Chapter 15: Another Firday Night Date
On Friday, Lisa was sitting at her desk again counting down the hours and minutes for her work week to end.
Her heels were tapping impatiently against the thin carpet when the chat box lit up with Marcus’s avatar.
She clicked it open.
Marcus: Finishing that quarterly report felt like pulling teeth. How’s yours?
Lisa: Just sent it. A total soul-crush.
Marcus: Mine too. So, any plans tonight to recover from the corporate drudgery, or are you tragically free?
Her pulse jumped, a thrill spiking through her as she thought of Paul waiting, oblivious, at home.
Lisa: Tragically free so far.
Marcus: No plans with the boyfriend then?
Her fingers hovered over the keys, a flush of heat climbing her neck as she typed the lie that felt like liberation. Lisa: Not tonight. I’ll be with him all weekend, but tonight… tonight could be one of our date nights if you’re interested.
Marcus’s reply was instantaneous: "Sounds great! We should get dinner after work and then head to my place."
The thrill that shot through her was pure and electric, sharper than the excitement she’d felt telling Paul about Derek. She smiled, her body humming with anticipation as she typed her quick reply to Marcus. “Perfect. I’ll meet you in the lobby at five.”
Then, without hesitation, she opened her texts with Paul. Her fingers flew, translating that hum into blunt, deliberate words she knew would land like a punch to his gut: “Not coming home after work. Having dinner with Marcus. Don’t wait up.” She hit send, the simple act flooding her with a dizzying sense of agency, and she placed the phone face down on her desk, its screen dark and silent like a settled bet.
The phone buzzed against the desk wood with a hollow ping barely a minute later. She flipped it over and read Paul’s reply: "Okay. Be safe. Text me when you’re coming home." A slow, unexpected warmth spread through her chest, softer than the sharp thrill of defiance—he was trying, really trying, and it made her glad.
She stared at his compliant response, the three obedient dots, and a sudden, wild thought unfolded: perhaps she would eventually get her biggest wish which was not just for his acceptance, but for his awakening pleasure in it. Her thumb moved, bold and slick on the screen, typing a second message that deliberately pushed the boundary his first reply had silently opened. “I can also keep you updated about how my night goes if you want,” she sent, the words a live wire thrown between them, and her breath caught. The phone lay silent in her palm, a full minute of nothing, before it finally buzzed once. Paul’s reply was just two words: “I do.”
The final hour of work was a buzzing, anticipatory silence, every glance at the clock stretching time until the shrill electronic bell finally released her. She met Marcus outside, the evening air cool on her flushed skin as she quickly typed, “Leaving work now, going to dinner with Marcus,” and sent it into the void where Paul waited. “There’s a great little Italian place two blocks from my apartment,” Marcus said, his hand finding the small of her back to guide her. They walked, her heels clicking a steady rhythm on the pavement beside his longer strides, moving away from the office and toward everything unsaid.
The restaurant was intimate, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight that made the deep red of the wine in Marcus’s glass look almost black. He swirled it slowly, watching her over the rim. “So, you texted him,” he stated, not asking, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the space between them. “He knows you’re here, with me.” Lisa took a deliberate sip of her own wine, the tannins drying her tongue as she nodded. “He knows,” she confirmed, the two words hanging in the air, heavy with implication.
Marcus leaned forward, the candlelight catching the sharp angles of his face. “And how’s that going for him? For you?” he asked, his gaze unflinching. “I mean, what’s the actual plan here, Lisa?” She set her glass down, tracing its base with a fingertip, her thoughts circling the truth she’d only just begun to articulate. “It’s… evolving,” she admitted, her voice barely above the din of the restaurant. “I think part of him is horrified, but another part… it does something for him, to know I’m wanted elsewhere.”
He listened, his expression neutral, calculating. “And what do you believe will happen?” he pressed, cutting through the ambiguity. “Do you see a future with him, or are you just taking what you need until the whole thing collapses?” Lisa exhaled, the question laying bare the silent dread that fueled her nights. “I don’t know,” she whispered, the confession feeling more terrifying than any explicit fantasy she’d shared with Paul. “I think I’m waiting to see which part of him—or which part of me—wins out in the end.”
Marcus absorbed this, a slow smile spreading that didn’t reach his watchful eyes. “Well,” he said, finishing his wine in one smooth swallow, “let’s give the winning side something memorable to consider.” He signaled for the check, his decision made, the conversation effectively closed. The rest of the meal passed in a blur of charged glances and casual touches—his hand on her knee under the table, the brush of his fingers against her wrist as he passed the salt—each contact a promise of what was to come, pulling her focus away from the unstable future and into the demanding, physical present.
Back at his apartment, the door had barely shut before he had her pressed against it, his mouth hot and demanding on hers. Her purse slid from her shoulder, hitting the polished hardwood floor with a soft thud as his hands found her hips, gripping hard. “Tell me what you told him about tonight,” he muttered against her lips, one hand sliding up to squeeze her breast through her blouse. “Did you tell him you were going to get fucked?” he asked, his voice gritty with arousal as he began unbuttoning her shirt with sharp, efficient tugs. “No,” she gasped, her head falling back against the door with a dull knock. “I just said… dinner.”
He laughed, a low, dark sound as he pushed her blouse off her shoulders, exposing her lace bra. “We’ll fix that,” he said, his mouth moving to her neck, sucking a mark into her skin that she knew would bruise. His hands went to his own belt, the leather rasping as he pulled it free, followed by the zip of his trousers. “Get on your knees,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for hesitation, and a jolt of pure, submissive heat shot through her core. She sank down, the floor hard against her knees, her eyes level with the thick outline of his cock straining against his black boxer briefs.
He pushed the briefs down, his erection springing free, already fully hard and flushed dark. The head was slick with pre-cum, and she could smell the musky, clean scent of his skin. “Open your fucking mouth,” he said, his hand tangling in her hair to guide her. She obeyed, parting her lips, her tongue flattening to receive him as he fed himself slowly into the wet heat of her mouth. He was thicker than Paul, and she had to relax her jaw as he slid deeper, the salty-bitter taste of him flooding her senses.
“That’s it, take it all,” he grunted, his hips pushing forward until she felt the head nudge the back of her throat. She gagged softly, tears pricking her eyes as he held himself there for a long, dominant moment before pulling back. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone patronizing and thrilling, before setting a rough, deep rhythm, fucking her face with steady, controlled thrusts. Her own need was a throbbing ache between her legs, her panties soaked as she listened to the wet, obscene sounds of her own submission, her hands coming up to rest helplessly on his powerful thighs.
He pulled his slick cock from her mouth with a wet pop, the cold air sharp on her bruised lips. “You promised you’d update him, right?” Marcus said, his breathing ragged as he pulled her phone from her purse. He unlocked it, opened the camera, and shoved it into her free hand. “Show him what your date night really looks like. Send him a picture of your pretty mouth stretched around my dick.”
The suggestion turned her on tremendously and she complied, a fresh wave of slick heat pulsing between her legs as she lifted the phone. She opened her mouth again, taking him deep until her lips met the coarse hair at his base, and she heard the camera shutter click from her own trembling hand. “Now send it to ‘Boyfriend’,” Marcus grunted, his fingers tightening in her hair as he held her there, his cock throbbing on her tongue. She pulled back just enough to see the screen, the image vivid and humiliating: her glossy lips stretched obscenely around his dark shaft, her eyes looking up, blurry with submission. Her thumb hovered, then tapped send, the whoosh sound sealing the act, and she felt a terrifying, electric liberation as Marcus dragged her up by her hair and pushed her toward the bedroom.
Marcus shoved her through the bedroom doorway, the door slamming behind them as he spun her around. His hands went to the clasp of her bra, snapping it open with practiced ease, and the lace fell away to bare her small, firm tits to the dim light.
She shed the rest of her clothes in a haze of rough hands and eager skin, her skirt pooling at her feet before Marcus guided her backward onto the mattress. He lowered himself onto the bed, his body a wall of dark muscle against the pale sheets, and Lisa straddled him without hesitation, her knees finding purchase on either side of his hips. She reached down, her fingers wrapping around the base of his cock, feeling the heat and the weight of it in her palm. He was slick with her saliva, the head glistening, and she guided him to her entrance, dragging the tip up and down her soaked slit with deliberate, torturous slowness. Marcus's hands found her hips, gripping hard enough to bruise. "Stop teasing and sit on this fucking cock," he growled.
She sank down, taking him inch by thick inch, a low moan ripping from her throat as she felt herself stretch around him. The fullness was overwhelming, a deep pressure that spread through her pelvis and up her spine, making her toes curl. She paused when she was seated completely, his balls pressed against her ass, his cock buried to the hilt inside her. "Fuck, Lisa," he breathed, his hands sliding up to her waist. "Ride me like you mean it." She planted her palms on his chest and began to move, a slow, rolling grind that dragged every inch of him against her walls in a maddening friction. "That's it," he groaned, his eyes fixed on her bouncing tits. She quickened her pace, slamming herself down on his shaft with increasing force, her breath coming in sharp, desperate pants as she chased the pressure building deep inside her. She was taking what she wanted, using him for her own pleasure, and the thought of Paul, alone in their dark apartment, waiting for her update, only made her fuck harder.
She rode him with a wild, grinding fury, her thighs burning as she slammed her cunt down on his thick cock again and again, the wet slap of their bodies filling the room. Marcus watched her tits bounce, his jaw tight, and then he felt the telltale flutter of her walls gripping him. "Come on this dick," he demanded, and she did, a shuddering cry tearing from her throat as her orgasm rolled through her, her cunt milking him in slick, rhythmic pulses. He gave her no time to recover, grabbing her waist and flipping her onto her side. He slid behind her, lifting her top leg and pushing back into her soaked, quivering pussy from the side, his cock driving deep at the new angle.
He fucked her from the side in long, punishing strokes, one hand gripping her hip, the other pulling at her nipple until it ached. Her tits swayed with every thrust, her ass slapping against his thighs, and she moaned into the pillow, her hair sticking to her flushed cheeks.
He pulled out with a wet sound, dragged her onto her hands and knees, and shoved her face down into the sheets. "Ass up," he grunted. She arched her back, presenting her dripping pussy to him, and he slammed home in one brutal thrust. The new angle drove him impossibly deep, the head of his cock hammering that swollen spot inside her with every stroke. Her fingers clawed the sheets, her breath breaking into jagged sobs as he fucked her without mercy, and the pressure coiled tight and hot in her belly until it snapped. She came with a strangled scream, her cunt clenching wildly around him, and Marcus fucked her straight through it, growling her name.
Marcus fucked her straight through it, growling her name, his rhythm turning ragged as his balls drew up tight. "Where do you want it, Lisa? Say it," he grunted, hips stuttering.
"Inside me," she gasped, face shoved into the sheets. "Cum inside my pussy. When I get home tonight, I'm going to make Paul eat every drop of your cum out of me as soon as I walk through the door."
Marcus slammed deep with a guttural groan and emptied himself into her, thick pulses of hot cum flooding her cunt. He held her by the hips, buried to the hilt, grinding out the last thick spurts until his cock finally twitched and slowed.
He rolled off her and they collapsed into the tangled sheets, both of them slick with sweat, breathing hard. She turned onto her side and draped her leg over his as the sweat cooled on her skin, Marcus tracing a slow, idle circle on her shoulder with his thumb. The room smelled of sex and her perfume, and her vision still swam in the afterglow. She felt raw and used in a way that made her proud, her thighs sticky with a mix of his cum and her own.
"Hey," Marcus said after a while, his voice low and lazy, "when you said you'd make Paul eat my cum out of you tonight... were you serious, or was that just something nasty you said in the moment because you were getting off?"
Lisa turned her face toward him, her eyes still dreamy but her voice level. "I was serious," she said, and she pushed herself up on one elbow, letting the sheet slide to her waist. "I'm going to text him when I leave here and tell him to be ready. And when I walk in, I'm going to drop my panties in his hand and push him down on his knees and make him clean me out. Every drop."
"You think he'll actually do it?" Marcus asked, amused, watching her face. "I don't hope he'll do it," Lisa said, sitting up and letting the sheet fall away entirely. "I'll make sure he does. I've been listening to podcasts about this, women who cuckold their husbands, and they all say the same thing. The cuckold has to taste the other man's cum, straight from his wife's pussy. It's a step he doesn't get to skip." Marcus propped himself up on one elbow, a grin spreading slowly across his face. "Learn all that from a podcast?" he asked. "From women who know what they're doing," she said. "Paul has to get used to the taste of you. All of you."
Marcus laughed, low and easy, and reached over to pinch her nipple, still hard from his mouth. "You've got this all mapped out," he said.
"Not all of it." Lisa caught his wrist, held it against her chest. Her cunt was still leaking his cum onto the sheet, a warm trickle down her inner thigh. "There's one more thing I want. I want you to fuck me in my bed. In our bed. With Paul in the room, watching you do it."
Marcus went still, then smiled slow. "Would you be willing to do that?" she asked.
"When?"
"Soon. Maybe next weekend, if you'll come."
"I'll come," he said, and pulled her down onto his chest.
She lay draped across his chest, tracing the ridge of his pectoral with her fingertip, the slow drag of her nail through the sweat cooling on his skin. The cum was still leaking from her in a warm trickle, soaking the sheet beneath her hip, and she felt no urge to clean it up.
"I want to keep exploring," she said, her voice lazy but clear. "Not just with you. Other options too."
Marcus's hand settled on the small of her back, heavy and warm. "Like what?"
"I met a guy at the gym recently. Derek. Big, dark, handsome. I gave him my number, and I'm pretty sure he'll use it." She lifted her head to look at him, watching his face for any flicker of jealousy. None came. "I want to see what happens with him too."
"And Paul?" Marcus asked, his thumb tracing her spine.
"He'll eat my pussy and listen to every detail, just like he did with you. And he'll like it, even if he hates himself for it." She smiled, slow and sharp, feeling the power of it settle in her chest.
Marcus grinned up at her, his hand sliding down to cup her bare ass. "That's a pretty fucking adventurous side you've found, Lisa," he said. "I like it. Whatever you want to try, I'm in."