Chapter 8: Chapter 8
"I was out shopping today, but I also met Hunter for lunch." She said while unbuttoning her jeans "It was supposed to be just a meal to talk about last night, nothing more, I swear or i would have checked with you first." Ashley's fingers trembled as she slid the denim down her hips, revealing a pair of black lace panties that clung to her skin like a second layer. The fabric was already damp, the crotch darkened with the evidence of her arousal.
Justin's breath caught in his throat as he watched her. The sight of his wife, the woman he had married, standing there half-naked in their bedroom, confessing to meeting another man—it was too much.
"Tell me what happened," Justin demanded, his voice rough with a mix of jealousy and need. His cock throbbed painfully in his pants, straining against the zipper.
His cock throbbed painfully in his pants, straining against the zipper.
“He texted me when you were on your flight,” Ashley whispered, her voice thin. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her black lace panties. “Said we should meet up for lunch.”
She peeled the soaked fabric down, letting it drop to her ankles. The humid scent of sex and another man’s musk bloomed in the space between them, unequivocal and brutal.
Justin’s nostrils flared. His jaw clenched. “Go on.”
“We met at that bistro on Fifth. The one with the single-stall bathroom in the back.” She stepped out of the lace puddle on the floor and stood naked from the waist down. Her skin glistened. “We hadn’t even finished our salads. He just looked at me across the table and said, ‘Bathroom. Now.’ And I went.”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that.” Her admission was a ghost of sound. She parted her feet slightly, a silent, obscene presentation. “He followed me a minute later. Locked the door. Didn’t say a word.”
She described it in a flat, hurried monotone, as if the words were stones she needed to discard. How he’d pushed her against the cold, tiled wall. How he’d unzipped his jeans and freed that thick, familiar cock, already leaking. How he’d just pulled her panties aside, not even bothering to remove them, and shoved into her with one brutal thrust.
“It hurt,” she said, her eyes glazing over, remembering. “I was dry at first. He didn’t care. He just… pounded me. Grabbed my throat. Called me your little slut while he did it.”
Justin’s vision tunneled. He could see it. The graphic clarity of her description painted the scene on the back of his eyelids: the grimy bathroom, the sound of his wife’s body smacking against tile, Hunter’s grunts. Her legs spread wide allowing his big cock to have better access to her. How her face was likely pressed into the surface of the wall.
“Did you come?” The question slithered out of him.
Ashley hesitated. A faint, traitorous flush crept up her chest. “Yes. When he bit my shoulder. It was so… mean. So fucking degrading. And I came all over his cock. I tried to be quiet, but when he bit me and my orgasm crashed down on me I could not hold back. I felt like such a slut and was sure the whole restaurant heard me.”
A hot wire of rage and arousal seared through Justin’s gut. He took a step forward. “Then what.”
“Then we went back to the table, him first while I straightened myself up. We ate. Talked about the weather.” She gave a hollow, shaky laugh. “My pussy was throbbing. I could feel his cum starting to leak out into my underwear. I was a mess. I tried not to think about if anyone had heard me.”
"I then drove to the mall. I was still shaking from lunch and did not notice that Hunter was following me." She looked at Justin, "I parked and it wasn't until I got out of the car that I noticed he had parked next to me." How Hunter was leering at her, she described how the level they were on wasn't super packed with cars, but it wasn't empty either. How he’d bent her over the hood of her car, the engine still warm, and taken her from behind. He pulled her panties down to the concrete floor, and unbuttoned her blouse. She admitted how she felt when her had undone the front clasp of her bra, letting her breasts spill out onto the hood of the car. That time, she’d been dripping, and he’d slid in easily, fucking her with long, smooth strokes that made her scream into her own arm. It seemed like an eternity that he was in her and she was so sure that they were going to get caught. "The fact that we might get caught actually made me wetter" she admitted with a blush. "We were not that well hidden. Anyone that came by would have probably seen us. I think he might have wanted that!"
“He came in me again,” she confessed, her chin trembling. “Filled me up all over again. Said he was marking what used to be yours as his. I kept thinking someone was going to see us! Hell Justin, I think part of me really wanted to be caught.”
The final stop had been a department store. She had been sure that after the garage he had left her. She described to Justin how with every step she took she could feel his cum leaking out into her panties. She’d been trying on a dress in a fitting room with a flimsy lock. He’d slipped into the stall with her, his hand clamped over her mouth to silence her. He’d lifted the dress she was trying on, fucked her standing up, her face pressed against the mirror, watching herself get ravaged. The stall was tight and with every thrust he pushed her in to the wall, shaking them. Anyone in the stalls nearby would certainly know what was going on!
“That was the last time,” she breathed, her hand moving unconsciously to her lower belly. “That’s what’s inside me right now. From the dressing room. It’s… it’s still there. It’s been hours, but I can feel it. I didn’t clean up. I wanted… I wanted you to see. Something told me you would want to see.”
The room swam. Justin’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. The woman before him was his wife, but she was also a vessel, deliberately kept full of another man’s seed for his inspection. The violation was profound. The erotic charge was undeniable. He found that he was not mad, no he was just as turned on as he was last night.
“Show me,” he growled, his voice barely recognizable. Through her whole tale his cock had been swelling, straining against the tight confines of his pants begging to be set free.
Ashley bit her lip. She walked to the edge of their bed and slowly lay back, spreading her legs wide. She used her fingers to part herself, opening the swollen, used flesh for her husband’s viewing.
Justin moved closer, the old wood of the floor creaking under his weight. He knelt at the foot of the bed, his eyes level with her splayed cunt. The sight stole the air from his lungs.
She was puffy and red, thoroughly fucked. Her inner lips were glazed with a glossy, whitish mixture of her own juices and Hunter’s drying semen. Deeper inside, a thicker, pearl-white deposit clung to her walls. The entire area was a map of recent, violent use.