Creamy globules decorate my thighs, clinging jelly-like to skin as they resist gravities urge to descend helter-skelter towards impeccably shod feet.

Leaning across her sedentary form my tongue pries lips apart and dances in her dribbling cavity of desire.

Furious public blushing ensues as she struggles, trapped betwixt propriety and lust.

She tastes of cappuccino; fevered froth and the bitter pleasure of infidelity.

And what of me?

Might she recognise the masculine tang of sweat, salt and cheddary undertones that screams 'well-sucked cock'?

Maybe she'll have an epiphany later when lapping her hubby's copious cum from my oozing cunt.

Maybe.