quietly as she could. She’d noticed that our bedroom lights were out. She thought I was asleep.
I heard her come through the front door, and set about fixing a late-night meal. I guessed she got hungry after sleeping with her new lover. I gave her time to eat, however, I didn’t rush. She wouldn’t be hurrying, either. She wouldn’t be hopping into the shower, believing me to be sound asleep.
Finally, I heard the sound of the TV being switched on quietly. I assumed she’d finished with her meal. My heart was pounding now, threatening to burst its way out of my chest. I pulled myself out of bed, grabbed a bathrobe, crept as slowly as I could toward the bedroom door, avoiding all the known creaky floorboards.
Out of the bedroom, I paused at the top of our stairs. Our couch was empty. The clink of silverware against a china plate alerted me to her presence in the kitchen — I’d been inaccurate with my assumptions.
A floorboard creaked under my foot. She’d hear that. I’d wanted to wait until she was done with her food, but I couldn’t hold back now, she knew I was awake, probably knew I was coming downstairs.
She was washing her hands under the kitchen faucet as I walked down the steps, and wandered with feigned sleepiness toward her.
“Hey, honey! I thought you were asleep!” she said brightly, though as she turned to me, finishing up washing her hands, she seemed flustered.
Her cheeks and her upper chest were flushed, her hair a little mussed, her work clothes a little creased, perhaps. There was a slight sheen of perspiration over her forehead, and it dampened her hairline.
She looked absolutely gorgeous.
“Hey hon. Yeah. Couldn’t really sleep — thought I could, but, you know…”
I approached her, and it quietly amused me that she looked so startled — and guilty, it seemed to me.
“You want me to fix you something? A sandwich?” she said — attempting a distraction. Hoping I’d agree, then turn to slump down on the couch in front of the TV.
“No, I’m okay,” I said, continuing toward her.
I heard her catch her breath as I came to her, her mouth opening in surprise, her eyebrows lifting, her eyes opening wide.
I just went with the flow. My hand to her neck, my mouth to hers, kissing her lips, tasting her, breathing her in, pulling her to me. Her skin was hot and clammy with the hint of perspiration, and it made her lips taste slightly salty, not to mention the soft skin of her neck. Her perfume was sweet, strong —
But oh God, the scent of sex was so intense around her.
Diana kissed me back, seeming to melt into me as she grew in confidence, and started to believe I couldn’t tell she’d just slept with another man. She seemed quite plainly delighted as I pressed myself against her, and she could feel the hardness I was keeping in my PJs.
Goodness, had she used this sweet mouth on another man? Kissing his mouth, stretching her lips around his cock? I shivered involuntarily, though it didn’t repulse me — the thought of kissing her cheating mouth only turned me on more.
My hands reached around to her cute behind, spreading my fingers over the tight black material of her suit skirt, giving her a little squeeze as I pulled her to me. She broke off from our kiss, breathless.
“Let me… just… jump in the shower,” she pleaded, beaming from ear-to-ear at my craving for her.
I shook my head. “Don’t.”
For a few moments I just continued to kiss her, enjoying the unusual scent around her, the taste of her sweet mouth, pushing her long wavy blonde hair out of her face, holding her pretty face in my hands as I sucked on her lips.
Then my hands dropped to her breasts, teasing open her pure white shirt, slipping her flesh out of her bra, cupping her, touching her, beholding the faint stickiness of perspiration, my fingers nudging against her stiff nipples.
“What’s gotten into you?” she said with an excited grunion between kisses.
“I love you,” I said in reply,
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