I barely hear the lively buzz of our friends around the table because my sole focus is her. Emilia. Laughing animatedly at her husband's anecdote, waves of hair shaking over bare shoulders, slowing as she senses my penetrative gaze and makes eye contact. I witness the flash. The spark.

Nobody knows. Not Ben, not Rebecca. Not Steve. Not my wife. All oblivious to our affair that gnaws at my fractured subconscious, swamping any resolve I once had. I eventually look away. Finish my pasta, numb with need.

Ever the hostess, Emilia rises and collects bowls. I should stay. Fight the urge. But primal lust obliterates my vows.

I stand sharply clearing this side of the table, catching her eye before taking dishes through the short hallway to the kitchen. Lavish. Huge fridge, adorned with family achievements and to-do lists under magnets bearing holiday destinations.

She breezes in, deposits the dishes and meets my stare. Flicks her eyes to my crotch, bulge already forming.

Resistance evaporates.

Stepping into her space, I circle my fingers around her neck, walking her back to the far wall, breathe her in then kiss the fuck out of her.

There's no doubt she can feel how hard I am, bodies pressed together as everything else falls away. I've been on edge all day for her, despite knowing I shouldn't. The way she responds makes me suspect she's been the same.

I drag my free hand down the front of her body, hike her dress and tuck fingers beneath her panties. Feel how wet she is for me. Fuck. Slipping a finger inside her to coat it, I pull out and circle her clit. Just the edges.

My stubble scrapes her face as I invade her silky, warm, wet depths and tease her shiny nub. Pinned to the wall, she bucks against my hand while my mouth owns hers. Our breath becomes one as I show her exactly how much her raw beauty infects me.

The little moans she makes into my mouth thrill me, my fingertip twirling around the very edges of her aching jewel. Her hips roll, searching for every ounce of friction against my tormenting fingers. I keep her on edge.

Teasingly, I graze my finger over her clit and feel her jolt with each brush. But mostly I circle. Tantalise. Despite the frantic nature of our union and the danger of discovery, I'm unhurried. My tongue swirls in her mouth, and I catch fleeting glimpses of eyes drugged with need as she moans against my lips.

Her hands are the only things free to roam while mine are occupied and I wonder what she'll do with them. Clutch me? Drag nails down my back? Free my cock?

Our thoughts are synchronised. Her fingers unzip me, grazing my bulge to tease. She slips her fingers inside to grasp my length, nails scraping lightly, coaxing me harder before freeing me from my trousers.

Fuck. Her delicate hand wrapping my hardness makes me groan into the kiss. I slide my fingers between her folds. Drive them inside, coating them in viscous honey. I twist them in and up, finger fucking her as my palm crushes her needy clit and our tongues thrash.

The way we tease, heedless of the consequences, thrills me like nothing else. Her fingers tighten around me, urging me towards climax. The kiss grows desperate and frantic; all heat and no control.

I tear my lips from hers and plunge them to her neck, scuffing and biting as I pick up pace inside her soaked tunnel, gripping her pussy between fingers and palm. She rolls her head to grant me access and I mark the tender flesh. So dangerous. Maybe they’ll wonder, but only we'll know.

Teasing my steely length, she pumps, grips, smears copious pre-come all over my surging cock, wetness clicking with our muted gasps alongside her family calendar.

My wrist stretches her underwear away from her body as I relentlessly finger her. Biting my way to her ear, I growl, "Come on my fingers, Emilia. Finish me so I slash your cunt with my come and it drips into your panties. Wear my spunk."

I'm not sure if it's my words or fingers that drive her over the edge, but as I nip her neck, biting just above my tight clutch, she moans my name and begs for me to mark my territory as she peaks, pulsing and dripping around my digits.

The need wells under her insanely hot grip, strengthening as her release takes hold. She wanks my shaft furiously, aiming above the stretched waistband at her spasming cunt as I paint her pussy with come.

It's so fucking exhilarating, fingers impaled in her clenching heat as I fire jets onto her smooth skin, my seed dribbling into her underwear while she trembles through her orgasm.

I shiver as our pulsing wanes and I lose myself once more in her hot kiss, hand sliding from her neck to cup her cheek.

Slipping my fingers from her pussy, I bring them between our lips for us to savour. Her arousal drifts and I let her ravenously suck them clean, then step back and we spend a moment watching my come stain her panties. The dress shortly hides our indiscretion, save for the marks on her neck.

Her eyes flash as she pats my cock, grabs the bowls for dessert and skips from the room. I zip up. Breathe. Grab the wine and return to our perfect lives, neither of us knowing why they're no longer enough. Fuck, we’re insane. We need to stop before they smell me on her as she sits and squirms, my come glueing panties to her skin. Before Ben asks me to pass the wine and detects his wife's arousal smeared on the outside of the bottle by my fingertips.

But as I catch her helpless gaze across the table, I know our thoughts are once again in sync and our affair is far from over.