The thought of you coming home with the residue off another woman’s juices still in your lips. That you don’t even have to say a word – I can smell the infidelity on your breath, her perfume lingering on your chest – smeared in long sensual streaks from where you pulled her close, enveloping her in your muscular arms even as her volumous, silky breasts overtake your own, made concave against the muscle in your well-developed pecs. Tao. Yin and Yang. Entangled in a beautiful dance, dirvishes brought to life by primal and rythmic dry humping as you press your formidable clit against her soft thighs as your mouths, sealed together, unify your bodies end-to-end.
She is young and inexperienced. In her overzealousness she drives her tongue clumsily and eagerly into you mouth as if she wishes for you to subsume her into yourself – to take her body as your own. You feel her hot saliva, the fluids of a stranger, fall from her tongue onto your own – mingling, stirred into a froth in the passionate fury. Her pelvis slamming against your own in the tangled mass of limbs, her swollen pussy sputterring and leaking dollops of squaline without discretion, without regard for common decency. A gluttonous slob displaying no decorum in the presence of a royal banquet, a flippant teenager in the presence of a michaelangalo, unable to appreciate the depth of the human experience, for her own lack thereof.
The swollen beast makes contact with your thigh. Your angular quads do not yeild, a hatchet splitting the beast along its seam. The ensuing flood may as well be the viscera of a sacrificial lamb given the immensity of the deluge. Her moans are muffled in your intertwined lips, reverberating from one throat to the next. You feel her air fill your own lungs, expanding your chest ever so slightly, pressing further into her pliable tits. She drags her pussy back and forth on your quad, painting your thighs, a viscous lacquer. In the vigorous scissoring contest, the victor is obvious. You hurl her sideways to the bed with one leg straight up in the air, clutching it tightly to your chest, while straddling the other, assuming the dominant position. The seal has been broken, residual spittle hangs at the corner of your mouth. A rapid dog with a singular focus. You take her. You press you clit into the beast. It surrenders gladly to its conquerer, showering you with gratitude, wrapping its new queen in a hefty purple robe. A new woman is made, champagne erupting in celebration…
You recorded it for me as always, but as your clothes fall to a bedroom floor for the second time tonight, I do not need a phone to tell the story. Of course it’s written in the smirk on your face, followed by the schoolgirl giggle. We do not need words to communicate. I prefer the forensic approach – at least initially. I taste the spit – now dried – as my kiss reclaims my queen. I slowly work my way down your body, collecting the evidence. I feel the stickiness of freshly-dried ecstasy upon your outer thigh, an unusual location were it your own, I see the faint outline of unfamiliar lipstick encircling your left nipple. The phermones of a stranger tease my nostrils. As you open your legs before me, your labia part, a barely audible sound of wetness reminds me that someone else has previously and recently been here – and that you invited them. I lick and suck every crevasse, cleaning the crime scene. The flavor is new and vibrant; she was young and, shall we say, healthy? Certainly your type. The taste is scintillating, arousing. I need more. I lap every drop even as you replenish the well. It is a ravenous thirst – I need to taste every drop of your new slut. Your pussy obliges, a biblical flood is my reward.
10 parts lust, 5 parts yearning, 2 parts jealousy, 1 part rage, mix and stew for 3hrs while you’ve been “working out”. Now, I’m so hard, it is painful. You push me onto the bed and finally relinquish the video evidence. Make that 3 parts jealousy, 3 parts rage, but it turns me on so much. 8 parts vicarious lust? I don’t have a word for the feeling. The recipe is complex, but you are a virtuoso, a polymath masterfully blending the art and the science. As if to reassure me and noticing my predicament, you push me back on the bed, pleasuring me as I watch the story unfold before my eyes in a 1080p indictment.
One more secret, one more skeleton in the closet – a veritable graveyard of virginity and bad decisions.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/rk05id/skeletons_in_the_closet_lesbian_hotwife