“Did he?”
He tried to ask the umpteenth time.I had found the question sarcastically embarrassing, even though I wanted to be honest with him. Honest with telling him that the few hours I was with him (Micheal) were worth more than all the times I have spent with him (Peters) in this boring cage called marriage. I wanted to tell him how open, liberal, and nonjudgmental he was the whole evening. I wanted to be honest with my husband and confess how the time I had spent with this stranger was short but was worth it, but on second thought, I didn't want to do that.I sighed heavily and started.“You want to know the truth, Peters?”I asked. My face was void of any emotions and expression. He slowly nodded his head in affirmation, the style a man listening to his favorite song would demonstrate.This made him get and stay extra hard by keeping blood flowing into the spongy tissue of his penis.Then I stroked down his length with one hand to make the skin taut and expose more nerve endings, wrapping my other hand around the head of his penis and sliding it up and down.I applied a mouthful of saliva into my palms to make sure I don't chafe his sensitive skin.He let out a soft moan.“You want to torture me, Ju?”His breath was heavy.I loved it.I stopped.Then once again, I took his penis between my open palms and, using my hands like ping-pong paddles, very lightly battered it back and forth.The quick touches had felt so invigorating and increased circulation to the surface of the skin.“Fuckkk, Ju—”His breath was getting weaker.He now held onto my dress.Firmly and tightly.He was writhing
“Drop me the location”“Are you assuring and also promising me that you'd come?”I pleaded with my eyes.He nodded in affirmation; he was now more relaxed, calm, and composed.I'd never thought of how angry he was on realizing that I had lied to him or how disappointing it was to learn that I was married.I wish there was a way I could easily explain to him that whatever I did, I did it out of lust.I did it out of frustration, and it wasn't to have revenge on my husband for sexually starving me or just because I wanted to have a taste of another man's dick.Well, I had gone back to Andrew while being married, so the excuse, whichever way it could be pointed at, was flimsy.Very flimsy and insubstantial.I have been starved of sex by my husband.Quality sex.I have been starved of his attention.Quality attention, both to me and my children.&nbs
“Uhm—Mi—Micheal. I— I”He wouldn't listen to me.He gently pulled me inside and closed the door behind me and the dog.She knows what to do.Then, with his two palms raised to my chin, he started kissing me gently at first and very tentatively, using his tongue while kissing.As he was kissing, he pulled back gently and then kissed my earlobes and my chin, slowly moving his lips down towards my neck.I didn't know how he got to know that my nape and the sides of my neck are extremely sensitive and arousing and, at the same time, ticklish.I wanted him to stop.That wasn't why I was there, but at the same time, I couldn't let him stop.He was all I'd ever want.He was all I'd ever need in a long time.I tried to push him away, but the thought of wanting him to stop was much less than the thought of needing him.I wanted to t
My life was gradually turning into a mess.I couldn't think or concentrate on anything.I was gradually losing my mind, and I couldn't help it.I had nobody to talk to. I had nobody to confide in.Naomi was outside the country, and I wouldn't want to interrupt her honeymoon with some boring cheating tales in my own marriage.I wished I could talk to Peters.At least try to convince him against me inviting Micheals over.I wanted him to see reasons why we, I, needed to move on from whichever ugly situation I had put myself in. I wanted to talk to him, that he could be kind enough to stoop so low and cheat back on me; if getting a pound of his flesh was okay, he could, but then the question I didn't seem to find a response to was “Why he wanted to have a joint meeting with the man I had cheated on him with?”What did he want to say to him?“Hey man, I am the husband of the lady you had made his wife cum multiple times inside your car,” while extending his palms for a handshake. “Oh s
I could feel the roughening of my skin.My hair is standing.The hypothalamus effect was so strong that I equally started feeling a hot type of sensation in my belly.My blood was sizzling.“I have really missed you, baby.”His hand left my waist, switching between the left and the right.The former goes to my face, rubbing and massaging it gently.I wanted to say a word, but it'd come out with a pathetic ineffectiveness, so I decided against it.“I have missed the wife I had married. I swear to you, Judith” he paused.His face met my feet, like he wanted to know what the sole of my footwear was made from.He raised his face to still meet my eyes, staring at his, puzzled and oblivious of what was happening.He wasn't drunk.I knew my husband; even though we've been emotionally and physically detached for a while, I still co
“Did he?”He tried to ask the umpteenth time.I had found the question sarcastically embarrassing, even though I wanted to be honest with him.Honest with telling him that the few hours I was with him (Micheal) were worth more than all the times I have spent with him (Peters) in this boring cage called marriage.I wanted to tell him how open, liberal, and nonjudgmental he was the whole evening.I wanted to be honest with my husband and confess how the time I had spent with this stranger was short but was worth it, but on second thought, I didn't want to do that.I sighed heavily and started.“You want to know the truth, Peters?”I asked.My face was void of any emotions and expression.He slowly nodded his head in affirmation, the style a man listening to his favorite song would demonstrate.