You wake suddenly at the sound of the front door shutting. Emerging from a deep sleep, momentarily confused at being in the spare room. Then you remember moving there so as not to be woken when I came back late from a girls’ night out.
Soft laughter and murmurs from the hall. You listen, still half asleep; and suddenly jolt into full consciousness at the sound of a male voice. Then silence. Lying rigid in the bed, you strain to hear. My soft moan. The man, a stranger here in your home, murmurs a suggestion. My response, light and flirtatious, ends in a giggle.
The bottom stair creaks as it always does; you have been meaning to fix it for ages. Two sets of footsteps. Your mind racing, trying to process what is happening. Silence again. You can almost hear our passionate kiss: mouths urgent on each other; tongues entwined; my fingers twisting in his hair; his hands hard on my pert buttocks, lifting the hem of the little black dress. The sound of a zip being freed; the soft rustle of my dress as it falls to the floor.
More footsteps and then another pause. A shoe hits the skirting board as he kicks it off. A moan as we resume the almost desperate exchange of tongues. His jacket being discarded and falling over the banister to the hall floor below, the keys in his pocket jangling harshly on impact.
Two more steps are climbed and then we pause again. The sound of another zip; his, this time, dragged down by my urgent fingers. The barely audible swish of my bra being removed and cast aside. My soft moan. The thud of his belted trousers landing on the stairs. You lie frozen in place; heart loud in your chest.
Through the half open door of the spare room, you see me, naked except a lace thong and black high-heels. My elegant fingers, adorned by the wedding ring you put on me, holding his manhood, as I lead the stranger across the landing and towards our bedroom. He is tall. He is muscular. He is handsome. Your heart sinks.
Noiselessly, you fold back the duvet and slide from the bed. The irony of being in that single bed is not lost on you in the moment. It adds to the growing sense of humiliation. Almost in a trance, you tiptoe into the shadows outside our room. I left the door open, knowing horrified curiosity would outweigh the urge to bury your head under a pillow and pretend this wasn’t happening.
Standing in the darkness, you see me waiting, legs akimbo, on our bed. Our marital bed. My mound, slick with arousal, is presented to him in erotic invitation. When did I shave it, you wonder. This evening, in preparation? The understanding I had left our home planning to cheat on you stings like the slap I delivered having discovered you in bed with my sister. Karma, babe.
The mattress deforms when he mounts the bed. His body, toned by endless hours in the gym, towers over me. His cock throbs and pulses as I gaze at it, eyes alight with lust. You shake your head in wonder at the size of his manhood. Thick; so thick. Big; so fucking big. You burn with mortification; knowing I am, as you watch, making the comparison with your own, very average, penis; eager to have this one inside me.
“Yes?” A simple one-word question.
“Yes.” A simple one-word reply.
“Tell me,” he growls, watching me fondle my firm, round boobs; fingers tweaking and toying the hard nubs of my protruding nipples. Lips parted with desire.
“I want you to fuck my married cunt until I cum all over your cock.” Cunt. You wince at my use of that word. And yet, your cock twitches.
Hands firm under my inner thighs, he presses the domed head of his cock against my puffy labia. “Please, take me,” I simper in desperate anticipation.
He pauses, a sly grin spreading across his handsome face. “You want me to fuck you in your husband’s bed,” he asks, running his glans along my labia lips; his gruff voice carrying to you as you tremble with shame and a horrified sense of arousal in the dark of the landing.
“I want you to bury your fat cock deep in my adulterous cunt and fuck me until I forget my husband’s name,” I beg, wrapping my shapely calves around his toned arse in an effort to pull him into me. You realise instantly my words are for your benefit just as much as his. Your cock throbs so hard it hurts; for now, you resist the urge to take it in the palm of your hand. It is a battle you know you will lose before too much longer.
Taking my wrists in his strong hands, he pushes my arms up into the pillows. Pinning me there, he presses down and eases his thick shaft deep into my tight little pussy. “Oh, fuck, yes,” I hiss, feeling my walls stretch to accommodate his girth.
Holding me down against the pillows, the stranger begins to fuck me with long, almost languid movements of his hips. “So fucking good; just like that, you magnificent bastard,” I moan, losing myself in the exquisite fullness of his thrusts. You watch my naked body ripple as I match his movements. Your hand strays, trembling, towards your aching cock.
“Your tight little married cunt feels so fucking good wrapped around my cock, babe,” the stranger murmurs hoarsely. His thrusts are slow, powerful, relentless. He can see – you can see – the flush spreading across my pretty face. My soft cries of pleasure, responding to each drive into me, fill your ears. You give in to that shameful temptation; seeing your wife being fucked, you begin to stroke your pulsating muscle.
You watch him move his hands to my pliant hips, and increase the pace. My soft cries have turned into needy sobs now. My tight little pussy gripping his shaft, my fingers clawing at the crisp white bedding, you listen as I beg him to take me deeper, faster, harder. He responds. The headboard is banging against the wall. You watch my toes curl with the almost unbearable pleasure of him mounting me.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes; oh, sweet Jesus, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” I chant in a purr of almost desperate arousal, boobs bouncing and body juddering under his incessant ploughing of it. Your breathing is laboured now; your fist pumping; pre cum seeping from the angry head.
“Cum for me,” he grunts, his sweat dripping down onto me and pooling in the channel between my boobs and in my belly button. “Cum on my unprotected cock in your marital bed,” You watch my eyes lose focus, my breath coming in high-pitched rasps as I plead for release, my fingernails drawing blood from his buttocks as I urge him deeper; before, finally, I spiral over the edge into a climax you could only dream of taking me to. I sob hysterically; my body writhes and bucks beneath him as he pounds me through my orgasm. Broken, you stifle an anguished sob of shame and humiliation; semen pulsing from your cock as you pump yourself furiously, whilst watching me reach earth-shattering release on a stranger’s manhood in our own bed.
Pulling out, he straddles my chest, guiding my hands onto my boobs and pressing them around his glistening length. “Fuck, your tits feel so fucking good wrapped around my dick,” he groans, as I push the soft flesh into a tunnel around his shaft. You watch on helplessly whilst he uses my breasts with increasing vigour.
“Fuck my tits; that’s it, fuck my tits with your cock,” you hear me urge; your eyes wide, watching him jackhammer his cock between your wife’s firm boobs. Our marital bed creaks and rattles with the vigour of his movements.
“Fucking cum on my married tits; I want every last ounce of your cum,” I demand in a slutty tone. You watch miserably, your softening cock leaking over your fingers, as he stiffens and roars in triumphant release, shooting streams of thick sticky mess over the pale flesh of my firm boobs, and up onto my face and chin.
Spent, the handsome stranger rolls away and lies next to me, in your normal place. “Don’t move,” I whisper to him with a mischievous grin, rising from our bed. Padding across to the door, naked and covered in his cum, I guide you back to the spare room. “Try to get some sleep,” I murmur, kissing you briefly on a cheek that is flushed with humiliation, “I’m not finished with him yet.”
