[KSBJ-429] At My Husband’s Seventh-Day Rite, My Step-Son and Friend Served a Night Banquet, Leading to a Miscarriage Before the Portrait

The incense still hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the scent of sweat and sin. My husband’s portrait watches from the altar, his painted eyes following every depraved act. My stepson’s hands are rough on my thighs, pulling my mourning dress up around my waist. “You’ve been so lonely, haven’t you, stepmom?” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck. His friend’s mouth is on my cunt, tongue probing deep, tasting the grief and arousal mingling there. I’m supposed to be grieving, but their cocks are hard and ready, and my body remembers pleasure even as my heart aches. The portrait’s gaze is a silent accusation, but it only makes me wetter.

They take turns using me on the tatami, my body a vessel for their lust. My stepson’s friend pounds into me from behind while my stepson shoves his cock down my throat. I gag and drool, tears streaming down my face—from sorrow or ecstasy, I can’t tell. The portrait’s painted smile seems to mock me. “Your husband would want you to be happy,” they say, and I moan in agreement, letting them flip me over, spread me wide. Their cum mixes with my juices, dripping onto the floor where the memorial flowers have fallen. I feel something tear inside me, a sharp cramp that makes me scream.

Blood pools beneath me, a dark stain spreading on the white fabric. The cramping intensifies, and I know what’s happening—the life I didn’t know I carried is leaving my body. My stepson’s eyes widen in horror, his cock still slick with my fluids. “Fuck, she’s bleeding!” his friend shouts. But I can’t stop looking at the portrait, at my husband’s serene face. Did he know? Did he curse me from beyond? As the miscarriage takes hold, I feel a perverse relief—now I’m truly empty, ready to be filled with nothing but sin.