Emily smiled at him, warm, content. Her ruined makeup only made the moment more surreal—like she wasn't aware of how ridiculous she looked. Or she just didn't care.
Then, she reached for her phone. She sat down and took a photo of the two of them. Karl didn't have time to react—the picture was taken, capturing them without pants, exposing their sensitive parts.
Karl's breath hitched.
His smirk wavered for the first time as his eyes flickered to Emily's phone, to the screen displaying the two of them—side by side in a state neither of them should've been in.
Emily's makeup was a mess, cum and saliva running down her cheeks, her lips still parted as if savoring the moment. Her hoodie was slightly disheveled, her jeans pooled around her knees. And Karl—
Karl wasn't even wearing his damn pants.
His stomach twisted, not out of guilt, but something closer to disbelief.
How had things gotten to this point?