I’d been looking forward to spending time with my husband. So, when he came home and told me he had made plans to meet an old friend at the movies, I was a little mad. Then he told me he wanted to go alone (but I could go if I really wanted to or didn’t trust him) and I got a little jealous.
I did trust him though. I didn’t feel threatened by his friend, I knew her and I knew him. Nothing was going on between them and I was confident in that.
I was just lonely and had already gotten dressed up before he got home. He didn’t notice. Any of it, the hair, makeup, dress, heels. He definitely didn’t notice the skimpy lingerie I had on underneath.
I felt pretty shitty about myself after that. I don’t really know what I expected, but just a “You look great, by the way,” would have been nice. Instead I barely got a kiss on the cheek as he rushed back out the door a few minutes after getting home.
I just wanted a pick me up. I wanted someone to tell me I looked nice, maybe dance with me for a little bit. So, instead of taking a shower and going to bed early, I decided to have an adventure. I took a cab to the airport. A weekend trip just for me, somewhere fun, somewhere not too far away. I’d call my husband when I got there, the movie should be just about over by the time I arrived.
I walked around the airport, kind of aimlessly for a while as I contemplated backing out and just heading home. There’d been absolutely no messages from my husband, not even just an indication that he might miss spending time with me. I was sad.
As the time passed, I became sadder. I went to a bar at the airport and found a table in a back corner away from everyone else and ordered a bottle of wine. The bartender gave me a funny look, but I just wanted the whole thing. I wanted to drown my sorrows in rancid fruit juice and wallow in self pity, when I was done I’d give it to the next saddest looking person in the bar.
Needless to say, I backed out of flying. I watched people come and go, happy couples drinking together, some looked as though they were either heading to or coming home from their honeymoons. I missed that ‘can’t keep your hands to yourself’ stage of my relationship.
My husband had always had a low sex drive, but when we were first together, right through to a few years after we were married, he placated me with sex, but I was always the one initiating. So, one day I just stopped initiating. A few days turned to months without sex and he didn’t even notice. It made me feel like shit, to be honest. I felt undesirable, unwanted, but he still showed me love in other ways.
He spent time with me, doted on me, he bought me supplies for my hobbies and my favorite toys from my c***dhood that once brought me comfort. He just didn’t initiate sex for months at a time. I was masturbating multiple times a day, often followed by crying, just because my sex drive was 100x higher than my husband’s was.
Don’t get me wrong, when we had sex it was amazing, very intense and satisfying, it was just incredibly infrequent.
So, when a stranger came up to me and commented on how nice I looked, even though I knew he was lying as I was ¼ way through my bottle of wine and had already started and stopped crying three times at that point, I was essentially putty in his hands. He was a handsome guy, fairly tall, a little on the heavier side with dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He had an accent of some sort, but for the life of me I can’t remember where he said he was from. It was a nice accent though.
As he helped me through another 1/2 of the bottle of wine, we both complained of being invisible to our partners. It seemed as though we had similar problems with our partners while still completely loving them. I stopped drinking shortly after he sat down with me. He had a few more glasses of the wine as we talked. He played a song on the jukebox and grabbed my hand, we danced for a little while.
I had stopped crying. I was laughing instead. He kept sliding his hand from my lower back down to my butt and I kept pushing it back up to my back as we danced. I just wanted to feel better about myself and he was definitely getting me there by giving me attention and complimenting me, but it was becoming clear quite quickly that he had intentions towards me that I didn’t reciprocate.
I didn’t feel as though I was leading him on. We were talking about our spouses, I was clear that I loved my husband in spite of everything. I don’t think I crossed any wires that would give the indication that I was open to more than chatting and dancing together.
But dancing quickly escalated as he led me towards the bathrooms. I tried to pull away from him but he grabbed my arm and whispered to me, “This isn’t the first time he’s chosen her over you is it?”
I didn’t answer. He wasn’t wrong, but they had been friends a lot longer than I’d known him. Every time he chose to spend time with her there was a reason for it, most often she was dealing with some shit and he was a sounding board for her. I’d never seen any hint of him cheating on me with her.
I got my arm free of him and backed up into the wall behind me, “I think we’re done here,” I said as I put my hand on the wall to steady myself. I kept him in front of me and kept my back to the wall as I made my way back out to the main part of the bar. I was fairly drunk, but I wouldn’t say I was incapable of making decisions for myself.
The bartender watched me for a minute before coming over to my table, “Do you need a cab?” he asked.
I nodded, “Please?”
He smiled at me and helped me out to the curb. The one great thing about airports with bars is that cabs were readily available to pick you up, no waiting needed. I fumbled around in my purse and gave him a few $20 bills as a tip and a thank-you. I made it back home, managed to run me a bath and fell asleep not long after I washed the gross feeling off of me.
My husband came home to find me fast asleep in a tub of lukewarm water. He drained the tub and wrapped a towel around me without even waking me. I do remember him picking me up and carrying me to the bed. He asked me if I was okay and I just nodded. What else was there to say?
I felt incredibly ill the next morning so I called out of work. I tried to talk my husband into calling out and spending the day with me instead, but he had a deadline looming and it wouldn’t look good to the rest of the team. I understood.
So he went to work, and I stayed home, alone. I replayed the events at the bar in my head and wondered if I’d made the right choice. The man I’d danced with wasn’t wrong in that my husband had chosen this friend over time with me before on quite a few occasions and he tended to make me feel guilty over being jealous of their relationship, but I just wanted him to choose me when the opportunity to choose between us came up from time to time.
I spent the morning dealing with the headache that came along with drinking on an empty stomach and not drinking enough water in between. Then around noon I was surprised with the doorbell ringing and someone knocking on my front door. I wasn’t exactly dressed up like I had been the night before. My makeup was much softer and barely there, my hair was down and fell in long ringlets of curls over my back and shoulders, and I was in jeans, a tank top and a button up shirt with the front tails tied into a knot at my mid-stomach rather than buttoned at all, and no socks or shoes.
The bartender from last night stood at my door, though he looked a little confused when he looked me over, “Were you at the...” he started.
“Airport bar last night? Yeah. How’d you know where I lived?” I asked, a bit defensively as I crossed my arms over my chest.
He held up my phone, “You dropped it at some point. When I saw the name and address on the lock screen, I recognized your name.”
I nodded, “It is mine. I didn’t even realize it was missing, thank you,” my arms relaxed to my sides and I felt a little foolish.
He bowed slightly, “You tipped me 80 bucks on a $40 bottle of wine that you only partially-finished, returning your phone to you was the least I could do.”
I looked my phone over and looked back to him, “Do you want to come in for a bit? The tip was for not being a jerk and actually making sure I got a cab, I feel like I owe you lunch for making a trip all the way out here.”
He smiled and handed me a flyer to a local bar, “Why don’t you and your husband come out to see my band play this Friday instead? I actually live in the area and I’m fairly new here. I could use a friendly face in the crowd for some support.”
“What kind of music do you play?” I asked.
“A mix of grunge and metal. We do covers from both genres and a few original pieces I wrote.”
“Alright, we’ll see you there,” I said with a smile.
He ran his hand through his hair, a blush on his cheeks as he turned and left.
I thought it was a little odd, but sweet. I put the flyer on our fridge and went about my day with slightly lifted spirits. When my husband got home I told him about the event and he sighed deeply, “I made plans with Mallory that night.”
“Oh,” I looked to the ground and huffed a little, “Are there any nights available for your wife to see you any time soon or should I compare calendars with Mallory to ensure I can accommodate her schedule for you?” I asked. I had been trying to not show that it upset me, but I mean...yeah, it upset me and I got snarky.
He sighed again, “I haven’t spent time with her in months and she’s leaving in another week, are you really going to get mad at me for this?”
I shook my head, “No. It’s fine. I’m sorry,” I didn’t mean any of it, but I really wasn’t good with confrontation.
It took all I had to not pull away when he leaned over to give me a kiss on my forehead, “Thank you,” he said.
I tore up the flyer and threw it in the trash. I stayed as busy as possible over the next few days, pretty much working late then going to the gym then going home and going to bed. I kind of wanted to minimize interactions between me and my husband. Maybe if he had time to miss me he’d want to spend time with me again.
Things went as they normally did the morning of the concert. I went to work and was prepared to go straight to the gym then go home and go to bed. But I got a text from my husband that upset me, “Going to pick Mal up straight after work, won’t be home ‘till late.”
I went home and took a long shower then I stepped out of my comfort zone. I had some clothes I’d bought a while back that I had planned to return but never did. I got them on a whim and while I liked the way I looked in them, my husband thought they just didn’t look right on me. I think what he meant to say was he was uncomfortable with the attention they would bring.
So, I did my makeup with a deep purple smokey eye with a playful silver shimmer to play up the green in my eyes with a heavy winged liner and a deep purple-red lipstick. The makeup combination with my dark red curly hair pinned up messily around my head made me look paler than normal, but it definitely matched the grunge/metal aesthetic.
Slightly less fitting was the cream-colored fuzzy off the shoulder sweater, distressed black jean button waist ruffled miniskirt and eggplant colored leather moto-jacket. I liked the way it looked on me, it had a fun flirty-ness to it, but I was fairly covered up even when I took the jacket off. A simple black choker, silver studs, a garter belt, thigh high black stockings, and purple leather boots that fell about mid-thigh on me completed the look.
I almost backed out a few times as I looked myself over in the mirror with my jacket on and off. I felt cheap in what amounted to a $600 outfit. But, I also felt like me. The most like me I’d felt in a long time, actually. I left my cell phone at home, left everything but some cash, my house key and my ID actually. Skirt was tighter than I remembered it being and those were the only things I could easily fit in the teeny tiny pockets that adorn female clothing and I didn’t want to bring a purse.
I hopped in my cab and told him the address. The driver smirked as he looked me over in the rear view mirror. I glared. I was regularly told I didn’t look my age. I was 25 and still often treated like I was 16. I’d even had my ID taken away a few times by bartenders that didn’t believe it was real, essentially throwing a fit and having to call my husband to verify my age, which was humiliating. It didn’t help that my husband was in his 40s and was often treated as though he was a predator when we were out together.
I sighed in the backseat, maybe that was the problem, he was sick of being seen in public and having to defend our relationship. Mallory was in her mid-thirties, I bet he never had to defend himself when he was out with her.
We arrived at the bar and I paid and tipped the driver, but I docked his tip a few bucks because of that unnecessary smirk. Only reason he didn’t lose the whole tip was because he didn’t try to flirt or talk to me at all.
I felt incredibly out of place when I walked into the bar. Not because of my outfit, that blended perfectly with the majority of the patrons, but more because I hadn’t really been around people my own age in a long time. I felt like a fraud.
I saw the bartender up on the stage, he was the singer, apparently, I took him more as a guitarist to be honest. He saw me, but I don’t think he recognized me as I sat at a table near the bar and quietly watched him. Other people were dancing along with the music and some were singing. A waitress came over to me and I ordered a fruity drink, something fun and sweet.
I watched the crowd and it occurred to me that there’s no way he hasn’t played here, or at least in the area, before. Needing a friendly face in the crowd was nothing more than a line. Though I wasn’t sure why he invited both me and my husband if that were the case. He finished a couple more songs and then the band took a break.
He pushed past his groupies and came over to where I was sitting, “This is twice in a week I’ve seen you sitting and looking lonely in a bar.”
I smirked and swirled the straw around my drink, “This is twice in almost a year I’ve actually been in a bar. I didn’t think you’d recognize me.”
“As a bartender, you never forget a big tipper,” he smiled and looked around as a few girls grimaced and scowled in my direction, “Is your husband coming later?”
I laughed slightly, “No, just me I’m afraid.”
His smile grew slightly, “We have four more songs in the set, then maybe you and I can go for a walk along the waterfront?”
I nodded, “Alright.”
He grabbed my drink and took a quick swig of it and made a face, “Holy hell that’s sweet.”
I laughed, much more genuinely, “The sweeter the drink the longer it takes me to get through it.”
“Well, that’s a new one for me,” he took another big swig of my drink and headed back for the stage.
I looked at my drink and smirked at him, flirting. He was definitely flirting. I watched him sing the rest of his set, the women who’d been glaring and scowling at me were probably closer to my husband’s age than mine or the bartender’s age. They came over to my table and tried to pick at me, but I’d grown a thick skin over the years and ignored them as I watched the band.
I could see him getting irritated as the set went on and the women hovered near me, talking about me fairly loudly and throwing around words like ‘whore’, ‘harlot’, ‘skank’, and my favorite, ‘jail-bait.’ I just rolled my eyes and tried to focus on the songs, my smile grew the worse the ladies said and the bartender seemed to get his focus back on the band.
When the set was over he came down off the stage and ran straight over to me and kissed me deeply. I held my hand up, about to push him away, but he locked his fingers between mine and pulled me up from my seat. He was smiling at me when he pulled out of the kiss, and didn’t look away for a second as he spoke to the groupies, “Ladies, I’d like you to meet my lovely wife, Claire. I hope you all were welcoming her to her first show in our new town?”
The women ranged from blushing with embarrassment to nodding fervently, pleading in their eyes for me to not say anything about what they were saying about me as I looked at them. I tilted my head to the side, “Actually, L-love,” it occurred to me that I didn’t know his fucking name mid sentence, “they were telling me how much they enjoyed the band. I don’t think they even realized my connection to you.”
He laughed a little, knowing full well they hadn’t said anything of the sort. He turned and bowed to the other women, “Ladies, I’ve promised the Missus here a walk around the waterfront, so until the next show,” he winked and smiled at them and turned back to me and led me out the front door.
“Don’t you have to help your band break things down?” I asked.
He shook his head, “I told them a friend might show up and I wanted to leave with her right after the set. They are splitting my share for the gig, so they were remarkably cool with it.”
“And if my husband had come with me?”
“Well, I had a plan to lure him into the bathroom and have one of my band-mates hold the door closed, but I’m happy to see that wasn’t necessary,” he said as he laughed.
“Why invite both of us if you only wanted me to come?” I asked.
He shrugged, “Because I knew you were married and it would look really desperate if I only invited you.” He looked over at me and smirked as he put his arm around my waist and pulled me a little closer to him, “So, Love, huh?”
I blushed, though I doubted he could see it in the poor lighting along the waterfront, “I don’t know your name,” I said as I laughed a little.
“Chase. I probably should have offered that bit of information before claiming to be your husband, huh?”
I nodded, “Ya, think? Luckily I think pretty quick on my feet.”
“So, how awful were they?” he asked as his hand slid up and down my hip.
“Pretty fucking awful but nothing I hadn’t been called since middle school,” I said with a sigh.
His fingers sneakily slid under the hem of my sweater and pressed into my skin as we walked together. I couldn’t help but smirk, “Your hand is very cold, you know?”
He chuckled, “No it’s not. My hand is perfectly normal temperatured. I think that sweater is just making you overly warm.” He looked me over and we stopped walking, “Do you want me to move my hand?” he asked.
I shook my head, “Not yet.”
“I’m glad you didn’t deck me for kissing you by the way. You would’ve been justified,” he said.
I nodded, “I absolutely would have been justified, but it’s been some time since I’ve been kissed like that.”
“Well, that’s an absolute sin,” he turned me towards him and put his hands on either side of my face as he kissed me again.
It still startled me and took me by surprise, but this time I put my hands on his chest and kissed back. I have no justification for it. Being lonely doesn’t make it okay, being horny doesn’t make it okay, but I don’t feel guilty about it either.
My husband had every chance in the world to meet my needs and he repeatedly ignored them. My husband should have been on my mind, but all I could think of was how nice Chase smelled and how nice his lips felt on mine.
When he pulled away from me he was smiling and I bit my lip. I looked around and grabbed his hand, pulling him into an alley between a couple rows of businesses. I pressed him up against the first brick building and kissed him again. My hands fumbled with his belt and jeans for a minute, but I got on my knees as he put the back of his hand against his mouth, trying to stifle his own moan as my lips closed around his cock.
Had the lighting been better people would have been able to see us as I very needily took his uncut cock down my throat and he gripped my neck and hair, guiding my rhythm just a little. Pushing his foreskin back with my tongue made him shiver and I thought he might cum as my hand stroked the covering of his dick down to expose the more sensitive tip. My tongue traced beneath the tip and I once again moved my lips over him until the head of his cock found its way down my throat. He held me against him for a few seconds, savoring the feel of me before he pulled me back and off of his cock completely.
I coughed, his cock was thickly coated in my saliva and he pulled me up to my feet and pushed my back up against the wall. He kissed me and I smiled and kissed him back. My tongue teased his and I bit his lower lip gently.
His hand slid up my inner thigh and into my underwear, I moaned softly as his finger easily slid along my inner lips. His finger traced over my clit, which was already swollen and throbbing just from the anticipation of being fucked. He pulled my panties down to my knees and the fell to the ground. He didn’t even hesitate when he realized just how much I wanted this.
He picked me up and pushed himself in me as he balanced my back on the brick wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pumped into me. One of his hands left my ass just long enough to pull my top down until my breasts were uncovered then it went right back down help hold me up for him to get a deep and hard thrust going.
I moaned and he kissed me then lowered his lips to my breasts, licking and sucking the nipples in turn as he pushed me into a sitting position against the wall. His lips kissed and sucked along my exposed skin, his teeth pulled at my neck and he grunted in my ear as his thrusts became almost painfully deep.
I couldn’t really control myself as I gasped and whined softly, “Harder.”
He heard my plea and delivered, bucking his hips into me, I wrapped my arms over his shoulders and he lifted me away from the wall slightly, I bounced on his cock and he grunted and groaned, “I’m gonna cum...”
I kissed him and continued bouncing, his dick was deep in me and he still tried to pull me tighter to his hips as he filled me with his cum. He was panting and I was squirming and whimpering.
He smiled and kissed me before pulling his cock free of me and standing me back up on the ground, “How about we go back to my house and we continue where we don’t run the risk of a public indecency charge.”
I fixed my skirt and top and nodded. He tucked himself away and picked up my panties then led me back out to the main strip along the waterfront, looking for a cab, which turned out to be easier to find than I thought it would be. In the ride home he kept leaning over and kissing my neck and rubbing my thigh. The cabbie adjusted his mirror a few times, I’m assuming trying to get a better view, but it’s also possible he was trying to be respectful.
Chase gave him the slightest show, if he was watching, as he tugged my top down just enough to show the tops of my areolae, kissing along my skin and groping me the whole way back to his house, which was a lot closer than a few blocks away from my home. He was basically six houses down on the next block over.
I adjusted my clothes as we got out of the cab. The cabbie nodded to him with a smirk as he paid for the ride. Yeah, he was definitely adjusting the mirror to watch. Chase was much more civil as we made our way up his front walk way. He actually put a little distance between us, making it look a little more respectable than it was for my sake most likely.
I looked around his house, it was one of the nicer houses on the block and it got me curious as he started kissing my neck again. I pulled away just slightly, “Do you have any roommates or anything?” I asked.
“No,” he said, barely lifting his lips from my skin.
He pulled me down the hall and stood behind me as we stopped at a large mirrored wall. His hands trailed under my jacket and over my body, his lips nestled against my cheek. He looked at my reflection, “You know this look suits you much more than that lonely housewife thing you had going on at the airport.”
I smirked, “I was a lonely wife, but not a housewife.”
He pulled my jacket off of my shoulders and kissed from my neck down to where my sleeve began to cover my arm, “So you aren’t just your rich older husband’s arm candy?”
I shook my head, “I actually out earn him in a good year.”
He looked intrigued by me, “Huh. What do you do?” he asked.
“I’m an architect. What about you? Is tending bar and playing in a band your whole career?” I asked.
He nodded, “They pay the bills 90% of the time, so that’s good enough for me.”
I laughed a little, “And the other 10% of the time?” I asked.
“I sell my blood and plasma. I model here and there, too. Mostly though, I just cut expenses that month as much as possible. The house I inherited, which makes it a hell of a lot easier to be a dreamer,” he said with a big smile. “Do you have any dreams you wish you had pursued, Claire?”
I smiled and bit my lip before I responded, “Not so much a wish that I had pursued it, but a curiosity of how fulfilling it would have been for me.”
He began unbuttoning my skirt at the hip, watching me in the mirror as he continued, “What was it?”
I blushed deeply as he worked my skirt off my hips and let it fall to the floor. My voice struggled to say it, “Anything involving getting paid for sex. I just...”
He looked me over in the mirror, his smirk grew as his hand slid down to my inner thigh. My panties were still in his pocket from the alley, so the mirror reflected my waxed pussy framed by a garter belt and thigh high stockings for his viewing pleasure. His smile turned into a devilish smirk as he whispered to me, “I think your husband is a madman for not keeping you satisfied.”
His hand slipped between my thighs and I clenched my fists at my sides as he pushed his fingers into me. I was still quite wet and wanting, but his cum had been leaking down my thigh, drying against my skin for the past half hour, which made me feel just the slightest bit insecure. He watched my reflection as I bit my lip and stiffened up. The back of his palm pressed down against my clit and his index and middle fingers went deeper into me. I was looking to the ground, almost shamefully avoiding eye contact with either of our reflections.
His breath was warm on my ear, “Have you ever watched someone make you cum before?”
I shook my head and he used his other hand to grip my chin and lift my face as he curled his fingers inside of me. His fingers were slick with my juices and what was left of his cum as he began a quick series of hard pressing and rubbing against the forward wall of my pussy. Every time I moaned I tried to break eye contact with our reflections, but he just tightened his grip on my jaw until my eyes were on his eyes or his hand between my thighs.
I grabbed his arm as my stomach tightened, nearing orgasm. I tried to look away and he snapped at me, “Watch yourself cum, Claire,” as his hand moved from my jaw to my throat. I brought my eye back to the mirror and he pressed his cheek to mine as the back of his palm rubbed up and down on my clit as his fingers pushed hard and fast against that sensitive inner wall.
My ability to stand up failed me, and his grip on my neck tightened as he felt the contractions rippling through my pussy, as thick clear fluid flowed down his hand and along my thighs. The only thing holding me up was his hand around my throat and his fingers and palm cupped against my throbbing pussy. Breathing seemed unnecessary as he lowered me to the ground on my knees, but I gasped as much as moaned when he released my throat and rubbed either side of it. I was sure it would bruise and I didn’t know how to explain that away to my husband.
I was panting as I caught my breath, kneeling on my hands and knees. He pulled my legs apart and pushed my hips upwards as he climbed behind me and buried his tongue in my slippery cunt. I shivered, still not completely over the orgasm he’d just brought me to and he knew it. His teeth pulled at my swollen pussy lips then the tip of his tongue darted back and forth across my clit. I was still trembling as he smacked my ass rather hard.
“Do you want to cum again?” he asked, his hands took the place of his mouth as he looked at my kneeling and desperate reflection in the mirror.
He smirked, “Sit up on your knees and pull your top off.”
I did as I was told and he was quite happy to see that he had full view of my body in the mirror. One of the reasons my husband disliked the shirt was my unwillingness to wear a bra with it, Chase didn’t have that complaint at all. He watched my breasts rise and fall as I moaned, my hands slid over my neck and down my chest. He stopped teasing me just long enough to pull his shirt off and slide his pants down to his knees as he knelt behind me on the floor.
“Play with your clit and keep your eyes on your pussy,” he said as he lifted me back towards his lap.
I did as I was told, my right index and middle finger slid back and forth across my clit, rubbing in little circles then up and down and I watched the light reflecting off of my slick pussy as he pushed his cock up and into me. With my pussy lips spread I could see his cock stretching me open, I moaned and almost closed my eyes, but he pinched my nipple and bit my shoulder.
I rubbed my clit and he lifted me up slightly with each thrust upwards. My breasts bounced and his eyes shifted from my cunt to my tits as he fucked me. He kissed and sucked on my shoulder and whenever I tried to close my legs he slapped my thigh and pulled them back open.
The few times he didn’t make me look at his cock pounding me was when I turned my head and looked directly into his eyes while I whimpered and moaned. He smiled and kissed me each time then directed me to look between my legs again.
He groaned as I started rubbing my clit faster and rocked my hips. His thrusts became hard and deep and his hands went up my body, one groped and grabbed my breasts and the other my hip, pulling me tightly onto his cock with each thrust. My hips were grinding against his and I watched as my stomach clenched and my pussy pulled him deeper into me.
He grunted in my ear and his next few thrusts resulted in some of his load being pulled back out of me on his cock. He was still hard and ready, but he pulled me off of his lap and I immediately turned and lowered my lips to his cock. It clearly took him by surprise as he groaned, “Fuck.”
I looked up at him, his cock was already pushed deep into my throat, and he grabbed my hair and thrust his hips up into my mouth deeper. I gagged and he held me down on his cock for a few seconds then started fucking my mouth more than I was blowing him. He leaned up on his knees and pulled my head tightly down against his hips as his cock twitched and spurted down my throat.
When he pulled his cock away, there was a slight pop as he dislodged himself from my throat, a thick trail of cum and spit followed him. I had started tearing up and my makeup smeared as he used my throat as his fucktoy. I gasped and sat back, catching my breath and he looked a little concerned.
“You okay?” he asked as he wiped some of the cum and spit mixture off of my lower lip. I nodded and half smiled.
I looked at his cock, it was beginning to soften, and I was slightly disappointed. I get it, he’d already gone longer and more than my husband ever had, but I have to admit I was a little sad for it to be over already. He seemed to pick up on my disappointment and he leaned over and started kissing my neck and chest as I continued to catch my breath from the fairly rough throat fucking. He was stroking himself, working to regain a hard on as he savored the taste of my breasts. He kept stroking and guided me to open my legs and he leaned down and sucked and licked my clit.
He was almost hard again, and I was squirming as he alternated between a couple of fingers and his tongue on just my clit and he sat up and pulled my mouth back down onto his cock. I had control this time and I bobbed my head up and down almost as roughly as he had, coating his cock in my spit and getting him nice and solid again.
He pulled me away by grabbing a fistful of my hair and lifting me straight from his cock to his lips as he kissed me deeply and guided me onto my back. He pushed my legs up until I was practically folded in half and looked down at me, “Hold your legs right like that, okay?” I nodded and locked my hands behind my knees.
He squatted down between my legs and positioned his cock at my pussy, his spit coated cock easily slipped into my wet pussy. He got his hands under my hips and pulled my pussy up to him. My clit throbbed as he controlled my hips and lifted me to his cock over and over again. He watched me as I bit my lip, my eyes on his cock as I held my legs spread as wide and open as I could possibly keep them.
“Can you reach your clit while you hold your legs like that?” he asked as he pulled me up on his cock a little harder.
I repositioned my right hand so that it was mostly my arm keeping my leg pulled back, my fingers slid around my clit as he watched intensely. “Can you cum for me,” he asked as he grunted and groaned as he pulled me up to him.
I nodded and began rubbing my clit a little faster and he began altering the angle he pulled me up to his cock, lifting me a little higher or pushing me a little lower to mimic a rocking motion. My legs began to push back at my arm and hand as I panted and moaned. My breath quickened and my chest flushed a slight pink. He looked me in the eye as he felt my body contracting in his grip and he dropped me down to the floor and lowered himself into a kneeling position. He penetrated me faster and harder, his hands on the backs of my knees, pinning my legs spread wide as I arched my back and actually started crying as I orgasmed.
He made a few more thrusts, but he was spent and barely managed to handle that last erection. My legs ached as he let go of them and I let them go back to their natural position. He laughed and fell onto his back on the floor beside me, “So, you’re not going home tonight right? I mean, I just need an hour, maybe two...”
I was panting and half-laughing as I turned my head to look at him, “My husband will worry if I don’t come home tonight.”
He nodded, “Maybe he deserves to worry for a night and maybe you deserve to be fucked raw for once.”
I laughed and he started biting my neck and groping my breasts, “I thought you needed an hour or two?”
“I do. I never said you did,” he said as he smiled at me.