it while she lay limp under his weight. 

“Augh… augh… Yes, take it, princess,” he said with a heavy breath, biting his lip as he pumped her full. 

He stayed buried. Sweet dripped from his forehead down her shoulder as the last of it pulsed out of him. Ayla didn’t move. She just moaned softly, overstimulated and full, her body trembling under him in the dark while he finished inside her. 

Ken stayed there for a few more seconds, panting hard to catch his breath. Then, he finally pulled out slowly. A thick string of cum stretched from the tip of his cock to her dripping pussy before breaking and landing on the sheet. More leaked out of her soon after, white and heavy, trailing down her folds in a lewd waterfall. 

He rolled onto the bed beside her and pulled her with him. She went easily, limp, warm, and sticky, until he tucked her against his chest. Her cheek rested on his pec. Her arms stayed loose at her sides, not even trying to hold on. Sweat cooled between them, and his hand settled on her back, rubbing slow, steady circles. 

“You okay?” he asked gently, his voice still a bit rough. 

Ayla mumbled something against his skin. Too soft to catch. Maybe his name. Maybe nothing. A little drool slipped from the corner of her mouth onto his chest. Her eyes were already closed. She twitched now and then, still riding out her lingering orgasms. 

She was out. 

Ken exhaled and kept his hand on her back. He just held her close, taking the time to watch her. Despite how thoroughly fucked she looked, Ayla still had that undeniable prettiness to her he couldn’t get enough of. He smirked proudly and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. He sank deeper into bed and closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the room settle over them as they soon surrendered to sleep.

To be continued...