Chapter 4: Climax
It’s not like I wanted it to be this way. It’s just that I had an itch, and my husband Peter couldn’t be home to scratch it. I felt the absence of his rough hands exploring my body, those deep, animalistic growls that escaped from him as he traced the curves of my waist, and pinched my rosy nipples.
I shifted in my seat, imagining the sting of his hand striking my upturned ass in a sudden, unexpected smack.
The sizzle of meat and the chatter of customers filled the air, and as I anxiously glanced around, no one suspected what truly was happening behind the hotdog stand.
The wooden counter of Jim's stand creaked under my fingertips, the grease and mustard-stained surface a testament to Jim’s success. I pushed myself up, slowly parting my thighs and easing myself along the wooden floor.
Jim's eyes widened as he took me in, hidden except for a glimpse of red locks.