Dirty Heat (25 page)

I let out a loud grunt and shoot my load, pumping my hips and flooding her mouth, with the soft whimpering of my anonymous whore floating in my ears.

B
old and brazen, my slick lips spread and my wet pussy stretches over the extra-thick width of Charles' seven-inch dick. It's late. Well after eight in the evening. And here I am hoisted up on my desk. Legs spread wide. Head tossed back. Nipples puckered tight. Getting fucked down.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I mewl, digging my nails into his ass, pulling him in deeper. “Fuck me, baby! I love it when you fuck me! Mmm, yes. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me goooooood. Oooh, yes…”

Charles fucks me like I stole something from him, sawing into my pussy with rapid speed. “Yeah. Fuck. Give me that sweet-ass pussy, baby. I love fucking this dick into you.” Charles holds my legs up over my head, holding the heels of my shoes like they're handlebars, and he's riding his coveted Hubless Harley—the one I've ridden on the back of, twice so far. “Muthafuckin' good-ass pussy.”

“Mmmm…mmmm…yes…”

He moans. I moan. We moan together.

And then…and then…ohgodohgod, he wraps my left leg around his waist, keeping my right leg up, and begins plunging into me. He slams in hard and deep and fast. My body shakes as I absorb his thrusts. I feel my face flush. I bite down on my lip, feeling heat swell inside of me. Charles finds my spot and rapidly strokes into it.

“Fuck. Shit. You're so fucking wet for me,” he murmurs. “You always are.”

I look him in his eyes, getting lost in his gaze, in his every stroke. “Yes. Ah, God, yes. You do this to me.”

Pleasure grips and tightens around me.

“You love this dick?”

“Yes, yes…oooh…uhh…”

“You want me to keep fucking this pussy…?”

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Twisting his thick fingers through my hair, Charles tugs, then bends and covers my mouth with his, filling my mouth with his heated tongue.

God his dick feels so good inside me! It's like a chocolate-dipped, king-sized Snickers bar. And the more he fucks into my pussy, the more I want it. The more I crave it—his thick chocolate, his creamy nut.

Charles and I have been screwing each other for the last eight months. It isn't something either of us planned. It just happened. Okay, okay…I know affairs don't just happen. They manifest themselves out of insecurity. Out of some sense of twisted need for validation outside of home, outside of a relationship.

This, this…thing with Charles quickly progressed to him sliding his dick into me once to him sliding it into me once a week to three times a week to this…him fucking me every chance we get, sometimes twice in the same day—once during our lunch hour at some local motel, then later in the evening here at the office when everyone else has long gone.

We fuck and fuck and fuck.

And then…

I wobble home. Back to my boring life, my walls still throbbing, pussy fucked out the box.

“Whose pussy is this, huh?” Charles leans in, and bites my right nipple over the flimsy fabric of my blouse.

I shriek in ecstasy. Tell him shit I'm not sure is true. “Yours. Oh, dear God, yes. It's all yours, baby. Mmm.” But in the heat of the moment it feels right. It feels…uh…it feels…mmmm…oooh…it feels like the closest thing to whatever truths I conjure up in my mind, contradictions and all.

That this thing between us—these fuck sessions, the late-night texts, the naughty IMs and email exchanges, the backseat romps—can all stop…if, if, oooh, if…I wanted them to. That this married, wet, horny, throbbing pussy belongs to this married fat, juicy dick-having man even when I know it shouldn't.

Yes, I'm married.

He's married.

And we're having a dirty office romance. And, yes, sometimes there's a glimmer of regret every time I step through the door of my gated home and have to look into my husband Craig's eyes. But it's always quickly replaced with justifications as to why I cheated on him in the first place. He doesn't turn me on, anymore. He's boring. He lost his drive. He never wants to do anything. Never wants to try new things. He's always complaining.

And the sex…

“Oh God!” I squeal, feeling my juices squish and slosh out of me as Charles' dick glides in and out of my weeping cunt, slick and cum-coated. The muffled thumping of his muscled thighs hitting up against the back of my toned legs and the clickety-click-click of my wet pussy is a sensual melody to my ears as he power-fucks his way in and out of my heated center.

Charles licks and nibbles the back of my right calf, then my left, as he fucks me on my desk. I turn my head, and catch a glimpse of the back of the crystal picture frame holding the photo of Craig and me. A photo we'd taken our last night in Hawaii, several months prior to my, mmm…oooh…God, yes…my, my, indiscretions.

It had been an unexpected trip. One I wanted no part of. Being an IT manager, Craig's company had decided to send him to a three-day conference. He saw it as a second chance. I saw it as an inconvenience. He said it'd be a chance for us to rekindle sparks that had long fizzled in our marriage.

But, for me, paradise was for lovers. Something Craig and I were not. Not anymore, that is. We were simply a boring married couple living a boring married life having boring occasional sex—in my opinion, of course. We were stuck in a rut, getting along, and moving along. And I did what I had to do to keep peace in our home, and in our marriage—for the sake of the kids.

Of course, Craig hadn't gotten the memo—that I was bored with him, that I was unhappy with him—since I'd never shared my sentiments with him. Well, not to that degree. As far as he was concerned, there was still hope for us. Unfortunately, I didn't share his enthusiasm.

Still, after several days of me making excuses as to why I couldn't go—and, then, several more days of being browbeaten by Craig about why I needed to go. About him needing to spend quality time with me, his wife—I reluctantly caved in, and agreed to go.

Surprisingly, once I allowed myself to relax and live in the moment, the trip turned out to be a lot of fun. And I came back feeling refreshed and with a half-hearted commitment to try to give my marriage another shot. If for nothing else, then for the children, especially since we both believed they deserved a home with both parents in their lives.

The trip hadn't changed my feelings toward Craig. If anything, it made it painfully clearer that I'd outgrown him, us. But I'd stay with him. And suffer in silence. Well, at least until the kids turned eighteen.

But…

Then this happens. My torrid affair with a man I can't seem to get enough of. The man I'm willing to risk dangling over the edge for. Charles. Ohgod! He's everything Craig is not. Charles is driven. Spontaneous. Open-minded. Inhibited. Daring. Adventurous. And unpredictable.

And the sex…oooh, yes…the sex is everything. Charles gives me life. He has me doing things I've never even done with my husband. And he makes it easier for me to endure going home, knowing that he'll be here with dick in hand, waiting to fuck me back to life.

I blink away any convoluted thoughts of Craig, and with a swipe of my hand, I knock the picture frame over as Charles changes his strokes. Slow, deep…fast, shallow…deep, deep, deeper, faster, faster…slower, slower, shallow, deep…deeper, faster…

“Ooh, oooh, oooh, aaaah…yes, yes, yes.”

I wish I could say horrible things about Craig. God knows I do. But I can't. He's a good man, and a great father to our daughters. But I don't feel the same kind of love for him I once did. I care for him, deeply. But I've fallen out of love with him. There was a time when he was a great lover, too. Sex with Craig was everything, in the beginning. There was a time when all he had to do was look at me, or walk into the room, and I'd instantly become wet with desire.

But then…I don't know, after the twins were born, something changed. Gradually, I changed. I wanted more, sexually. Wanted to experience new things, sexually. Wanted to explore…sexuality, mine.

I married Craig not because of the size of his dick, but because of the size of his heart. I knew he'd make a good husband and great father. But there was never any open conversation about my changes, about what I now needed, wanted, without fear of feelings
getting in the way. So I simply pushed on, ignored what I wanted, and pretended. I'm still pretending. And it's killing me.

Now when he touches me, I cringe inside. Not because he repulses me, but because I am disgusted with myself for not telling him this, for not wanting to let him go. Craig deserves better than what I can give him. He deserves to be loved in the same way he loves me. He deserves to be desired in the same way that he desires me. I know I should tell him this. But I can't hurt him. Taking our children from him would devastate him.

Still, even if I wanted to, I am not prepared to leave Craig. We've built a life together. A good one. One I am not ready to let give up. One I know he isn't willing to let go of, either. Besides, he doesn't deserve to be hurt. And I know that I can never be with Charles. He's not leaving his wife and three children for me. And I don't expect him to.

So…oooh…mmm…so…

I stay with what's comfortable and consistent—no matter how boring, no matter how unhappy I am in it because, regardless of my situation, it is in these moments when I am with Charles being fucked that I am my happiest. Primal need runs hot in my blood, like lava.

Boiling.

Roiling.

Coiling.

Oozing out of every pore in my body.

I am a woman on fire when I am with him; a wet inferno of desire, of hungry need. Slick heat boiling over into an endless stream of arousal. That's what I am. The flames rise at the base of my spine, higher and higher, until they are spreading through me, completely engulfing me.

“Yes, that's it!” I cry out. “Fuck me like I'm your dirty little office whore!”

“Yeah, that's right. Fucking grimy-ass whore!” He slams his dick in. “Goddamn slut!” He pulls his dick out. “Wet-ass pussy!” He slams back inside of me. “Sneaky, cheating-ass ho!”

“Yes, motherfucker, yes! Cheating-ass bastard! Fuck me like you hate me!”

Charles grasps my hips and pushes his dick in deeply. I wrap my legs around his waist and groan, tightening around him, giving him unfettered access to me. My pussy happily, greedily, welcomes each hungry thrust. My walls, the mouth of my cervix greets his thick cock with want and need. Each stroke brushes up against my clit, causing sparks of heated desire to pulse through my entire body.

“That's it, baby…open up for me…give me all of that wet pussy.”

“Ooooh…aaah…uhhh…”

Charles fucks me like he loves me. Then fucks me like he hates me. Rough and dirty. He fucks me like he needs me. He fucks me like I am the best piece of ass his dick will ever feel. And it's always stress-free.

“You like this dick?”

“Yes. I love it!”

“Yeah, I know you do,” he mutters against my lips before slipping his tongue into my mouth, taking every part of who I am with the stroke of his dick and the sweeping sensation of his tongue as it swirls around mine.

I am completely, utterly, turned upside down, inside out. He has me dangling on the edge of the sweetest, most powerful orgasm ever.

Liquid fire dances through my blood. I am overheating with lust.

Mewling, I feel myself swell and tighten. My fingernails claw at the top of my desk, before finding their way into the meaty humps of his muscular ass. I dig in as he fucks himself into the fire, pounding into a sea of wetness.

“Aaah, fuck,” he groans against my mouth. He sucks my bottom
lip into his mouth, then bites into its plump skin, causing my cunt to vibrate.

I moan, loudly.

Charles changes his rhythm, moving in and out of me, slow-fucking into overwhelming need, stroking, stroking, stroking.…

With a cry, I pump my pelvis to greet his thrust. He thumps my pussy until my breath catches. He slow-fucks me until my breathing turns ragged, until I feel myself unraveling.

Gasping his name, I shut my eyes tight against the sudden surge of heat radiating through the center of my pussy. He kisses me again. Harder. Hot. Until I am breathing his air and he is breathing mine. I try to remember when kissing started between us. Try to remember when kissing him felt so…so…natural.

Or had it always felt right?

I cannot recall. And, at this moment, it doesn't matter.

None of this makes any sense. All it was ever supposed to be was a one-time fuck between us. Not this. Not us plotting and planning and waiting for the next time we can wear the other out.

Not us scheduling weekend getaways under the guise of being work-related conferences. None of this was supposed to happen.

But this is what it's evolved to, the both of us lying and scheming. I'm not sure what wicked tales he goes home and tells his wife, Melody, of fifteen years. But I have become a masterful storyteller. I have become a master of deceit. All in the name of good hard dick, I have become an adulteress.

And, now, there is no turning back, even if I wanted to.

I am on the brink of…

“Ooh, ooh, ooh.”

“I'm going to make you cream all over this dick,” he whispers to me, his dick fighting against my clamping walls. I am on the verge of an orgasm.

“Do it. Yes. Make. Me. Come. All. Over. Your…fat…mmmm…dick.”

Charles pulls me to the edge of my desk, lifting my hips and slamming into me hard, his cock becoming a piston of passion. His balls slap-box the back of my pussy.

The musky scent of sweet fucking fills my office. It intoxicates me. And all I can think to do is cry out as Charles pulls his dick out of me, quickly leaning in and burying his face between my sticky thighs, sucking my clit into his mouth. He sucks hard and fast.