When she reached for it I reached for it, our minds in perfect sync as we both fumbled with the belt and zipper in a desperate and frantic need to unleash him on ourselves.

I didn’t give a damn about who I was. I didn’t care whether I was male or female or husband or wife. I didn’t care that she was cheating and that I was witnessing it and any sense that this was in any way wrong was the last damn thing on my mind.

Literally the only thing I gave a damn about was my own pleasure. It was taking and embracing it. Feeling it inside of me and on me.

I craved it, craved his touch and everything it meant for me. I craved the way that he looked at me, the way that he made me feel sexy even if it wasn’t me that he was seeing.

It’s so difficult to describe how overwhelming it was. It wasn’t like I was drunk or drugged, my mind was fully clear. I was fully and completely able to process this and make the choice and in that moment and in that choice I wanted to be her. Not to be with her but to be her.

To feel as she felt. To live as she did.

So to hell with outdated sensibilities about sexuality and gender. To hell with our vows and our marriage. To hell with anything but the here and now and the pleasure that it offered to me.

That was what I desired.

Taking him past my lips was a revelation, at once familiar and all new. He tasted salty and he tasted exciting. He tasted like a man should, musky with an earthy edge to it.

And the scent and taste of him numbed my senses only briefly, giving me enough time to focus on the feel of him on my lips and on my tongue.

He was hard and soft all at the same time, warm and pulsing with desire for me. I ducked forward to take him to his root, to feel his thick and throbbing head tickle the back of my throat and then slip past it as I took him as deep as I possibly could.

My eyes searched upwards for his face, slipping past his hard and chiseled body that was revealed when he stripped out of his shirt. Up to his face that was staring down at me with lust and desire and need.

What they had was not love, it wasn’t based in it and it didn’t have a part of them. It was animal lust pure and simple. A primal need for two young and fit and attractive people to fuck and work out their sexual need on each other, to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh as only they could.

I knew that he wouldn’t replace me because he couldn’t replace me. I represented something different to her but at the same time, he represented something different as well. He represented a need that I couldn’t fill, that I would never be able to fill. A need that I could feel bubbling in me.

Her hands came up to meet her mouth, chasing her lips up and down his shaft as she bobbed on it. She rolled her tongue back and forth in that way that I love and crave, squeezing his shaft and balls as she did so and spurring him on, making him grip her hair and pull her back and lift her to her feet.

He held her hard and rough and controlling, spinning her around away from him and facing her towards a mirror he roughly tugged her robe apart and then slipped it off her shoulders.

Bending her forward over the bed I felt his hands on my ass and then felt him slipping my panties to one side. I moaned and she moaned as his cock pressed against my opening, and I knew that he could feel how wet and ready I was for him.