“It’s wrong! She’ll know!” I plead. Because I’ll tell her.

You know I can’t resist you. Before, you rejected my love.

Now, here, you ambushed me.

Your cunt—slick and hot from your premeditation—traps my cock—helplessly rigid from your wet panties smearing my lips. Your breasts seize my hands. Your ass and thighs pin me.

Your ride is manic. My eruption triggers your gratification. You win.

My orgasm burns my cold heart; yours animates your body’s macabre celebration of the death of my marriage.

Rising, you deliberately stride over me, your pussy dripping our fluids onto my face.