Lying naked on the bed, my breath still uneven, I was lost in the fading aftermath of the most incredible orgasm I'd ever had. My lover had slipped away just seconds ago—too soon. All those hours of online conversations with him had connected us in ways that went far beyond lust. We had explored each other's minds and desires, building something that made me curious about where it could go. Now that we had finally made it a reality, I craved even more, but the creak of the front door cut our time short.

"Honey?" my husband's voice echoed from downstairs.

Footsteps on the stairs sent a jolt of panic through my chest. He was coming to the bedroom. There was no time to think, no time to hide the evidence of what had just happened. The smell of sex lingered in the air, a reminder of my affair.

When my husband entered, his eyes widened, locking onto me—naked, disheveled, and still flushed with lingering heat. He froze, surprise and curiosity flickering across his face.

"I forgot something," he rasped, his voice thick and unsteady.

As he stepped closer to the bed, our eyes met, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through me. Could he see the guilt in my expression? Would he accuse me of cheating, of being a whore?

My breath hitched, bracing for the confrontation. But then I saw a flicker of desire in his gaze as he took in the sight of my flushed skin, my messy hair. It wasn't judgment staring back at me; he was captivated, drawn to the untamed passion still clinging to me.

He reached for the file on the nightstand, the work that always consumed him, pulling him away once again. As he turned, the familiar ache settled in my chest—would he even notice if, one day, I wasn't there anymore? I wondered, as I often had, if he'd just continue drowning in his endless routine, blind to everything slipping away, including me.

He stopped at the door, file in hand, ready to leave, but something made him glance back at me. His eyes lingered as his fingers casually loosened his tie, his deep brown eyes locked on mine, filled with something I hadn't seen in a long time.

The tie slipped to the floor, quickly followed by his jacket. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, letting it fall onto the growing pile. His eyes never left mine as he kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt, letting his pants drop, standing there, stripped bare, without saying a word.

My breath hitched as he climbed onto the bed, naked and aroused, his gaze burning with an intense desire that made my pulse race. Heat built in my core, my body betraying me as his gaze pressed into me, daring me to react.

He positioned himself above me, and my body instinctively yielded to him, arching slightly as if craving contact. His hard erection was poised at my entrance, ready to claim what was rightfully his.

Despite being with my lover just moments ago, the desire still lingered. Both men stirred something different in me, but the need for my husband, who had neglected me, was growing stronger now. The frustration and longing for both were tangled inside me, but with my husband so close, the months of wanting him rushed back.

As he penetrated me, a soft groan escaped my lips, and I heard my husband's voice, heavy with lust, "Fuck, you're so wet, honey."

He didn't know that my arousal was fueled by another man's touch, and my pussy was slick with evidence of my lover's passion.

As my husband thrust into me, the mere idea of his cum mixing with my lover's turned me on like crazy, making my body shake with pure lust, aching for him to release inside me.

My hands gripped his back, fingers digging into his skin, leaving red marks behind as my moans filled the room, a twisted blend of pleasure and betrayal. The sound of my whimpers only fueled him, driving him to thrust harder and faster.

My husband had no idea another man had touched my body—and even worse, held a small piece of my heart. But somehow, it was like he could sense something had changed, pushing him to take me with more urgency, as if trying to erase every trace of the lover still lingering in my thoughts.

Each powerful thrust rubbed his pubic bone against my engorged clitoris, eliciting a chorus of helpless moans and gasps from my lips.

"I'm so close," I panted, my voice trembling with desire.

"Cum," he mumbled. "My little slut."

A chill shot through me—did he know? The fear crept in, gripping my chest as the thought swirled in my mind. But before I could linger on it, my body betrayed me, arching and shuddering as molten heat consumed me.

"Oh, fuck!" I cried out, my voice breaking as his hips pounded in a merciless rhythm, claiming me as his own.

With one final powerful thrust, he let out a satisfied grunt, his body tensing as he filled me with his warmth. My core convulsed around him, absorbing every drop of his essence and mixing it with my lover's cum that was buried deep inside me. It was a chaotic mix of ecstasy and shame for being such a cumslut that sent me spiraling into a frenzy, my walls tightening around him, milking him dry.

As the last waves of my orgasm coursed through me, my body trembled beneath him, but the rush of pleasure was already giving way to the creeping guilt that I couldn't ignore.

He looked down at me, his eyes locking with mine. "I love you so much," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

My heart splintered at that moment. The truth hung between us, unspoken, while he remained blissfully ignorant of what I had done. I couldn't tell him—his trust, his love, it would all shatter. The weight of it pressed harder, suffocating me, but he didn't see it. He couldn't.

With a sigh, he pulled away. "I've got to get to work," he said, getting dressed without a second thought.

As he buttoned his shirt and turned to leave, a hollow ache settled in my chest. But the painful truth was undeniable: without my lover, my husband would still not see me or touch the part of me that had been smothered in silence.

It wasn't just the affair; it was the need it had dragged out—something primal and unsettling, hiding beneath the surface all this time. Now, I couldn't shove it back down. I couldn't unfeel it.

My husband finished getting dressed, straightening his shirt before leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"I'll see you for dinner, honey," he said with that familiar smile.

With one last glance, he walked out, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

I was torn between the spark my lover had ignited and the years I'd invested in building a life with my husband. My lover was a stranger, a fantasy. Our life was real, solid. I told myself that I couldn't let one mistake destroy everything we'd created together. I should be able to walk away… but a part of me wasn't sure if I could.

Just as I tried to catch my breath, my phone buzzed. My heart raced as I glanced at the screen—it was a message from my lover.

"I've never felt this alive with anyone else."

And I felt it too. A warmth rushed through me, the memory of our time together still pulsing in my body. My phone buzzed again.

"I need to see you again."

I knew I should end it. My husband was finally paying attention after so long, but the thrill I felt with my lover was addictive. I wasn't ready to let go—not yet.

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