Let's go back 1 month before all these happens
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'How's Jemma?' Zoe's text said as I got into work. 'Looking forward to her weekend away with Kat?'
I started as I read it. I had forgotten Zoe was friendly with my teenage daughter Kat in our former life and the two were still in touch. Zoe even mentioning her made me nervous.
The two of them were heading off for a girls' weekend and Zoe had already informed me that "your cock is mine this weekend".
'At least you won't have to make something up this time." she texted 'We can fuck all weekend. I can taste your big, wet cock filling my mouth already.'
A photo pinged into my work inbox from her. It was of two different lipsticks. A scarlet red and a glossy pink. Then my phone pinged. 'Which one do you want on my lips when you fuck them?' it read. 'You know how hard I love to suck your cock. You'll be wearing half of this on your shaft when I suck you off into my mouth. You might as well like the colour.'
'Glossy pink every time' I replied, my cock aching and wet inside my pants.
It's safe to say that I wasn't getting much work done. I wasn't getting much of anything done to be honest. I just couldn't stop thinking about fucking Zoe. Sex with my wife, which had long since lost its edge, was now only ever had with me imagining that I was actually fucking Zoe.
After a few months of our affair, I would now only fuck Jemma in the dark, on all fours, my hands tight on her hips, pumping her hard and rough and long, panting and sweating with the effort, imagining it was Zoe: a woman who hated Jemma so much she could almost make herself come just from the knowledge that she was ruining her marriage.
I think Jemma enjoyed the occasional bit of hot and heavy but (naturally) she wanted tenderness too and that was something I couldn't give her any more. I could feel myself tumbling down the rabbit hole towards the darkness, committing new acts each week that would have horrified the old me, but now... thrilled me.
There. I'd pretty much given up pretending that I wasn't complicit in all this. The fact was that once I had got over my initial revulsion at what we were doing, I was hooked on it. The truth? It was insane. And filthy. And therefore hot. I felt awful. Of course I did. But I also felt permanently turned on.
'Where and when?' I texted back.
I know right? Not exactly an innocent party.
'I'm coming round to see you.'
WHAT?
'And you're going to pick out some of Jemma's favourite lingerie for me.'
My stomach lurched.
'Then I'm going to dress up for you in them and make you fuck me. Really hard. In your bed. If you're a really good boy we might call her while I screw you.'
'You know how I love to hear you tell her you love her while my lips are wrapped really tightly around your cock.'
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