“Why would you bring that up?”
He just shrugged, unzipping his pants.
“Thirty-eight years. Does it matter?”
“Probably matters to your husband. But if it doesn’t matter to you, it doesn’t matter to me.” He had his cock in his hand. “Come here.”
I dropped to my knees and took his cock in one hand and his balls in the other. I liked feeling it grow in my hand.
Impatient, he put his hand on my head and drew me to him. “Make it hard. Show me what you’ve got.”
I leaned forward, took him into my mouth, and began.
“Oh, yeah, baby, just like that.”
It surprised me how much I wanted to tease him, to please him, to swallow his come. To assert my power over him. To affirm my desirability.
Later, after he’d gone, I looked at myself in the mirror while brushing away the taste of his spunk. I was a little puzzled to see, looking back at me, a woman – faithful wife no more – who was pleased with herself and not the least bit remorseful. It had been a long time since I’d felt so alive.
