Pretty Pu*sy | 18+

Prologue

I moan as my back arches and my p***y throbs around his c**k. He pumps into me in the most delicious way and moans as I clench around him. His smooth palm glides over my upper half, eliciting another moan when they tweak my n*****s. My n*****s aren't my favorite part of my body. They're small, almost non-existent when they aren't pebbled and my breasts in general are small, but I love having them sucked. As if sensing my thoughts, he pushes his forearm under me and pulls my breast to his awaiting mouth, with which he suckles and nibbles on the sensitive skin and repeats on the other, soon after.

The sound of a door opening and closing downstairs alerts me of his wife's arrival and I wish she'd never come, even if her being there makes my p***y throb harder. This is my favorite part; the almost getting caught. I think he likes it too. All things forbidden have always intrigued me. I'd like to believe that there's nothing you can't have in this world. It's like that line all adults tell their kids; you can have anything if you put your mind to it. I don't think this is why they say that, but it works in my favor.

This man has been the object of my obsessions for an entire week and a half. I met him at brunch where my best friends', Kate and Eddie's, dad was hosting possible investments and charity donations with some colleagues. This beautiful man showed up with what, at the time, I thought was arm candy, but no, it was his gorgeous wife. I don't get why he's cheating. I would never cheat on her. She owns a business that is progressing slowly, but surely, and she is a curvy goddess. Sometimes I wonder why men just can't be satisfied.

Heels clicking on the stairs alerts him of his wife, and he hesitates just a little bit, but that is my cue to take over, so I push him back, and he lands on his office chair. I quickly straddle him and start bouncing the way I know he likes it. He clenches his jaw to keep from making sounds and I place my forehead on his shoulder, breathing hard and softly moaning.

A knock on the door causes his fingers to dig into my hips and I bite his shoulder to hide my moan at how good it feels. It's going to bruise. I love it when I'm bruised. I love being bruised. I don't mean violently, like I enjoy fighting, I mean it in a possessive way. I like to be marked by men, even if I'm not theirs. Plus, it gets other men angry when they see them and the urge to be better than my last makes them be rougher and harder.

"Honey? Are you busy?" With that, I lift my head and hold eye contact with him while burying him in me and grinding down to increase the pleasure.

"Yes sweetheart, I am busy." He replies after taking a deep breath, attempting to look away from my eyes. I grab his chin and turn it back to me as I dive down to kiss his plump, peach lips. Lips have always been one of my favorite things on a man, after his d**k. The mouth, in general, on anyone, makes me crazy. I love biting lips and sucking tongues. Plus, mouths can sometimes be better than d***s. I mean, they eat p***y, they suck titties and they even eat ass if that's what you're into. Now that I think about it, I've never gotten my ass eaten. I should add that to my never-ending list of potential s****l escapades.

"Maybe you should take a break?" I deepen the kiss and he groans quietly as his hands move to my ass. He grinds into me harder, and his tip touches the place that has me throwing my head back and moaning. Moaning loudly.

"Michael, what the f*ck is going on in there?" The wife, Cecilia, I think, yells as she starts banging the door. I know this is where most people would stop but I am not most people so I continue, not bothering to cover my mouth anymore.

His breathing starts to turn erratic and I clench around him when I feel his c**k thickening. I knew it, he loves almost getting caught. Well, apparently, he loves actually getting caught too. With the sound of her banging on the door and yelling things I don't care to listen to, Michael grabs my hips and holds me in place as he thrusts his c**k into my c*nt. He touches my g-spot over and over, and my moans echo throughout the room. As one leaves my lips another sounds right behind it. My moans mix with his delicious grunts and I start to clench around him, uncontrollably.

"Just like that baby," he groans and I whimper at the sound.

"Michael!? What the f*ck are you doing!?" I'm honestly surprised she's still there. If I were her I'd take his best car, grab my stuff and leave, but I guess that's just me. I'd probably also take his expensive jewelry and pawn my wedding ring.

I'm a little surprised Michael hasn't stopped, but I soon realize why, when I hear him groan, croakily, and I feel his come filling me up. At that feeling, I c*m with a deep whimper.

Michael collapses on the chair, but helps me ride down the high. I rest my forehead on his and he kisses my lips.

The door to the office open's and in comes Cecilia, his wife. She looks at us both; observing our lack of clothes and analyzing the position we're in. She's red with anger and I think about the fact that when I'm angry, my face doesn't get red because of my skin color. Not a thought I should be having right now, but it just popped up in my head.

As if snapping out of it, Michael lifts me off of his d**k and places me to stand. He then looks at his wife then at me and sighs,

"Go home Vixen."

I nod my head and start to gather my clothes. Cecilia snorts and looks at me like I ruined her marriage, which I didn't; Michael did.

"Go home Vixen," she mocks.

"Go home Vixen!?" she yells, repeating, while staring at him as he calmly redresses. She then turns to look at me and points her finger saying,

"You aren't going anywhere! I'm going to call the police!"

"Why the f*ck will you call the police?"

"Look at her Michael, she's like sixteen! You're going to jail for this."

"She is not sixteen. She's nineteen. She'll be twenty in a couple days."

"Well-" she stutters.

"She's still a worthless wh*re! Going after a married man!" Her words hurt a part of me I refuse to acknowledge and in a way, I hate that I don't regret sleeping with her husband. I'm not going to say she should be grateful, but at least I gave her a heads up as to what kind of husband she has because I'm sure she had no idea.

The part about being a wh*re doesn't matter to me. The part about going after a married man causes me slight shame, although I would never show it.

"I may have come on to your husband, but he reciprocated, so don't blame me." I say to her as I finish getting dressed and walk past her out the door, down the stairs and out of that house.