Thanks for letting me come round. This has been burning inside me for days now – it’s driving me mad, keeping me up nights. I’m sure Alec’s noticed something’s wrong. I can’t hold it in anymore, I have to tell someone. You know, a release valve. And – well, I know you won’t judge. In fact knowing you, I think you’ll probably enjoy it. Just try not to enjoy it too much.

You know already, don’t you? It happened – with Declan. Look, don’t say a word. Don’t say ‘I told you so’ or tell me I knew I was going to do this. I honestly didn’t. At least I think I didn’t. Just sit there and listen. Not a word, I need to get this out. All of it, however… however sordid.

I didn’t tell you what happened last week, did I? At work, at the water cooler. I was standing there getting a drink and all of a sudden he was there, close up to me, his fingers brushing my hand. I couldn't even react - my breath just caught in my throat.

He said, "I want to give you something." It was the first time he'd spoken to me since the office party - since then it had been nothing more than covert glances.

I said, "What's that?", but I was already dreading to know the answer.

He said, "Fair warning."

I bloody well spilled my water. I could feel his breath on my neck and it all came rushing back. I swear to hell I'd tried not to let it, I’d fought to keep the memories at bay. That damned Christmas party - I can hardly remember how I ended up in that storeroom with him. We'd just been chatting and I'd been a bit tipsy and then he was... backing me in there and I was so surprised I wasn't even trying to stop him. He had his mouth on mine - I could taste whiskey and I could smell his cologne and it was all so... intoxicating. Like I didn’t have the will to make it stop.

There we were in that dark closet and before I knew it, he had his hand down my panties, kissing my neck, while his fingers were reaching... pushing inside me, right inside me, so easily... and then my pussy was clenching on him. I was giving myself up to him like I couldn't help it. I was thinking about Alec, but in that moment, I didn't care. All that mattered was his mouth on me and how fucking masterful he was - 'masterful', that's the word - and how slippery I felt as my pussy clutched him. I was being finger-fucked by another man and it all felt so – natural.

I didn't know where I was, just that I was coming all over his hand, with his breath hoarse in my ear. Whispering ‘That’s it, that’s it… Give it up to me…” Christ, he was loving it. The only thing to salve my conscience afterwards was that I pushed him away before we screwed. But even that was maybe only because there was so much noise nearby and I was scared we'd get caught. I kept thinking ‘If there’d been no one else around, would I have let him?’ And I was scared of the answer.

I know, I know, that's old news. You've heard all that before. Well, he reminded me of it all by that cooler with just a few words and a brush of his hand.

I knew I shouldn't ask the question, but I did. I had to know what he meant. "Fair warning of what?"

He said, "The team building weekend in Dorset. You and me."

I could hardly catch a breath. I said, "I've got a husband."

He said, "I don't care."

I said, "I DO."

And he said, "I know you do. But you'll still open your door to me when I come to your room." He SAID THIS, word for word. "You'll still strip for me, you'll still let me bend you down and spread your palms on the dresser, so I can fuck you slow and hard. You'll feel every stroke," he said. "You'll see your own reflection as you cum, and you’ll love every second. Like I said, fair warning."

He said it all so quietly, but with such complete conviction, like it was decided. I was shaking. I said, "It's not going to happen."

He just said, "Keep telling yourself that," and then the arrogant bastard walked away. He was smiling to himself. And I was trembling - and wet, so wet.

I did what he said, I kept TELLING myself. "It's not going to happen. It's not going to happen." But however many times I said it, I never once believed it. Not really. I'd been so good since the party - I'd felt so damned guilty about what happened in that storeroom. Tried to be - you know, the good wife to Alec - make up for how I felt. Held back all those thoughts about Declan, while all the while they were trickling through, like I was trying to stop up a dam. And now they'd all come flooding back. Nothing I could do to stop them, like I was drowning in fantasy.

I told myself he was a using bastard - I mean he's well known, the fucking self-styled office Lothario, all flirting and innuendo, and shagging the temp girls every chance he gets. He'd never get done for harassment, because he plays it so well. You feel flattered, when you should damn well want to slap him or report him.

I even thought about calling in sick, the Friday we were to go off on the team-building, but I didn't know what to say to Alec. I was so worried he'd start asking why I didn't want to go.

We arrived in Dorset, the whole coachload of us. I stuck with Jenny, avoided Declan all I could. I was determined I wouldn't speak with him the whole weekend, if I could avoid it. The first night there was nothing. We were drinking till late, but I managed to stay in a little covert in the hotel bar chatting to Jenny and a few of the others and there was no sign of him. I could hardly sleep - I was sure he'd come knocking. But... nothing. I was so fucking relieved. And… okay, yes, part of me was disappointed.

It was all fine, till the Saturday afternoon and the paintballing. I was starting to relax and enjoy myself - get into the spirit of the events. I'm wandering through the woods - they've this great paintballing range outside Bournemouth. I've never done it before, but I was really getting into it. Stalking through the trees in fatigues - I mean it was fun, and I'd taken out one of two people, it was a real rush. I'm getting confident, and then...

WHACK. There’s this explosion of pain on my ass. Somebody's got me. I look over my shoulder and I can see this great splodge of pink paint on my right ass cheek, and then I hear the laugh. HIS laugh. It's so... cocky, so self-congratulating.

He's swaggering up towards me in his fatigues, and he's one of the guys who actually looks good in them, who doesn’t look like a prick. I mean he is a prick, but he looked more fucking hot than I wanted to admit. He's cradling his gun and he says - get this - "That was me claiming your ass for tonight."

He smacks his hand to the cheek he's just shot and he grips it, and then he holds up his gloved hand to my face and there’s pink paint all over it. He says, "It won't be paint I'll be firing later..."

Dirty bastard, I should have slapped him, but I couldn't. He left me there in the woods, out of the game and shaking with rage and... and yes, I was wet all over again, okay? Don't laugh. It's not fucking funny! I'm married! I love Alec, alright? You know I do. I should have done something to stop it. God knows what.

I sat in my room that night and I was waiting, knowing he was going to show up. Knowing I should be locking the door, I mean he wasn't going to break it down, right? I'd had most of a bottle of sauvignon blanc just to calm my nerves.

I was sitting shoeless in a summer dress, waiting like an executioner was going to show up. My heart was pounding. I sit there and I wait, until I think he’s not going to show. And when I start to think that, I’m not relieved – I’m bloody pissed at him. All this tension and he’s going to forget about me? That would have been the worst.

It's after eleven when the knock finally comes, and I nearly jump out of the bloody dress. I'm pulling one strap up. "Hello?" I say, like it might have been anyone.

"I'm not going to open up," he says. "You're going to let me in."

I'd thought maybe I could just tell him to leave... That's not true, that's a fucking lie. I knew I wouldn't. I knew what I was going to do - what I was going to let HIM do.

I went and I opened the door, simple as that. "Declan," I said, "we shouldn't... I can't..."

He just slid his arm around my waist and backed me in, swinging the door shut behind him. He said, "We shouldn't, but we're going to. And you might say you can't, but if you didn't want to, you wouldn't have let me get this far." He pulled me up tight to him - he was wearing slacks and a white shirt and he looked like a bloody romantic hero, only he wasn't, he was the same cocky shit he always is. And I could feel him through my dress like I had in the storeroom, how huge and hard he was. It was - God, I was so excited. Like all he had to do was grab me and all my nervousness kind of dissolved from the need for him.

Is that terrible? To say I NEEDED him?

He said, "Now we get to finish what we started, Mrs Galloway." He grabbed my ass with his hands - he works out a lot, those hands are used to gripping - and pulled me tight to him, so I could feel him properly. Then he took hold of me by the hair with one hand and trapped me into a kiss - not trapped – I mean I was going to kiss him, but he made sure. He didn't deserve my mouth on his, he didn't deserve to have my tongue stroking his tongue when he lashed it, but I gave it to him even so. Oh God…

He said, "Is that ass still stinging from this afternoon?"

I said, "No," then he reached down and pulled up my dress, and whacked my bare ass cheek with the other hand. God, he made me squeal.

"Now it’s stinging," he said. Then, "Turn around."

I did. I didn't think about it, just did what he said. He unzipped the dress down the back and slid the straps off my shoulders. He said, "Get the dress off." I don't even remember doing it, I just know that all of a sudden I was standing there in a panty-thong and a half-cup bra in front of him, knowing that I'd worn them with him in mind.

That I wanted him to rip them off me.

"Now the bra," he said. “I want to see those gorgeous tits.”

God, he was making me do it myself. I wanted him to see me. I know I've got pretty tits - that's not vanity, I have - and I thought Alec would be the only man ever to see them again. But there I was, unclipping my bra and sliding it off myself, wanting that... that fucker to get even harder at the sight of me. Fuck - what's WRONG with me?

He reached out and stroked the lace of my bra, and then he kind of flicked it off me, and seized my tits. His palms were cupping me, and his lips were curving into this knowing smile and he said something like "Fuck, yes. Time to get this party started." What a fucking cliché.

But I was melting into him anyway, leaning into the caress of his hands, and my nipples were hard against him. He squeezed, and he kissed me again, and fuck, it was almost romantic, and then suddenly it was, "Get on your knees."

I don't understand it - why I'd want to gratify this guy, but God help me, I did. I was sliding down him, trailing a hand down his body - so hard, muscular, defined - getting down on my knees in my panties like a little slut, like my wedding three years before had never happened.

He was pushing, putting me in place, but I wasn't resisting, I was helping. I didn't even wait for him to unzip his trousers, what point was there by that stage? I did it for him, undid it all along with him and pulled his trousers and his briefs away from his... his cock. Oh fuck, if you'd seen it - it just sprang out and whacked me on the cheek. He laughed, he loved it.

Loved seeing the look on my face while his huge perfect cock swung back and forth in my face. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful cock – thick and gorgeous.

"You know what to do," he said. “Get to fucking work.” Then my mouth was full with him, my lips were stretched right around that big rigid dick. Yes, I loved it - and I enjoy remembering it. I can't help it. His cock was so damn hot and I sucked it like his whore. Like I was one of his slutty little temps on her knees, learning her place. My head was bobbing on it like fury - I mean I'd already let him frig me silly in a closet, so there was hardly any use pretending to be coy.

He was loving the fuck out of it – loving what I was doing and loving that he’d got his married bitch where he wanted her. Claiming his prize. He gripped my hair in both hands - he wove his fingers into my hair and pushed down, made me take his cock right down my throat. I almost fucking choked on him, his was so big.

I came off him, spluttering and drooling, and he laughed again, looking so fucking smug and pleased with himself. "That's it, good girl," he said, or some patronising bullshit. “Suck my fucking cock.” Then he pushed me down again, made me throat-fuck him over and over, squelching deep in my throat, and I loved it. Loved how much HE was loving it. There was mess everywhere, drool all over his shaft and his balls. Spit pouring from my mouth all over his great throbbing cock. My eyes were watering, I could hardly see. He pulled me off, made me lick it up, made me lick his balls. Rubbed his cock all over my face. “Christ, Sadie,” he said, “I knew you’d be a filthy bitch for me.”

He ripped his shirt off, tore off everything else he had on. Fuck, he looks good. No wonder he loves getting naked in front of a woman. No wonder he's got such a high fucking opinion of himself...

"Like what you see?" he says. I mean, God... Thing is, I did. I like it a lot.

He pulled me up - just hoisted me onto my feel like a doll in front of him and kissed me again, hard - his body's like fucking steel. It's like being caged, when he holds you, only he can soften the grip, make you think you're special just for that moment...

Right before he takes you by your hair, with your wrists clasped behind your back, and damn well marches you to the dresser with his cock slapping against your virtually naked ass.

God, he's strong. He said, "I like what I see. A hot, needy slut who's not getting what she wants at home. Where's your hubby now?" He actually SAID that.

He pushed me right to the dresser and I could see us both in the mirror. My hair everywhere and my mascara blotchy all over my face my nipples hard... Christ, I looked such a slut… Him manhandling me into place, everything about him so hard and the look on his face - so cocksure.

I said, "Leave my husband out of it."

He said, "What - you mean out of your cunt?"

He pushed me down onto the surface of the dresser, knocked everything out of the way. Ripped my knickers off – I mean ripped them – fucking tore them away from my ass with one hand and then tore them apart with both, with this… this animal ferocity on his face. Like he wasn’t ready to wait a second longer than her had to. He spread my legs apart with his knee, put himself right there between them and then grabbed my hands - splayed them flat on the dresser surface like he'd said he'd do.

I could feel him fit his cock to my pussy - I was thinking Oh God, this is it, now I get fucked to all hell. I’d made vows - I stood in a church and gave myself to someone and never dreamed I'd let another man do this to me. And he was right there, about to ram himself inside me.

And then he said, "Ask for it."

I said, "What?" I mean I panted it, I could hardly speak.

And he said, "Ask for it. Beg for it. Say 'Fuck my married cunt.'"

I told him "No, don't make me say that."

He whacked my ass – I mean he spanked it hard. He said, "Say it. Say those words. Say 'Fuck my married cunt.'"

God help me - I said it. I said it and it made me drip. I said, "Fuck my married cunt. Please." I added 'Please'.

Christ, he did it. He shafted me good. I mean, he got that head inside me and shoved as much of it into me on the first stroke as he could manage.

I was crying out, my reflection screaming back at me, like we were a pair of slutty bitches being fucked face-to-face – while he pulled out and sank it all the way - all his hard inches in me to the balls.

His body slammed hard against mine - he had both hands on my hips and he fucking buried it. I'll never forget the satisfaction on his face - the triumph. He'd been imagining nailing this married pussy for months. Now he was in the act of doing it, and the bastard made sure he enjoyed the moment.

He was good to his promise at the water cooler - he made every stroke count. Long, slow and hard - drawing almost all the way out and slamming back in, like every time was the first.

I was low against the dresser, tits shuddering, groaning on every stroke he packed into me. It was... oh God, it was fucking glorious. I was so wet for him, so keyed up. He reached around - it was the only fucking halfway gentlemanly thing he did all night - and touched me and I was starting to cum already.

"God," he said, "you're aching for this. That husband of yours mustn't know what he's fucking doing." And he shafted me wide with that big dick of his, while I clenched and came all over it.

He was talking all through it - "That's right, let's feel that cheating pussy grip my cock. That's so fucking good. Fucking cream all over it." You know, all that shit. Jesus, it was hot.

I was out of control. I didn't care what he said. I clutched his cock with my cunt and squeezed it like I was trying to milk it dry. He fucked all through my orgasm and beyond. He went crazy on me - pulled me up by the shoulder and rammed it hard. Over and over. His body was sweating and rigid and his face - he was fucking possessed. His balls were bouncing off my thighs, and that big, bruising cock was shafting the fuck out of my cunt.

And he wouldn't stop rubbing it in... "Hubby fuck you like this? Does he, Sadie? Where do you think he is now? Cracking open a can and watching the fucking football, while I shaft the fuck out of his pretty wife."

Gripping my tit and pounding me out of my senses. Jesus fucking Christ...

And then I hear that growl... "Oh yes, here we go..." I know he's near. And he has to rub it in some more. "Maybe it doesn't count if I don't shoot it inside you," he says. He pulls out and drags me up, and suddenly I'm down on my knees again. "Suck it," he said. "Suck it hard."

I get my mouth around it when it's already pulsing. Seconds later it's shooting off the roof of my mouth and I'm filling up with his cum. He's gripping my hair and groaning, bracing himself against me and pumping my mouth full with his load. I'm gulping it down, drinking him, and he's still hosing off. It's spilling out the corners of my mouth and dripping all over me. His hips bucking and his cock spurting – he’s groaning “Fuck, fuck, fuck yes…” till he’s pumping out his last.

"That's right," he says, "drink it down and lick it all up. Clean me up and pretend you're being a good wifey." I do it for the bastard, I like him all clean.

He stands there with his cock satisfied and flagging, with a finger to my chin, making me look up at him. "There," he said, "told you, you were going to fuck me."

He started putting his clothes back on with me still on my knees, and THEN I got angry. I said, "Where the fuck are YOU going?"

He said, "I'm going to the bar for a drink, you know, chat to whoever’s there, while you get yourself all tidied up again and get naked into bed. Then I'm going to come back and fuck my married slut all over again. Stuff her cheating pussy full of cock till it’s had enough. How does that sound?"

Bastard. Rotten fucking bastard. Hateful piece of shit.

"It sounds good," I told him. “Really good.”

It was. Heaven help me, it was great. He came back hard and ready and wrecked my cunt all fucking night – and I loved every – filthy – moment.

So, tell me… What do you think of me now?

This story was written and the role of Declan performed by Jake Malden

Editing and performing the role of Sadie - Jayne33