It was December 30th.
Ben and I had driven across the province to stay with his best friend John and John’s wife, Sarah—our usual New Year’s tradition. Every summer they came to us; every winter, we went to them. Our kids were close in age, and for more than a decade, we’d repeated this quiet exchange of holidays and memories.
That night, the toddlers refused sleep. Ben and I took turns in the basement while Sarah and John did the same upstairs. At some point, I must have drifted off beside the bed.
When I woke, the clock read 2:30 a.m. Ben wasn’t there.
I crept into the hallway and up the stairs, careful not to wake anyone. Near the top, I heard John’s voice—lowered, loose.
“I get it. At least you’re lucky. Melanie still puts out, yeah?”
I froze.
“Oh yeah,” Ben said. “Marriage didn’t slow her down.”
I sat on the top step, my back against the wall, listening as something quiet and solid inside me began to crack.
The tales of conquest. Apparently, Sarah had retired for the evening as well, and now the boys thought they had the evening to themselves. I kept my ear near the crack, curious to hear where the conversation was going.
“I don’t know what to do with Sarah sometimes. Like, I get it. It’s tiring to be a mom, but fuck, I just wish we could have sex more than a couple times a month.”
“A month?!” Ben was surprised, as was I.
“Yeah. We’ve gone dry for three weeks before.”
“Dude, that sucks. We… we take care of each other.”
“Like once a week?”
“More like every other day.”
“Lucky bastard.”
I could hear the sound of liquor pouring over ice, the gentle clinking against the glass.
“You’ve always been the lucky one. Who was that wild broad that you brought out here that one time?”
“Don’t go there,” Ben warned with a chuckle.
“Oh come on, wasn’t she crazy in the sack?”
“Mhmmm.”
“I still remember the stories,” John kept on, refusing to let my husband off the hook. “Didn’t you tag her here?”
“Multiple times. She loved being at other people’s houses.”
John kept asking more and more detailed questions, and hearing the enthusiasm build in Ben’s voice made my heart sink.
“It wasn’t just what she did. It was how she did it.” Ben explained between sips. “That’s what I can never forget.”
That was like an icepick to the gut. I stared blankly at the diamond and the band on my hand, as if it meant nothing. Here he was, going over the glory days, talking about a harlot he spent six chaos-fueled months with.
“Alyssa, right?”
“Yeah, Alyssa.”
“Man, she was hot. She had an ass.” I could tell John was in a dry spell, he was full of pent-up frustration.
“It’s a good thing she lived so far away, or by the sounds of it, you would have taken a swing after we broke up.”
“Nah, man. I can’t tangle with a buddy’s ex. Besides, I was already with Sarah. I wouldn’t change that for the world.” John paused, “Do you wish you could go back?”
“Absolutely not.” Ben said, which softened the blow. “Her and I were oil and water- yeah, she was a fun time, but I could never, ever, go back to that. I’d go insane.”
I spent the next half hour perched on the stair, listening as John coaxed more stories out of my husband—each one another fragment of a relationship I’d never known.
Maybe it was some unspoken respect for our marriages that kept them from trading stories about Sarah or me. Or maybe it was simply easier to talk about a past that felt safely distant.
At first, I felt stuck there, pinned by betrayal, jealousy, a dull, simmering anger. But as Ben kept talking, something unexpected shifted.
Even through his softened, liquor-worn recollections, I could hear how clearly he remembered her. Not just what happened, but how it made him feel. He lingered on those moments in a way that made me realize how little he ever lingered now.
I understood then that it wasn’t the stories themselves that hurt most—it was what they revealed. Somewhere along the way, I’d become the steady part of his life. The predictable one. The safe one.
Wife.
The word settled heavily in my chest.
And beneath the hurt, beneath the resentment, there was something else. It was confusing, a stirring that became impossible to ignore.
I should have gone back downstairs. Instead, I stayed where I was, listening, my thoughts rolling around in my head in a way that felt unfamiliar. I felt embarrassed by the fact that I was still listening at all, unable to stop.
Hearing him recount how Alyssa took him was… enticing. I felt like I was listening to erotica, starring my husband. I pictured him in her mouth, his hands around her breasts, him bending her over.
The way he described himself, it was like another person. Someone I didn’t know, or that he hadn’t introduced me to.
I imagined a different man, one who let his primal desires overtake him.
Before I knew it, I sensed the warmth between my legs. My hand slipped beneath my pajamas to test my arousal.
I felt filthy. Teasing myself to depictions of my husband fucking another woman, in a friend’s house, no less.
My fingers traced my folds and toyed with my knot. I struggled to remain quiet, desperate to moan. I wanted to beg for even more detail, or to feel my husband’s body as I touched myself to his image.
My fingers dipped inside. I yearned for more, but this was satisfying a much different craving.
“Dude, that time when we came out here, I almost hit the ditch. She didn’t ask, she just leaned over and gave me road head.”
“Are you serious?! Fuck, I’m on the ‘birthday, father’s day, and Christmas schedule’, let alone on a road-trip.”
“It was one of the best blowjobs of my life.” Ben sighed, almost guiltily at the admission.
I wondered just what Alyssa could have done to make such an impression. Fortunately, the alcohol had removed some of the barriers Ben had put up earlier.
“She pulled at my balls, and she gagged while we were going down the highway. I made to pull over, and she told me she’d stop if I did.”
My God, the words were driving me insane. My mouth watered, picturing Ben’s veiny, thick cock down that whore’s throat.
“What?! Fuck, she was nuts, man.” I could hear the envy in John’s voice.
“Yeah… So I did my best to keep it between the lines, and she worked me like you wouldn’t believe.”
My fingers were working my clit. My core tightened. I was on the brink.
“I couldn’t believe it when I came… she kept on me, and didn’t spill a fucking drop. Then she showed it off before she swallowed.”
My orgasm burst. I wanted to flail, but I would have rolled down those stairs.
I bit my lip so hard I almost broke skin, riding each pleasurable wave as it crashed through my body. I frantically rubbed while my back arched and my toes curled.
After I was finished, I snuck down to the den, where I awaited Ben. Eventually, the stories faded, and he clunkily descended the stairs.
“Oh, Melanie,” he said awkwardly. “I, umm, figured you were asleep.”
I didn’t offer a reply. I just knelt in front of him and undid his jeans.
“Hey…”
His protest was futile. I had his boxers down, and his cock dangling in front of me.
Thanks to the stories, he was already slightly inspired. He smelled musky, the long day of travel combined with a late night. I found it oddly appealing, taking him into my mouth. I cradled his balls as I sucked on his tip.
The whisky did little to stifle his erection. He hardened in my mouth, his salty flesh filling me up.
“Fuuuck…” Ben whispered.
I gave him a tug on his sack, then shoved as much as I could into my mouth. I gagged and sputtered.
Ben was very well equipped. I could never reach his base with my mouth, no matter how hard I tried. My eyes watered from the attempt, but I did not slow. My lips stretched over him, his knob crashing against the roof of my mouth.
That extra length gave plenty of room for my hand to make up the difference. I gripped him tightly as I sucked and licked.
He was so warm. His pre-cum helped slick the back of my throat.
The sounds of my sputtering and gulping stirred the otherwise placid basement. I didn’t care how much noise I made.
Typically, Ben would break free so he could bend me over. I felt his hand on my hair, but I wasn’t letting up.
“Babe?!”
I just got off to hearing about the oral skills of a former lover, I had a point to prove.
I tore open my night-shirt, letting my breasts tumble out. I squeezed one as I licked his shaft, flicking his slit with the tip of my tongue. Then I returned to fucking him with my face.
His breathing became heavy. I used my hand to squeeze and to make a corkscrew motion as I threw my lips down his meaty shaft.
I squeezed his bag toward me, then I took my face away. I aimed his dick at my mouth, holding it open, begging for his finale.
“Cum for me,” I pleaded as I jerked him vigorously.
Did he ever.
His thick, sticky load shot out of him, hitting my tongue. The bitter-tasting reward landed all over my lips, then on my cheek.
“FUCK!” He moaned, watching the white fluid glaze my face.
My grip tightened, both on his balls and on his shaft. I wanted it all.
I knew I had a crazed smile, with his load splashing all over it. Plenty of it landed in my blonde hair, which I failed to tuck back. Luckily, I narrowly avoided my eye.
Once he was reduced to dribbling on my hand, I returned my lips to his cock. I sucked as hard as I could, while my hand squeezed from his base, up to his tip, ringing out every drop.
As soon as I was convinced I had it all, I backed off, wiping all the strays from my cheeks and chin into my mouth. I presented it to him, sticking out my tongue covered with his essence.
Then I swallowed. I gave him a peck on his tip and disappeared to the washroom to clean up.
After I had brushed my teeth and washed my face, I returned to the den to see him sitting on the couch, his pants around his ankles.
Ben was beside himself, caught off guard.
It was late. He was drunk. By the time he reached the guest room, he passed out almost immediately.
I didn’t sleep at all. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen that kind of reaction from him, and the thought made me uncomfortable. I kept thinking about the woman whose name had floated through our history without ever settling.
I opened Facebook before I could stop myself, the blue glow harsh in the dark room. Typing her name felt wrong in a way that made my fingers hesitate over the screen. I told myself I was only curious—that I just wanted to put a shape to the stories I’d overheard—but even that felt like a lie.
Three mutual friends. All Ben’s.
She looked exactly like someone untouched by the life I was living now. Slim, easy in herself, young in a way that wasn’t about age so much as freedom. The jealousy surprised me with its force.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I clicked the message icon.
Hey! We’ve never met…
I stopped. What was I doing? Messaging my husband’s ex felt desperate, invasive… yet the questions were already crowding in. Was it really just what he’d said, or had there been something more?
I exhaled and typed again.
This is going to seem strange, but I’m Ben’s wife, Melanie. I think you two dated a long time ago. Could I ask you a couple of questions?
I hit send before I could reconsider. I set the phone on the nightstand and checked the time.
Nearly four.
The screen had just gone dark when it lit up again.
I heard he got married. It’s been years since we talked. What can I help you with?
The speed of the reply startled me.
Okay, so first, I don’t want to sound like a crazy, possessive wife. I overheard him talking with a friend, reminiscing, and you came up. I’m not angry. I just… I’ve never heard him talk about us that way.
LOL. That was YEARS ago.
Years to her. Just like yesterday to him.
Why did you break up?
I didn’t want marriage or to settle down. He got insecure. We fought. Not badly. Just too many differences.
That matched what Ben had told me. Alyssa had always been a footnote in our history.
Was it as good for you as it was for him?
The typing dots appeared. Disappeared.
Then:
Yes.
I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted a different answer until I didn’t get one.
What made it special?
Another pause. Longer this time.
I don’t really want to do this over text. This feels more like a bottle-of-wine conversation. Are you guys still in Calgary?
I stared at the screen.
Canmore. But it’s easy enough to get there.
You’re welcome to come over to my place when you get back. I’d love to meet you.
Predictable. She didn’t have to ask to know that we had done our annual trip.
I spent our New Year’s wondering what our conversation was going to reveal. I kept creeping on her profile, staring at her pictures. I was tempted to send a friend request, but felt that would be too forward, and that it would set off an alarm bell with Ben.
The rest of the trip wasn’t worth retelling.
We had our champagne and midnight kisses. Ben asked about the night before, as if he had to determine if it was a dream or not. That emboldened me and made me feel like I was taking a step in the right direction.
If he had to question whether it was a lucid fantasy or if he had really cum all over my face, that was a win.
I was hopeful that my trip to Calgary would yield more results like that. I wanted Ben to close his eyes and see me, not just as a loving wife, but a symbol of raw desire.
When we returned from John’s, I was determined to go to Alyssa. I picked an evening where John was busy, and the kids could stay with family. I wanted zero distractions.
Luckily, Alyssa was easy to coordinate with.
White, red or rosé?
Yes. Lol.
Armed with three bottles of wine, I made the trek to her condo. I booked a room nearby, knowing that it wouldn’t be wise to try to drive home afterwards.
Alyssa had done well for herself. Her upscale apartment made that clear.
I stared at the dial button for her room. A part of me wanted to turn around, to leave with my tail between my legs.
But then I pictured Ben’s face, that look he gave me when I refused to let off. That stunned amazement. I wanted him to look at me every time we were in bed like that. I wanted to replace each of his memories with Alyssa with ones of us.
I pushed the intimidating red button. The door buzzed, letting me in.
I made my way to the top floor, where she resided. My hand shook as I gently knocked on the door, to see it immediately open.
“Hey! Alyssa,” she said bubbly, reaching out her hand. She had these fine, dainty fingers, with subtle, natural coloured nails. “I’m so glad you came!”
She then looked down at my hands, seeing me awkwardly hold three bottles.
“Jesus, I thought you’d pick one, not all three!”
“I, uh—I like to come prepared,” I said with a smile. “Melanie. Nice to meet you.”
Alyssa took two of the bottles and pointed me toward a hook by the door. On her stone island, two wine glasses and a charcuterie board were already laid out.
“I’m in love with this place,” I said. I wasn’t sure if it was the sleek design or the absence of children’s clutter that made me envious.
“I’ve been here a few years,” she said, pulling the cork. “It helps not having a man around, as far as mess goes.”
She poured merlot and handed me a glass. Confident. Polished. Executive, almost.
“So, can I ask how Ben is doing these days? By the looks of things, he got everything he wanted in life.”
“I’m not so sure about that… but he is doing well. He’s moved up at his firm, we own a home in Canmore…”
“He always loved the mountains. I just can’t stand the people that tend to live there.”
I chuckled, realizing that was probably who I had become.
“And what about you?” I asked. “No man, no problems?”
Alyssa smiled, then tipped back her glass.
“I’m good. I tend to like things my way.”
The line from that night echoed. It isn’t what she did, it was how she did it.
The small talk continued over that bottle of wine. We learned where we each grew up, how we had met Ben, and how our paths were vastly different.
I was relieved that the very few details Ben had offered me of her matched what she was recounting. She seemed somewhat guarded, as if she was waiting for me to ask the first uncomfortable question.
“So listen,” I said finally, my fingers tightening around the stem. “I don’t really know how to say this.”
“Whatever it is,” she said, touching my hand, “it stays between us.”
I reached for the bottle and poured myself more wine before I could lose my nerve.
“The other night, I overheard a conversation. Ben thought I was in bed, and he and John were going through the glory days.”
“Oh John,” Alyssa shook her head. “I only met him the one time. He was a decent enough guy, but… yeah.”
“Well, he was practically begging Ben to hear sex stories. He brought up you.”
“I never did anything with John…”
Alyssa’s defense was abrupt.
“No, not like that,” I said, planting my face into my hands. “He asked about ‘Ben’s wild times’ with you.”
“Oh. Listen, Melanie,” Alyssa spoke softly, her hand touched mine. “I’m so sorry…”
“Like I messaged you, I wasn’t upset. I listened in to the whole thing.”
Alyssa’s eyes lit with curiosity.
“I heard about a time on the road-trip that you…”
A friendly smack came across my arm.
“Oh my God!” Alyssa giggled. “He hasn’t let that go?!”
“Apparently not,” I stated.
“Well, I guess it was the first time he had done that with a girl.”
“It was his first blow-job? Or first time on the road?” I was confused. I was sure that he was slightly more experienced in his early-twenties than that.
“Oh, I thought you were talking about something else,” Alyssa said sheepishly, rimming her glass with a finger. She reached for the next bottle, twisting its cap, and pouring a heavy amount.
“Well, now it’s your turn to share.”
Alyssa had gone from defensive to cheery, and now to reserved all in the matter of seconds.
“It was his first time that we…” She exhaled. “That we went back door.”
I was flabbergasted. We’d been married a decade, and not once… EVER… had he brought up anal.
“I’m sorry, I just, he’s never…” my words circled each other.
“He’s never asked?”
I shook my head, defeated. Was it that he didn’t think I had that side in me, or was it that he had lost that side of himself?
“I was the one who suggested it, at the time.”
I pressed more questions, about where, how, and when it came about. I sounded almost obsessive.
With each inquiry, Alyssa became more comfortable sharing details. Each sentence became more explicit.
I refilled my glass and nudged the bottle toward her, offering her the same relief I was needing.
The alcohol was warming my cheeks. I knew I had slightly overdone it with the last glass.
I found myself picturing the gorgeous figure in front of me, bent crudely over an open car door on a gravel grid road.
Then it was the image of Ben, with his pants down, his hand steadying his meaty cock that overwhelmed me.
Alyssa could sense the tension, and tried to pivot back to my purpose.
“So, after you overheard Ben and John… what did you do?”
“I, I messaged you.”
“You didn’t call him out on it or anything?” She raised a brow. “That seems really disrespectful to you.”
I looked at Alyssa’s lips. They were softly glossed, moist from the wine.
“Actually, I… I blew him the moment he got down the stairs.”
Alyssa’s mouth hung open in disbelief.
“You naughty girl,” she said, half-laughing. “That’s actually kind of hot.”
“What do you mean?”
“The fact that instead of turning into a jealous wife, you took matters into your own hands. I like that,” Alyssa replied. “It’s admirable that you’re even here to talk about it.”
My confession was chipping at me. I had only told half the story.
“The truth is,” I said quietly, “I got off while I was listening.”
Alyssa looked fascinated.
“Was it thinking about you two that did it?”
I paused, gathering myself. I wanted to be honest.
“No, I pictured you two,” I looked at her again. “Or what I thought you looked like.”
Taking in the information, Alyssa returned to her glass. She took the liberty of refilling both hers and mine.
The room fell silent.
Alyssa didn’t look shocked. She didn’t laugh it off either. She studied me, head tilted slightly, like she was seeing me for the first time.
“You know,” she said slowly, “most women would’ve been furious.”
“I know.”
“But you weren’t.” Alyssa had caught me looking at her several times.
I shook my head. “I was curious.”
That made her smile.
We sat like that for a moment, knees angled toward each other, glasses forgotten. I became aware of how close she was, how easily I could read her expression.
For the first time that night, Ben wasn’t between us at all.
I shifted closer.
Alyssa didn’t move away. Her voice dropped when she spoke.
“Ben didn’t tell you everything about me,” she said.
She leaned in, close enough that I felt her warm breath against my ear.
I turned toward her without thinking.
Our mouths met—brief, uncertain, and then not at all.
We were at an impasse. Each of us was waiting for the other to do something, anything.
This was my chance to find out how she did it.
I reached for her hair, letting my fingers slip through it, and she answered me immediately. Her lips pressed firmly against mine.
Alyssa rose from the stool and framed my face in her hands. She tasted sweet, wine and something floral, familiar and unfamiliar all at once.
I heard myself make a sound, a soft whimper, and that was when I stopped.
I pulled back, composing myself.
“Alyssa, I,”
“No,” she said gently, smoothing her hair. “That’s on me.”
She hesitated, then met my eyes. “Ben knew I liked women. Maybe more than men.”
The more she revealed, the more intrigued I became. I’d always noticed women—admired them—but until I found myself wanting this, I’d never allowed the thought to settle.
“That was the first time, for me,” I said. I couldn’t hide the want in my voice.
“And?”
“I want more,” I admitted. “Badly.”
Alyssa traced my cheek with her fingertips. She didn’t lean in for more. Instead, she stepped into her bedroom and left the door ajar.
The choice was mine.
I’d never felt a pull like that before. I knew what I was risking—that I was being selfish—but one foot led the other.
As I stepped into the room, Alyssa sat on the edge of the bed with her back to me. Light spilled in through the open blinds, my shadow stretching along the wall behind her.
She rose without turning, and began to undress. My presence was answer enough.
Alyssa’s clothes fell away, her silhouette growing more defined with each movement. The city lights painted her in shifting colour. I shut the door to watch the gold and blue become defined.
My body had been pleading with me since the moment she started talking about my husband’s past. The feeling swelled, impossible to ignore.
I wanted to tear off my clothes, to join her, but I was enamored watching her.
Her silence fueled the tension. She stepped toward me, letting me see her, all of her, basking in the dim light.
She was gorgeous.
Her body swayed, her eyes locked on mine.
My clothes slowly joined hers on the floor. Each button unclasped, each piece guided away from my body, softly being set down beside me.
Her fingers traced me, exploring in the quiet light. Then her lips followed, brushing against me with the same care.
It was devotion.
It was worship.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel self-conscious about my body. Every curve, every mark, felt celebrated.
I stood exposed and confident, letting this woman, a stranger and yet somehow familiar, guide the moment.
And then her mouth wandered lower.
I could have collapsed the moment her kiss met my thigh. She placed her hands, gently guiding me to the bed.
Her tongue parted me, teasing my folds.
“Oh, Alyssa,” I moaned.
Her response was to gently flick at my clit with her tongue. The abruptness sent a shiver down my spine.
Her tongue swept over me, her hands gripped my thighs, keeping me spread open. She was careful to only use the tip of her tongue, hovering over my flesh with her lips. She was driving me wild, all I wanted was for her to embrace me with her mouth again.
She crawled over my body to kiss me. Her lips were slick with my juices. I welcomed the flavour.
We tangled together. Her slender body wrapped itself into mine. Everything about her felt soft and warm, unlike the hardness of a man.
Alyssa knew how to manoeuvre a woman. My hands reached out for her clunkily, trying to touch and squeeze, while she just knew what to do.
My arms were pinned, she nibbled at my neck. Our warm bodies were locked.
“God,” I whispered, gasping euphorically.
I surrendered myself to her, letting her take me.
Alyssa sensed that shift. She guided me between her legs. I eagerly greeted her with a kiss, then tried to imitate the motions that made me quake.
Her hands directed me, showing where she wanted me to focus. My tongue swept around her tender pussy, then lapped up her hood. I could hear my lips smack against her folds.
She was as wet as I was. I welcomed her sweet, salty taste all over my lips.
My fingers wouldn’t sit idly by. They began massaging her, then one ventured inside.
I was well versed with myself, but she felt completely foreign to me. I had to remind myself to focus on her pleasure, not on my own curiosity.
She was impossibly tight, I felt every clench on my finger as I explored. She pushed herself into my face, and rocked gently onto my fingers.
All I wanted to do was to please her, to make her cum. I began to apply more pressure, not only with my tongue, but with my hand. She moaned as I sucked her clit, and slipped a second one inside.
I felt her hands on the back of my head, grinding my face into her.
“Keep…doing…exactly….”
Alyssa was close. Her breaths were shaking, her voice was breaking.
I didn’t listen well. Instead of continuing the rhythm, I sped my motions. My lips were numb from sucking her, my tongue was frantically flicking away.
Her legs wrapped around me, her back arched. She was cumming.
“FUCK!” She shrieked, gripping madly at the sheets, trying to brace herself as her body shook. I was whipping my head back and forth, doing whatever I could muster.
She was clamped so tightly on my fingers I could barely move them. I curled them into her, attempting to keep the pressure on her.
Her inaudible growls and grunts echoed into her otherwise peaceful room. I’m sure her neighbour’s pictures trembled on the walls below with how she cried out.
The tension in her legs dissipated and she sunk into the bed. I withdrew my fingers, and gave her a gentle kiss on her knot. The touch made her tremble again. She tucked her fingers under my chin, summoning me on top of her.
“I cannot believe that was your first time,” she whispered.
“I’m… I’m glad you liked it,” I replied.
She leaned forward and kissed me. We were covered in each other, and that made it even more erotic. I squeezed Alyssa’s perky breast while her hands groped my ass. It was heaven.
“Now, it’s your turn,” she said, retreating from our kiss. She bit my lip, rolled over on top, then slipped off the bed. My legs rubbed together, anticipating her to devour, or finger me, or do whatever the fuck she wanted.
Alyssa walked to the edge of her room and opened her closet, which had a full-length mirror as a door. She left it open so that it pointed directly at the bed.
I admired myself. It reminded me of an erotic painting, with a nude woman basking on the sheets. I ran my fingers along my body, watching my reflection, waiting for Alyssa to finish rummaging in the closet.
When she returned into my sight, I skipped a breath.
She was adorned with a nude coloured set of boxers, and attached to them was a long, slender, feminine cock.
The boxers clung to her- in the dim light, I had to stare to see the seam. The toy was curved slightly, with a smooth shape and a gentle bulb on the end.
Alyssa stroked herself as she walked toward me. She carried a bottle of lube and a towel in her other hand.
She crawled on top of me, and steadied herself between my legs.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said while she teased my folds with the tip of the toy. My legs fell open as wide as they could. I closed my eyes while I waited.
Her hand brushed against my cheek, her fingers ran through my hair. My body was tingling in anticipation.
Alyssa thrust into me. The cool, silicon toy filled me, and Alyssa met me with a kiss. She showered me with affection, kissing my lips, my face, my neck.
Her motions were unique. She used her hips to manoeuvre the toy. She wasn’t slamming into me, she was exploring my depths.
I moaned. I looked over and saw our reflection. I wished I had a camera, so I could capture that moment forever. Her hands scaling my breasts, her lips on my collarbone, and her ass bobbing in the air.
I whimpered as she fucked me. She was deliberate, yet tender. Her toy may not have been thick, but it was long, and she knew how to use it.
Alyssa caught me looking at the mirror, meeting my gaze in the glass. She formed an inspired grin.
She pulled back, then positioned me on my knees, facing the closet. I dutifully went on all fours, but she pulled my torso upward.
“I want to watch, and I want to see all of you,” Alyssa bit my earlobe, then began cupping my breasts.
I saw the toy dangle between our legs, and I guided it to my opening. Alyssa thrust into me, and I watched her cock disappear inside me.
I’ve rarely came from penetration, but that wouldn’t be an issue. There was too much lust, too much excitement to hold me back. Alyssa and I kept our eyes on the mirror, lost in the performance.
She squeezed my tits tightly, her fingertips teasing my nipples. She kissed my neck and my ear while her body moved into me.
“Are you close?” Her tongue swept in my ear.
“So, so close…,”
She pulled away, her toy slipping out of me. I was confused, she had me on the brink. I looked over my shoulder, and noticed her opening the cap on the bottle of lube.
There was no need for the lube- I was more than wet enough for her to finish. I heard her squeeze a generous amount and lather the toy. Then, I felt her fingertip against my ass.
I now know what my shocked face looks like. I was peering into the mirror when I felt her touch. My mouth gaped, my jaw hung.
“Alyssa, I… I… I don’t…,”
“It’s alright. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” She assured me, kissing my neck again.
I was speechless. I thought about the conversation from earlier, which may have influenced her tonight.
I had never been taken anything, not a dick, not a plug, not even a finger. Ben was my first real relationship. Maybe that was why he never asked me? Did he only ever associate it with Alyssa?
My mind raced, but not with fear, but with intrigue. I pictured that thick cock of his tunneling into me, and into Alyssa, and I couldn’t help myself.
I grabbed the toy and positioned it, this time, against my rim. I nodded to Alyssa, who was watching my reflection.
She smiled, gripping my hips. “It’s best if you push into me the first time.”
Her voice was seductive. I tried to relax and ease myself into the toy. The position was a bit awkward, but I felt the knob stretch me open. I lowered myself more, forcing the widest part inside.
“Are you OK?”
“Yes…,” I said under my breath. I was bracing myself, but it felt surprisingly good. I kept going, and then the tip was pulled into me, and my hole clenched around the shaft.
I squealed, reeling from the quick change.
“Fuck! Sorry!” I shook my head, trying not to sound as silly as the shriek bark did.
“You’re fine, relax,” Alyssa assured me. She rubbed my body, her hands trying to calm me. “I’m going to take it from here, yeah?”
I nodded.
Alyssa fondled my breasts as she pushed deeper into me. It was radically different- I could feel my pulse on that toy. It was like every nerve I had was connected to there, of all places!
I fought back the urge to stop. There was pain, but it was masked with pleasure and excitement. Alyssa had been inching into me slowly, and the urge to get it all consumed me.
I reached back and pulled her close. I felt the full length of her cock.
“Oh, fuck! Fuck me!” I cried out. I clenched my eyes shut, the sensory overdrive being too much. I fell forward, my head burying into the sheets. My hands clutched the edge of her mattress.
Alyssa didn’t hold back. She took my hips and rammed into me with all her might.
I looked up to see her flailing into me. Her hair was moving wildly, her breasts bouncing in rhythm. And that’s when it hit me.
My husband’s ex is fucking me.
I felt like a whore, but that was better than feeling like a wife.
“YES!” I shrieked. My ass was taking a pounding. The longer it lasted, the better it felt.
Alyssa reached for my hair, pulling me back upright. I turned my head to meet her, so she could kiss me while she fucked me. Our tongues met before our lips, and then I felt her fingers reach around and find my pussy.
She rubbed my clit, summoning everything from me. She was forceful, sweeping back and forth.
“You’re going to make me cum!” I moaned.
Alyssa broke away from our kiss so she could focus on me. One hand gripped my hip, the other worked away on me. Her thrusts were shallow, but firm, sending that cock deep into my tight, tender hole.
There was a new pressure, one that stemmed from deep within my core. I knew I was about to climax, but this was different. My pussy ached, begging to be filled. I gave in, slipping two fingers inside while Alyssa kept working from above.
The toy’s knob pressed my fingers against my insides, and the pleasure was instant. The ache transformed into an intense bubble, about to be burst. I couldn’t think of anything but that sensation, that internal itch.
I stared forward, and the sight was enough to set me off.
“FUUUUUCK!” I wailed. I howled. I couldn’t control myself.
It wasn’t just my voice that I lost my authority on. As my orgasm took over, I felt a warm fluid erupt out of me.
“Melanie!” Alyssa called out, her eyes wide. Her mouth gaped in excitement as she watched me squirt all over her mattress.
It was too much for me to handle, my fingers fell out of me, and I leaned back into Alyssa. The pressure that had built relieved, but the pleasure continued.
Her hands worked in a fervour, attempting to get every ounce of satisfaction out of me. It made an erotic mess, covering her sheets. The towel that had been placed below was all but useless. With her hand whipping against me, it sent the liquid everywhere.
As quickly as it happened, it stopped. I rolled off of my partner, her toy exiting my body. The change gave me a final tremour as it left.
I was helpless to the aftershocks. Waves moved from my core, reverberating to my extremities. I had heard lore about these kinds of out-of-body orgasms, but never thought I’d experience one.
I was exhausted. That final act had taken a toll on me. I turned to Alyssa, who had slipped her boxers off, and had the toy wrapped in a towel. Setting it beside her bed, she nestled up to me.
Words weren’t needed. Her arms wrapped around me. We curled up on the only portion of her bed that wasn’t drenched.
She was warm, which I needed, because the chill without covers was setting in. I had been riddled with pins and needles all night, and now goosebumps speckled my body. Maybe it was the temperature, or maybe it was the flood of pleasure that I had just endured.
Alyssa played with my hair, then pecked my shoulders. I was lost in bliss.
It was never my intention to cheat. I didn’t venture here to sleep with a woman. I wanted to learn from her, to see how she was able to leave such an impression on Ben, and now I found out first-hand.
It wasn’t just what she did, it was how she did it.
If I had my bearings, I would have been thinking about what I was going to tell my husband. The only thoughts about my husband were surrounded by fantasy, about potential for our future.
I rolled over, facing Alyssa. The night didn’t have to end, just yet.
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