I came home from the bar and went into my darkened bedroom and gave myself to the man lying there. I had no idea until it was too late that the man was not my husband.
I married young without much of a thought to how different we were. I liked going out and he liked to stay in, and I never thought it would be a problem.
Tonight was amazing, putting myself out there and getting attention. Even though I’m the only married one out of all my friends, all eyes were on me and that made me feel fantastic.
I don’t know that my husband wants me anymore. He’s just stopped trying, seems quiet and content with things continuing their downward trend.
But tonight in the darkness he’s different. He seems almost like a new man.
Touching and feeling. Exploring and pushing the limits. He’s on me and he wants me and I want him.
Only when it’s too late do I realize the truth. It’s not my husband beneath me and with me between these sheets. He’s not making me feel like this, he never could.
And this, being with someone else, is what I’ve always wanted. When I was with him I was begging for it to be someone else. When I came to him this night, I knew exactly what I was doing.
Excerpt
“Whoa there cowboy,” I told him, the quiet of the night surrounding us, “I told you I was married.”
“We just had a good night,” he said with a wicked grin, “Figured that you might not want it to end.”
He leaned in closer and I could feel him against me. My hands moved up to his face and his grip tightened on me possessively.
I could see my future laid out in front of me. The two of us tumbling into the back of the cab and him barking his address at the driver while he pulled me against him.
Hands running over my body and between my legs. His lips on my neck and traveling downward as he gripped me and pulled me onto his lap.
I would straddle him and grind him just like in the club but this time his hands would be on my ass and we would be face to face and I would melt into him. Kissing him with need as his tongue pushed into my mouth and claimed me.
We would move around the cab and he’d get his hands under my clothes. I’d be a rush of feelings and knowing that it was wrong but knowing that I needed it all the same and then the cab would pull up outside of his apartment and he’d pull me out of it disheveled, my pants undone but still hugging my hips and half the buttons on his shirt gone.
And we’d end up in his apartment eventually but we’d stop a half dozen times along the way. We’d take the stairs because we didn’t want to be interrupted and I’d have his pants off by stop three and have his cock in my mouth.
He’d pin me against the cold cement walls, his hands holding my head still as his grunts echoed through the space. He’d fuck my face, again and again, making my makeup run and making my breath come in heaving gasps before he’d pull me up to my feet and drag me the rest of the way.
But once we were past the door of his apartment he wouldn’t be able to hold back anymore. He’d literally tear the clothing from my body and he’d have me again and again.
Touching and licking me, making me squeal as his firm body held me down. Flipping me onto my front and fucking me up against the wall, rutting into me and grunting with each stroke of his cock filling my tight little pussy.
Making me ride him and making me confess everything to him.
That I’d wanted this for years. That I was a cheating slut. That I wasn’t going to tell my husband anything but a weak excuse for where I’d spent the night.
And that I needed him to use me, that I got off on him taking his pleasure and leaving me gasping. That I liked it hard and rough and that I could only be satisfied when he choked me and spanked me.
I’d tell him my husband didn’t satisfy me like he could and it would be the truth. I’d tell him my husband was weak and tiny in comparison to him and it would be the truth. I’d tell him that I would be back the next night, and goddammit it would be the truth.
Because all of this was a waiting flood and my resolve was a weak damn. All it would take was one crack, one movement over my lines to make me lose all control.
Because this fantasy didn’t just belong to Michael. Because in the years since I’d found out that he had it I had adopted it as my own.