2: Good Wife Gone Wild
1535 Words
My p***y and a c**k that’s not my husband’s… Oh, god. I shut my eyes and press them tight as if locking away the bittersweet memories, but I can't. I can't shy from the fact that I f****d another man… My bestie’s damn husband!
“Bree?” A voice calls from beside me, but I feel disconnected from reality.
I'm floating, my brain is cloudy.
I can still feel him next to me. The sleek tip of his slimy c**k. The way it pokes me when it breathes and shrinks… The stickiness of his c*m in between my pressed thighs…
God!
My guts twist, throat swells with bile. A wave of nostalgia hits me.
“Bree!”
“Huh?” I jump back to my senses and turn to face the voice. It's Ariana.
“You seem pretty distracted.” She curls her fingers around my hair and gently sniffs. “You smell good.”
More like I smell like s**t.
“I was asking, tea or coffee?” She repeats.
“I'm good.” I fake a smile. “Not hungry.”
Mark chuckles and adjusts upward, grazing his bare sweaty body against mine. It spikes my urge to throw up. I continuously gulp like a frog, holding everything in my stretched-out throat.
“Come on, Bree. Eat something at least.” He innocently nudges me, brushing his hard skin against mine.
I lost it.
The last control I had over my throat, snaps.
I throw my upper body to the other side of the bed and puke, messing up the floor with my ugly vomit. My naked breasts dangle beneath, jiggling with each impulsive movement.
“Easy.” Mark doesn't give up. His firm hand lies on my spine, sending chills all over.
I jerk away, shaky.
“It's fine, babe.” Ariana steps in. “Let me handle this.”
“Alright.” He kisses her and rolls to the other side of the bed. “Call me if you need anything.” He teases. “Anything.”
“Oh, Mark.” She cackles. “f**k away already.”
“Fine.” He groans and slaps the waistline of his slacks to his dirty body before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him.
I'm left with Ariana. I feel her eyes on my back, boring holes, but I'm not ready to confront her so I pretend to vomit still.
“Hey,” she adjusts closer, filling the space her husband left. “You’ll be fine, trust me.” She reaches out but stops. “f*****g hot d***s don't make you a bad wife.” She continues her sermon.
Wonder how I ended up here? Greg, my freaking husband. For the hundredth time, I caught him pants down with a lady I never knew existed until she had my husband’s balls bashing her wet cunt. ‘It’s just s*x, Bree.’ were his exact words. Too broken, I ran down to Ariana, and instead of the warm shoulders, she gave me spicy ones. Talked me into believing s*x shouldn't be tied to a man.
And I fell for it.
“It only takes one good d**k to hatch up,” she sighs.
“Never again.”
Her body bumps into me as she laughs. “Don't be so sure.” This time, she taps my back. “For now, freshen up and join us for dinner.” She changes the topic. “I’ll send a maid to clean up your room.”
I don't argue.
“Love you.” She presses a soft kiss on my hair and walks out.
‘It’s a mistake, Bree, no one has to know.’ I close my eyes and repeat soothing words. ‘You're the perfect daughter and wife…’
I throw the duvet over my head, as if suffocating myself. But it won't go away, not when the filth is thickly soaked all over my cunt and dripping down my thighs like lumps. I get out of bed and take a quick shower. I try not to look at the buttery cream of his c*m, how I scoop it off my body with my shaky fingers, and rinse off.
Guilt eats me deep. More than the raw pain in my skin as I scrub till my body is sore. After the torturous bath, I walked back into a now clean, fresh-smelling room.
“Bree?!” Ariana yells from downstairs.
I ignore Ariana and get dressed in my simple green A-shaped dress, pick up my bag, and walk downstairs.
“Speak of the devil.” She grins and pours out an extra cup of coffee. “I was betting that you’ll take a slice at least.”
“Really, I'm good. Besides, I have to go home.” I keep my distance.
Mark is digging into his food like he didn’t just f**k another woman in front of his wife. What the hell is going on with this couple? Am I the only normal person on earth?
“True.” She flips her watch. “Greg will soon be home.” She pushes her seat backward and walks me to the door. “How about you join us at a party, tomorrow night?”
“Uh… cocktail. Champagne…”
“Sex.” She smirks. “s*x party.”
My lips freeze.
“No.” The word blurts out. “Bye.” I hurry out of the house like it’s a death trap. My heart is beating hard against my chest even as I jump in my car and drive home.
A s*x party?
Sex is probably the drink and food and fun. The image of four heavy men dicking down a breathless lady makes me clench my thighs as if protecting my poor cunt.
“Watch out!”
The deafening horn of a van and the screams ahead of me force me to step on the brakes. My car recklessly swivels to another lane, slightly dodging the oncoming van. My tires screech to a loud halt, engine heated with thick smoke, my heart is pounding. I missed death by an inch.
Holy. Christ.
I place my hand on my chest and rest my head on the wheel.
“You should get a license before a car, you know.” An old lady groans.
“Fix your shit.” Another yells. “Are you okay?” Then another.
I manage a frozen smile and drive off. Thankfully, I arrive in one piece, and Greg isn’t home yet. I shove the madness at Ariana’s place at the back of my head and go about my chores. After three hectic hours, I tidy the house just as Greg likes it, fix him his favorite dinner… Maybe as compensation.
9 PM.
No sign of him.
I put him on dial multiple times, still no response. I can’t tell when I drift sleep, but the sound of his car driving in wakes me up.
In my tradition, I smooth out my favorite Kunfu panda night dress, run a hand over my well-laid black hair I spent hours stretching out and dying. “Darling, welcome.” I flash my perfect smile. “You must be tired.”
“No, I'm pissed.” He shrugs off his jacket and dumps it in my arms. “f**k Zack.” He flings the necktie backward, almost leaving me with a scar.
I smoothly dodge and grab it. Whenever he talks about Zack, it drives him crazy. If there’s a man who crumbles his fellow without repercussions, it’s him. A f*****g arrogant zillionaire, crushes the world like he owns it, and Greg happens to be his unfortunate victim…
A red stain on his collar draws my attention.
Not again.
“You f****d outside, again?” My legs are glued to the floor.
“Jesus, Bree.” He spins to face me, red with anger. “My empire is at the brink of collapse and all that bothers you is s*x?”
“I mean I—- I hoped we’d have our perfect marriage…”
“I still come home after a long day, and it isn’t enough?” He kicks off his shoes. “All my sacrifices to fix this goddamn home and you worry about some wet p***y being only good for a f*****g second?”
My heart bleeds. I blink, holding back tears.
This wasn’t the sacred vow we made on the altar.
This is certainly not the man I married five years ago.
“Guess what, I'm done, Bree.” He storms upstairs. “Fine. I want a divorce.”
Wait… WHAT?!
I want to speak, maybe plead… just say anything, but my lips are too heavy. Instead, I collapse on a couch and let his suit and tie fall out of my grip. Ideally, I’d clean after him like some cheap nanny.
Today, I'm broken. Devastated.
I need a shot of alcohol to clear my head, maybe two. Maybe I just need someone to lie to me, and Ariana is just it. I start typing on my phone, not caring at all. My eyes are flooded with tears.
‘I changed my mind, Ari. I'm in for the s*x party.’
- Writer
