WARNING: The following story is fetish smut, made for perverts who enjoy natural body magic/ modular body magic/ modularity/ detachment/ disassembling people non-lethally. If you are not a member of that community, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.

SECOND WARNING!: The following story contains both gay content and incestuous straight content.  If either of these topics are not your bag, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.

This story was written on comission for https://www.deviantart.com/hela5d

-

"It's not gay, I'm just better at sucking dick!" Mark said for the 3rd time that week. "It's MY dick; of course I'd know how best to suck it!" He was unconvinced, but that never stopped him. "If sucking your own dick is gay, so is jerking it! And everyone jerks it! No matter what the pope says!"

Mark's narcissism left him admiring his own body, proud of how well he'd maintained it over the last 50 years. There were a few wrinkly and saggy patches, sure, and his black hair had been infested with ever expanding gray, but jogging every morning and lifting weights every Monday and Thursday kept him lean and athletic, and his naturally long limbs with their large and expressive hands and feet gave his naked body an uncanny resemblance to a Greek statue. Though, those rarely featured long, plump, slightly curved and fully circumcised erections.

The tip of that dick grazed Mark's narrow nose, filling his nostrils with a savory scent. Staring into the one eyed monster, Mark caught himself licking his lips again and averted his gaze up his shaft, past his pelvis, through his happy trail, between his firm pecs, and finally settling on the empty space his head once permanently resided. Of the many mistakes he'd made over 50 years, going to Mister Myzteri's Magic Hour for his most recent birthday was definitely in the top 3. He'd been looking to either rekindle a lost sense of youth or get belligerently plastered at the open bar, whichever happened first, but somehow he and his wife Rachel wound up the victim of genuine sorcery and gross incompetence. A botched head-swap illusion left them with bodies that disassembled like action figures, requiring nothing but a firm tug, hard knock, or sufficiently sharp object to dismember them!

While their condition made some aspects of life harder, the first time Mark woke to an empty house with raging morning wood he realized he'd received his birthday wish. Every hormone addled youth fantasized about giving himself head, and now he could live out that dream with none of the awkward contortions or neck cramps. For the last month Mark abused this ability every chance he had, and was ingenious at inventing new excuses; he'd only come to the garage to perform his usual Thursday lift session, but at the last minute decided he might as well spare some laundry and work out nude. And then somehow his head wound up detached and set on the cushioned weight lifting bench right before a juicy cock was forced down his throat. Mark closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of his fuzz covered balls slapping his chin with a satisfying smack as his throat stretched accommodatingly around his girth. He'd quickly discovered his extremely weak gag reflex, a quirk he milked to milk himself dry as he ground his musky pubes into his nose and twisted his head side to side.

"God, I fuck way better than Rachel." he thought, feeling guilty thinking that and guiltier still for starving her of sexual attention in favor of self indulgence. But facts were facts and she sucked at sucking. She had no skill or patience to learn, she stopped constantly, choked easily, and she was completely unobservant to-

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!"

Mark's body jumped at the sound, his head rolling back and dropping to the floor where a thick rubber mat saved his head from concussion. It was the magic though that saved his knob from a nasty gash, his jaws snapping shut in panic but his teeth passing harmlessly through his cock, cutting it off at the base.

Mark's neighbor of 22 years and best friend of 20, Sean, was at the garage's side door, looking much taller and buffer from down on the floor. The illusion was soon broken when with a marshmallow gun-like 'fwoomp', Mark spat his severed cock out, and Sean gave a girly "Eep!" as he kicked it away.

"Watch it!" Mark hissed, his cock bouncing off his cheek with a meaty slap and disappearing out of view. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that!" Sean said, eyes darting between the body trying to hide its balls, the head staring daggers into him, and the severed but still fully erect penis. "What is this? How're you alive? Why were you... doing that?"

"Because Rachel's blowjobs blow!" Mark's body folded its arms, posing with a sassy lean as his head rolled his eyes and defensively answered "You'd do it too if you could!"

"But I couldn't!" Sean said, motioning generally at the scattered body parts. "How can you?"

"Long story." Mark said, his body stamping its foot. Hearing himself, Mark carefully walked around the workout bench, guided by his pattering footsteps. "That magic show I took the family to? Turns out the magician wasn't some smoke and mirrors showman but an honest-to-God wizard. Now I can take myself apart." He saw his foot enter his field of view, and bent over carefully to pick himself up. "Uh, I guess the story's not actually that long." He said, tucking his head under one arm as he collected his cock. "But it's not a story I want repeated! EVERYTHING you saw? Strictly between us!"

Sean nodded, and kept nodding, and nodded for uncomfortably long, finally answering "Maybe."

"The hell's maybe?!" Mark demanded. "If this shit gets out, my abilities, my-"

"Relax, nobody's gonna learn about your 'abilities'," Sean said, gently closing and locking the garage's side door behind him. "if you're willing to spare some 'ability' for me!"

"W-what?" Mark stammered, blushing bright.

"You said it yourself, I'd blow me if I could! And Steph? Bless her heart, love of my life, but she only gives head three days a year; Birthday, Father's Day, Valentine's Day. Pure wifely obligation, hates it and lets me know it, sucks all the fun out of sucking!" With surprising swiftness Sean lunged for Mark's head, easily swiping it from his flailing body as it collapsed in a heap. Sean's basketball shorts weren't for show, the college star and scourge of pick-up games for miles was still in top form. "But you? Well, I won't call you a blowjob prodigy just yet, but you were definitely enjoying yourself!"

Mark's body flinched, stumbling to its feet and pointing its still wet dick accusingly at Sean. "I'm not gay! YOU'RE not gay! We have wives!"

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure I've told you I'm bi. If not," he brought Mark's head in for a deep kiss, which Mark was too stunned to return but was clear headed enough to recognize Sean's unreserved passion before he broke it off. "And if it really bothers you, it doesn't have to be anything more than a neighborly bro-job! No-homo!"

"You're terminally online. You know those memes are ironic, right?" Mark said, avoiding eye contact as Sean's sexy smile fucked with his head. He'd unconsciously cast gaze down, and spied Sean's shorts tenting hard enough for the freshly shaved and prickly base of Sean's dick to peek out from behind the stretched elastic waistline.

A month of self-inflicted Pavlovian training made Mark instinctively lick his lips at the sight of hard cock, which Sean took as acceptance. Dangling Mark by his thick mop of black and gray, the head wincing and shooting the stink eye, Sean looped a thumb under his trunks and slipped them over and around his cock. It was even thicker than Mark's, straighter too and likewise circumcised, though Mark took pride that his was longer. Popping a squat, Sean brought Mark's head to the head of his dick, but unlike his ravenous neighbor, Sean allowed Mark to start slow and make himself comfortable. Appreciating the gesture, Mark extending his lips and kissed Sean's precum covered tip. He licked tentatively, getting a feel for the sensation of another man's cock, sampling the taste; the saltiness was subtler, the sweat less present, and the woody taste of Mark's charcoal soap was replaced by a tang of eucalyptus from Sean's body wash.

Mark relaxed. He didn't hate this. He didn't even dislike it. The novelty of a new knob was a breath of fresh air! He met Sean's gaze, then slowly and softly closed his eyes to let him know he was ready. Sean rubbed his thumbs on Mark's scalp, ruffling his hair, and started to pump. It was slower, softer, more intimate than Mark's frantic masturbation, as Sean clearly wanted make the most of this chance for a good suck. Conversely, Mark was wound up and aching to finally bust his nut, and feeling the throbbing cock pulse in his grip gave him an idea.

Mark's parts weren't just detachable, but they could be attached to just about anything too. He hadn't considered the utility until now, when he pressed the base of his cock firmly against his workout bench and with a loud suction sound it instantly fused. The noise caught Sean's attention, who looked down and Saw Mark winking back at him before squeezing his eyes shut and sitting his body down on his new mounted dildo. Mark gave a muffled moan, his virgin prostate and spit lubed dick each sending wild signals up his spine and jumping the gap to his detached head. Feeling his throat vibrate around his shaft, Sean grabbed the head more tightly and, just as Mark planned, started pumping harder. Sean watched Mark's body bounce on his own cock enviously, his legs spread wide and his balls bouncing around joyously as he fucked himself. Sean would have to find that magician and pay him whatever he asked for to get what Mark had, whether the cost be in cash, card, or ass. He fucked the head harder, taking out his envy on his frustratingly smug fellatio toy.

Damn, Mark really was a blowjob prodigy.

-

By karma, fate, bizarre coincidence, or narrative contrivance, Mark's better half was sucking another man's cock simultaneously, though unlike her husband she'd been tricked into infidelity as opposed to being blackmailed. While Mister Myzteri's magic gave John control and sensation of his detached parts, when his wife Rachel was detached her consciousness remained only in the biggest piece of her at time of separation. So when she got talked into removing her head, she became a blind, deaf, and wickedly smart but insecure and extremely gullible mom-bod, her head nothing but an inanimate object with basic stimuli responses.

This was ideal for Rachel's secretary, and nepotism spoiled son, John.

By what was surely coincidence, John had both a MILF fetish and a hot mom, and while he wasn't enough of a freak to fuck his own mom... well, when it wasn't HIS mom, but an empty head and a faceless 45 year old body, John was willing to suspend his disbelief along with his morals.  And John had become adept at getting his mom to willingly take her head off and transform from the woman that raised him into a detached sex fantasy. Two weeks ago it'd been learning to navigate her office blind in case of a blackout, last week she did spring cleaning headless so she wouldn't have to endure her dust allergies, and today it was headless aerobics. She didn't need to breathe without her head allowing her to cram a full work out into her 15 minute breaks without need any breathers.

It was a cheap trick; dad had been too stressed for intimacy lately and mom took it as a sign that he didn't find her attractive any more. John felt bad twisting her heart like that, but when the anonymous body stripped down to a tight pair of black lady-boxers and sports bra and started to build a sweaty sheen as she contorted on the yoga mat, Mark was quick to forgive himself. Seated behind Rachel's ornate desk like he was the boss, John bit his lip and watched the well-aged body pose for him as he fucked his mindless head hard and fast, knowing he had to fix its hair, brush its teeth, and touch up its make up before Rachel's break ended. The head mechanically maneuvered its tongue around John's shaft, big brown eyes staring unblinking into his smoothly shaved pelvis. It was hardly a blowjob, John was basically doing all the work, but it was still a million times better than any silicone toy. No toy was this warm, this wet, this real.

With a final thrust, John blew his load into the back of its throat, the head dutifully swallowing in slow, automatic gulps. "Good job." John said, patting the head and running a hand through its long, soft, light brown hair as he waited for his cock to be clean enough to stuff back in his trousers. "But I'm afraid I'm gonna have to let you go." He said, releasing his grip and allowing the head to slide off his dick and drop to the thickly carpeted floor. "After tonight, your services will no longer be required." He said, zipping himself up as he stared lustfully at the thick, sweaty, gyrating hips he'd soon enjoy.

-

"Sensory deprivation therapy? Like, those water pod thingies?" Rachel asked, scratching her head and wincing. It'd been throbbing ever since her workout, her racing heart causing blood to rush back to her inactive head when it reconnected. That's what John figured, and she couldn't think of something more plausible. Not with such a splitting headache, anyway.

"Kinda, but like, a sensory deprivation tank just simulates weightlessness, bodilessness, blindness, deafness, timelessness, all of it. It doesn't DO any of it. But if you actually ARE without sight, sound, sensation, mobility, everything, then you'd be doing what they only promise!" John explained, pretending to read the article he'd pulled up describing the benefits of sensory deprivation tanks. "Research says it reduces stress, anxiety, lowers blood pressure, even slows aging!" John feigned catching himself and smiled with fake embarrassment "Uh, not that I'm, like... uh.. suggesting you... uh..." he looked back at his phone "I-it also improves circulation and suppresses appetite which can lead to weight... loss... I'm digging myself deeper into this hole, huh?"

Rachel blushed and chuckled good naturedly. "It's alright, John. I didn't take it any sort of way."

But, as planned, she had. Her mind wandered to Mark, how fit the fifty year old kept himself. Rachel hated exercise but was too picky to eat much either, resulting in a cutely squishy figure. That said, as the years added up so too would pounds, and pretending to straighten a crease in her suit, Rachel felt her butt give like uncooked dough. It'd always been a big butt, one her husband loved spanking, but one that got fewer and fewer smacks as her waistline widened. Maybe if this sensory deprivation stuff helped her look younger, feel younger, and gave her the energy she needed to exercise for longer than a few minutes...

"I mean, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try it..." She muttered, scratching her chin.

-

"...But why do we have to do this in the men's locker room?" Rachel hissed, peeking out from the alcove she and John were tucked in.

"I mean, if I'm seen in the women's locker room, I'm going to jail." John pointed out, opening Rachel's conveniently over sized gym bag, emptied of its yoga mat, towels, running shoes, both water bottles, motivational self help books, and other accessories. "But, once your pieces are hidden in the bag, the only piece of you that could be seen is your floating torso." John said, tapping the luxurious tub the company had installed instead of giving paid sick leave to interns.

"And how will you explain that without getting booked as a serial killer?" Rachel demanded.

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm dethawing a ham!" John said, sneering and rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He smiled, breaking character "No one is gonna ask follow up questions to a crazy dude thawing a ham in a company tub, they're gonna move along and then gossip about it in the break room. Everyone will say they're full of shit and that'll be that."

Rachel opened her mouth, but nothing came out. That was exactly how she'd react, both to seeing and hearing about someone dethawing meat down here. She sighed, rubbing her elbow. "I suppose. So, about the disassembly, I was thinking-"

For one instant Rachel felt hands on her cheeks and then her whole world went dark. She dumbly felt around for her face like a cartoon character, her hand passing through the empty air and patting the blank expanse between her shoulders. She was used to being beheaded by now, but John's swiftness managed to surprise her. Was this part of some joke?

John smiled, watching the clueless body blindly wave its arms searching for him while he playfully backed just out of reach. His heart raced; had he mistimed that stunt by even a fraction of a second, Rachel would've felt his kiss just before blacking out. The whole ruse would've unraveled before it began, and he'd be forced to reassemble her and do some unimaginably awkward explaining. The thrill of it, the near miss, brought pain and pleasure as his pants painfully tented and his lips made a mess of the head's gloss. The tent grew only tighter as the body bumped into a bench and, deciding it was done with John's games, shrugged and sat down to start stripping.

While John wasn't much of a foot person, he knew a good pair when he saw one, and watching the body shed its shoes, socks, and then pop its feet off at the ankles like any other piece of clothing... it awakened something. Tucking the head between his thighs, John yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside, took the head by the hair and shed his slacks and boxers with the other hand, and in seconds flat he was in its birthday suit while the body had only just set its feet aside in a cute pair and moved to remove its pants.

Rachel knew nothing of the depraved spectacle, that as she continued to undress her son had moved her head south from his lips to his junk. To her, the world was quiet and serene. The smooth plastic bench, the warm and humid air that met her thighs, silk and cotton composite that slid right off her ankle stumps and into the gym bag. She reached over, picked them up, and carefully folded them, setting them aside with her feet. She was in her lady boxers again, and while some would be embarrassed being seen like this in front of their kids, Rachel reasoned that this was still more concealing than a swimsuit. Besides, as much as she liked to pretend otherwise, John wasn't a kid any more. Sure she still doted on him, sure she may have pulled some strings to fast track him into a higher paying job, but at the end of the day he was a 23 year old man and-

someone grabbed her thigh.

Rachel jolted in alarm. Her stomach told her she was falling, then her shoulder painfully confirmed it. She twisted fearfully, scrambling to stand only to realize all sensation in her left leg had vanished. She jolted again, a hand on her shoulder. She grabbed it. It rubbed her firmly but not forcefully. It slowed down and eased up, patting her a few times and staying still. She felt it.

It was John.

Rachel was relieved, for a moment, then confused, then concerned. Relieved this wasn't some stranger, confused by the aggressive way John had taken hold of her, and concerned by what had gotten into him. First her head, now this?

She didn't move. Through touch, she observed. John's hand slid down and off of her arm, across her side, over her hip, and rested on her remaining thigh. Another hand came, and with a squeeze and a sudden numbness, she was left with only her top two limbs. She suddenly felt vulnerable, blind and deaf and unable to run in a men's locker room, and John... she couldn't feel him. She waited, and still, no sign of him. Was he putting her legs in the bag? Was he getting confronted by some man? Was he...

John tapped the topmost button of her shirt a few times, causing the body to flinch. He needed her to calm down, he'd frightened her. He needed her to trust him. And he needed both hands to hold his toy head without straining his wrists. He was sat down, legs wide and slowly moving the head up and down his shaft as he watched the body unbutton and crawl out of her shirt, getting more comfortable with her returned autonomy. The body hesitated, then rolled onto her belly. She gripped the cute, squishy belly she was so self conscious about and John loved so much, and with a firm tug its waist came away, leaving only a chest and 2 arms. John pulled the head away and set it aside, grabbing the hips and placing a knee on its lower back. John popped the pelvis off the tummy, the empty boxer legs fluttering limply down like surrender flags. He smiled lecherously, tossing the belly into the gym bag along with the legs, pants, and the balled up coat and shirt he'd pulled aside with his toes. Looking back, John was delighted to see the body had all but completed its own disassembly, its left arm limply discarded and its bra straps tightly wrapped up with two detached breasts still slung in their cups.

After unwrapping the tits for a cheeky peek and a nice suckle, John bound the boobs back up and tossed them in with the rest of the bits, followed soon by the left arm and with satisfying pop and meaty thud its mate.

The debreasted, headless, limbless chest rose and feel, breathing deep despite neither needing to or being able to. This was it. All of it. All that was left of it. John cradled it, carried it carefully to the waiting tub of steamy water, and lowered it gently down. It floated much higher than he'd expected, lungs keeping it afloat better than any ham. He shrugged, he knew nobody else was down here anyway. The only people who ever used the shower rooms were off-the-record-overtime suck ups, miserable wage slaves, and people who lived at the office because they hated their home life even more. All these people came either early in the morning or late in the night, not at 6:34pm.

"Now then..." John said, turning from the buoyant body to his newest toy. Picking up the detached rump and seating himself in the same motion, John wasted no time peeling the black boxers away. With no legs bellow nor belly above, and with silky smooth stumps the same color as its normal skin, these hips really did look like an obscenely overpriced sex toy, though digging his fingers roughly into its big round cheeks gave the game away. No toy was this warm, no toy left sweat on his clammy hands or shivered with such lifelike muscle movements, no toy was this... exotic!

John spun the hips around and saw a well trimmed landing strip of orange pubes with exactly one white hair right in the middle of the patch. He didn't know how the owner felt about it, but he had to assume self conscious. Needlessly, John thought, the cute hint of maturity fixing his attention. He brought the hips to his nose, smelled the tea scented soap and sweat of 2 brief but intense workouts, and kissed its carpet. His tongue meandered south, his nose tickled and his fingers tightly squeezing the now reflexively squirming ass. The taste was mild, though he wasn't about to complain; not while his mouth was being put to better use.

Getting his fill of the flavor, John spread his legs and guided his bright-blue condom clad dick to its lips. He wasn't sure if Rachel postmenopausal or on the pill, and he wasn't about to ask her in the days leading up to this stunt. Or any other day, really. Taking a slow breath to calm his racing heart and silence his screaming conscious, John accepted that he was going to hell and slid himself in.

"JeehowAOHughaaaa!"John groaned, eyes rolling and head thrown back in pleasure. He slammed his scalp into the locker behind him hard enough for a clang to echo through the locker room, hardly registering the pain as he squeezed this fine ass tighter. Clearly his dad was gay or had ED; there was no other explanation for him turning down this cooch. Warm, moist, deep, tickling hairs and plump lips, John was worried he'd never be able to use his hands again. Nothing could ever compare to-

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!"

John's hands flew up fearfully, the detached hips launched comically off his dick and landing on the floor cut side down with a wet smack, upturned cunt facing John and big butt facing...

"Who the fuck are you?" John asked, twisting and trying to shield his rock hard cock for all the good that would do. The man before him looked a little older than John, with a dark shadow of recently shaved beard, short black hair, and either a deep tan or ambiguously light-brown skin. He was naked too, though unlike John he had a towel wrapped around his waist and wasn't hard. Yet.

"I'm…" He started, then scratched his stubbly chin. "Uh, maybe we shouldn't do names."

"I... suppose not." John said, eyes narrowing. He didn't recognize this guy, though that was hardly surprising. Their multinational conglomerate had offices from Dallas to Delhi, this building alone had a few thousand employees split across a byzantine web of subdivisions. This was, effectively, a stranger. "So... like, I dunno what you want, but like, can you... y'know. Go away? Please?"

"Well, truth be told, I came down here to beat off before I went home. Hard to find privacy in a multigenerational household. Didn't expect someone else here." He said, propping himself against a locker. "Then I heard you in heat and came to spook you off so I could beat in peace." he looked down at the shapely pelvis between them "But then I saw that fucking thing."

"You... know what this is?" John asked.

"Dude, I'm not twelve. I know what onaholes are." He said, rolling his eyes. "I just never saw one that deluxe before. Looks like the fucking Rolls Royce of sex toys!"

John sighed in relief. "Yeah. Cost an arm and a leg."

"And it looks like you brought spares?" The mystery man asked, pointing his chin at the bench where John had left a lovely head and nice pair of feet. "I'm assuming you don't have multiple dicks. Er, not like... I mean more than one dick on you. Wait, uh..." he blushed. "Look, give me that head and I won't rat you out! I'll even clean it up before I give it back!"

"Rat me out? You don't even know who I am!" John stupidly said. He watched dumbfounded as the mystery man reached into his shower caddy, pulled out his phone, and snapped a picture of John's stupid face. "Ah." John said, realizing he'd walked right into that one. "Alright, fine. But be careful! If you break her..."

"Freudian slip much?" teased the mystery man, pushing himself off the locker and allowing his towel to fall to the ground in the same motion. Grabbing the head, he whistled at the heft of it as he sat on the bench just opposite John. "Damn she's heavy. Who's she modeled off? She rings a bell..."

"Uh, unlikely. Custom face. You can... get that done." John lied, "Not cheap."

"Nothing good is." He joked, admiring the lifelike warmth and elasticity of its skin, the subtle wrinkles and pores, even-

Mystery man looked up and saw John with a shit eating grin and a cellphone, which had just flashed and saved a photo of the blackmailer. He blinked stupidly, then casually smiled. "Touché. We'll delete our pics together." He said, kicking the wayward waist back over to john as he brushed the head's hair back and almost kissed it before realizing where its mouth had probability been. He settled on shoving his dick in it.

Watching what had just this morning been his toy getting played with by another smug fucker filled John with a strange mix of jealousy and horniness. He clenched his teeth, his cheeks reddened, and he cast his gaze down at his feet. Sitting between them was his own twitching cock clad in blue rubber and a sex toy of his own making. Or one that made him, he supposed. He grabbed it greedily and shoved himself into the first hole his dick happened to find its way into. This happened to be the one between the butt, which slapped into his pelvis with a satisfying heft and a loud smack and gently tightened around his dick. He pumped it again, harder still, hoping the lubricated rubber would soften the soreness later. Hard to tell how rough he was being with a partner that didn't actually feel anything.

"Fuck... yeah..." Mystery Man said, face fucking his toy more rhythmically but picking up speed as he watched John angrily fuck his. This passion only got John's blood up more, the way this smug dick seemed to be enjoying the show, and in kind John decided to give him a show. That'd show him! Right

John pounded the ass like it was about to be taken away from him, heavy slaps filling the air along with the Mystery Man's moans of delight as the head's rudimentary senses kicked in and started to play along. He watched John's toy, fantasizing about how it'd feel even as his was serving admirably, while John stared at the borrowed toy reminiscing about all the memories he'd made screwing it. They both sped up, jealousy turning to competition as they fought to out-fuck the other. Mystery Man chuckled as he struggled for breath, while John gave a sneering snicker as sweat poured down his forehead. They each had to admit, for all the frustrations this was way more fun with more people!

CLICK!

John and mystery man blinked. They'd both stopped fucking. Neither of them had a camera in their hands. They turned in unison, and spied a new mystery man, this one a huge hairy bear with an already rock hard cock. He lowered his phone to reveal a big round face blushed as his ginger beard.

"Uh... wasn't expecting other people down here." He said, his voice surprisingly soft and quiet.

"And you followed the sounds of sex anyway?" Said Mystery Man the first, pulling the severed head off his cock and setting it on the bench beside him, facing Mystery Man the sequel.

"Uh... to be honest, I thought you guys were doing each other. Casual office sex... guess I read too much smut..." He said, scratching his thick neck and averting his gaze from the toy still mindlessly sucking on air.

John took a deep breath, then let out a long, frustrated huff. "... you like feet?" he asked, jerking his head at the pair sat beside him. "You delete that photo and I'll let you borrow my spares, though the originals are off limits!"

The man nodded excitedly, stepping into the now crowded corner. John would have to gaslight harder than he'd ever gaslit Rachel before when all was said and done...