Dan and Kelly had gotten together two or three times since that lazy Sunday afternoon, the last time just around Thanksgiving. Since then, he had not heard a word from her.

Dan rarely if ever called her. He was cognizant that an ill-timed phone call might be noticed by her husband and create an uncomfortable situation. Instead, she usually called him, and usually did so within a few weeks after their last get-together, almost as though she was in search of a fix. But it had now been several months since he’d last heard from her.

As December came and went, he figured that the holiday season had tied her up, and he let it go. But when late January rolled around and turned to February, and he still had not heard from her, he tried her cell phone. Getting her voicemail, he left a message, and then another a month or so later. A third attempt, made in late March, informed Dan that her number was no longer working. 'Maybe,' he thought, ‘she found religion.'

She did, in a way.

In May, Dan got a call from Dave Jacobs. Dave had gone to USC with Dan, Marc, and Ryan, but had never really socialized much with them back in Chicago. He was engaged to be married this summer and spent most of his time with his fiancé and her friends. When Dave called, he suggested that he and Dan get together for drinks after work on the upcoming Thursday, and Dan readily agreed, just to catch up with his old friend.

When Thursday came around, Dan left his office in the Loop and took an Uber up to Lottie’s in Bucktown. He found Dave at a table talking to a guy who was vaguely familiar. He approached the table and Dave looked up.

"Dan, what's up?" he said, extending his hand. "It's been a long time."

"Too long, my friend. How's everything?"

"Not bad, not bad.”  He gestured toward his friend. “This is Mike. Mike, this is Dan. Mike and I used to work together before I left the meat grinder."

Dan's throat constricted upon realizing why he recognized the guy. He'd seen him at a charity event late last summer. He'd seen pictures of him in his bedroom, his home office, in the house he shared with his adulterous wife. Those pictures had looked down upon Dan when his cock was buried in this man’s wife’s dripping bald cunt, ensconced in her wet mouth, her shiny lips leaving trails of saliva along his shaft or trapped between her massive tits, her wedding and engagement rings hovering inches from his engorged cock.

"Good to meet you, Mike." Dan extended his hand, which Mike accepted.

"You, too." Turning back to Dave, Mike continued, "I gotta run, Dave. Good to catch up with you. See you at the wedding." Mike MacGuire said his goodbyes and departed.

His chest still pounding, Dan took a seat and ordered an Anti-Hero. His heart rate had returned to normal by the time it arrived.

"Jesus," Dave said. "I feel sorry for that guy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dave took a sip from his beer. “Long story but bottom line? A few months ago, he came home from a business trip. Found his wife in bed. She was alone, but it was obvious that someone else had been there before him.”

"Jesus Christ," Dan muttered. "That sucks."

"No shit. And apparently, this was not the first time. I guess she confessed that she’d been fucking around on him their entire relationship."

Dan just shook his head, knowing full well the depths of depravity that Kelly had fallen into during the course of her marriage. "So what did he do?" he finally asked.

"Kicked her out," Dave continued, taking another pull from his beer. "He filed for divorce, got temporary custody of their daughter. He thinks the divorce should be pretty quick. She admitted all of it in an e-mail she sent him."

Dan nodded. "When did all this shit go down?"

"Right before Christmas, I guess. Merry fuckin' Christmas, huh?" Dave quipped, downing the rest of his beer.

Dan and Dave stayed at Lottie’s for a few hours, catching up on their lives. Around 9:00 they parted ways, and Dan made his way home. He took a shower and hit the couch to watch ESPN for a while before going to bed. But he wasn’t really paying attention, his mind focused on Kelly and what become of her.

He felt sorry for her, in a way. Not that she didn't deserve what had happened. She was completely faithless and blatant in the way she trampled her wedding vows. Still, her one flaw – a complete lack of sexual morals – was a major one, and it seemed to have finally caught up with her, wrecking her family in the process.

Introspectively, Dan felt an almost suffocating guilt for his part in Kelly's downfall, and that of her family. Certainly, he could rationalize away his role in the process. It wasn't like he led her astray. By her own admission, she had been cheating on Mike since the day they started dating. And it was Kelly that started the ball rolling that summer night that seemed so long ago when she and Dan shared a cab from Bucktown to Lincoln Park.

And even had he repelled her advances that night, Dan knew that she would not have remained faithful. Kelly MacGuire, as innocent and beautiful as she appeared, was a slut. Married or not, she would have willingly spread her legs and admitted almost any man, no matter his age, race, color, or creed. Dan was merely a tool to her, and if he hadn't obliged her, someone else would have. But it had finally caught up with her, and she was presumably on her own now.

Dan turned the television off, grabbed his phone, and padded into his bedroom, his mind on the big question:  how?

***

There was a girl named Donna. She was one of Kelly's best friends from high school. Donna lived in New York City with her fiancé and was getting married in Palm Beach just after New Year's Day. A few Saturdays before Christmas, Donna and some of her New York friends flew into Chicago for the weekend for her bachelorette party.

Lisa, Kelly's maid-of-honor and part of Donna’s inner circle, made all the arrangements for the party. She rented Lazy Bird, a hip lounge in the basement of The Hoxton in the West Loop, for a few hours, and sent invitations to thirty or so girls. Even compared to Donna's permissive nature, Lisa was a wild woman, so it was no surprise to anyone that Lisa had arranged for some male entertainment to appear toward the end of the party.

That Friday morning, Mike called his wife and told her that he would not be home from his business trip that afternoon. Some issues had arisen with his client that would keep him in Denver, but he’d be home Sunday night.

Kelly groaned on hearing the news. She was counting on his return so he could take care of their daughter Saturday night while she was with the girls. She called her mother only to learn that she and Kelly’s father had a dinner party to attend. A few other options didn’t work out. Finally, she called Esmerelda, who agreed to come over for the evening.

She arrived Saturday afternoon around 4:00. While Kelly was getting ready for the evening, the nanny played with her daughter and did a little cleaning around the house. She had just finished with the kitchen when she heard Mrs. MacGuire's heels on the stairway, descending from the second floor. She left the kitchen and met Kelly in the living room at the front of the house.

Kelly was standing before a vanity mirror, her slender fingers holding a tube of red lip gloss, smearing it across her lips. Esmerelda took in the sight of her boss. She stood atop four-inch heels. Her lean legs, hips, and butt were squeezed into snug red leather pants. As she leaned toward the mirror, applying the lip gloss, a simple diamond pendant swung from her elegant neck. Her large breasts hung from her chest, covered by a white tank top.

Kelly slipped the lip gloss into a handbag and reached for a black leather jacket that was resting on the table below the mirror. As she slipped her arms into the coat and pulled it closed over her chest, Esmeralda caught a glimpse of the printing on the front of Kelly's tank top: "Yes…They’re Real," it read.

'Puta,’ the nanny thought. ‘How can a respectable mother dress like that?'

"All right, Esmerelda. I'm off," she announced, turning toward the door. "I might be late, but should be home by one or two, at the latest."

"Yes, Mrs. MacGuire."

"Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will, Mrs. MacGuire," Esmerelda said to the door that had already shut. She simply rolled her eyes.

Esmerelda had begun wondering about the lady of the house these last few months. She often disappeared during the middle of the day, saying she was going shopping. But almost without exception, Mrs. MacGuire returned with no shopping bags, no clothes or groceries or anything. And increasingly, Mrs. MacGuire had been asking her to watch her daughter on weeknights when Mr. MacGuire was out-of-town. She would return home around midnight, alcohol on her breath, her hair in disarray, and her clothes wrinkled and disheveled.

Esmerelda was not an educated woman, but any fool could see that something was going on. The pretty Mrs. MacGuire was running around on her husband. 'Puta,' Esmerelda thought again, before putting a DVD on for the entertainment of the whore’s daughter.

Outside her walk-up, her handbag slung over her shoulder, Kelly climbed into the Uber she’d ordered and settled in for the ride to the West Loop.

She had arrived somewhere in the middle of the pack. She found ten or twelve girls at the bar or sitting at tables. The more reserved ones were sipping chardonnay, comparing notes on their weddings, their husbands and, for a few, their children. The rough-and-tumble ones drank from beer bottles or downed vodka or gin, mixed with soda.

Kelly threw her coat over an empty chair and ordered a vodka and soda from the bartender, whose eyes lingered too long on her jutting breasts before meeting her eyes. Drink in manicured hand, Kelly found Donna and gave her a big hug. They spent a few minutes catching up, and Donna introduced Kelly to her friends from New York.

More girls continued to arrive and Kelly mingled with them, greeting those she hadn't seen in a while with hugs and platonic kisses. After a while, the wait staff brought down several large plates of food. Kelly placed a few finger sandwiches on a plate and joined Donna's New York friends at a table. "Are you girls enjoying Chicago?" she asked.

"Fun so far," one of them said. "But we can't wait for the real fun to start. Donna told me that her maid-of-honor – what's her name, Lisa? – that Lisa hired a few male strippers."

"I heard that, too," Kelly responded, laughing. "Should be interesting. What time are they coming?" she asked, swallowing a bite of food.

"I don't know. Soon, I think. I think we have the basement only until eleven."

Kelly looked at her watch. It was 9:30.

"By the way, I love your top, Kelly."

"Thanks. It's my fun top. It's just a tease."

"I'll bet," one of the girls responded, laughing. "Where'd you get it?"

"Found it online. I thought it'd be fun to where once in a while," Kelly responded. The truth was, she had half a dozen such tops, all of them shoved in the corner of her closet.

Light conversation among the group continued for a bit, when one of the New York girls asked, "So, Kelly…you’re a local. Any good ideas for where we can go later tonight?"

"Of course. Kinda depends on what kind of scene you’re looking for. Dance clubs, hole-in-the-walls, anything in between." Kelly looked over toward Donna. "No matter where we go, I don't think she'll be joining us, though. She looks pretty wasted."

They all looked over at Donna and laughed; she was swaying slightly, a champagne glass dangling from one hand; her eyes were slightly hooded. "No problem," one of the girls said. "You lead the way, Kelly, and we'll follow."

The girls finished their dinner, and their plates were cleared away. As they refreshed their drinks, the entertainment arrived. Kelly saw a heavily muscled police officer coming down the stairs and laughed. 'How typical,' she thought. The first officer was followed by a second, equally built, cop. Laughing, she leaned across the bar toward Lisa, and yelled over the din of twenty-five gabbing women, "Nice job, Lisa. You couldn't have picked something more cliché."

Lisa laughed back, and said, "Yeah, but who cares, as long as they lose those uniforms."

Kelly raised her glass in a mock toast and turned to watch the entertainment set up.

The male strippers cleared an area at one end of the space and created a circle with enough chairs for each woman to have one. The screech of a traffic whistle brought the girls to their chairs, and the show began.

It was typical of cheesy strip shows. The cops ripped off their uniforms as they placed Donna "under arrest." Kelly merely rolled her eyes, but as they rubbed their near-naked bodies against her friend, she felt her already thick nipples harden and shuffled her thighs.

The strippers did their thing with Donna, and then parted and moved about the room, rubbing their oiled bodies against the other women. The shy and reserved ones blushed and kept their hands at their sides. The wild ones laughed and yelled and rubbed their hands across slick chests and spanked oily ass cheeks. The even bolder ones discreetly rubbed the exterior of tiger-print thongs that housed thick cocks that strained to be let loose.

By the time one of the strippers found Kelly, she had already downed four or five drinks. Her mind was clouded with growing lust. She took a pull of a vodka-and-soda as the stripper shimmied his way toward her.

Marcos saw the gleam in Kelly's bright blue eyes as he approached her. Her distended nipples were evident, and he tilted his head to read the writing on her tank top, which was slightly distorted due to her generous breasts. Kelly watched his eyes move and saw his face light up in a broad, leering smile.

He straddled her lap and rolled his hips, his covered cock close to her face, the immense heat of it burning into her thigh. Kelly laughed as the girls around her yelled and hooted and cheered her on. Marcos squatted so that his thong-covered cock rested against her belly, and Kelly took the opportunity to grab his ass and pull him into her. She felt the thick cock press against her stomach as those around her roared. Her nipples stiffened further, and her pussy roiled with the contact.

But almost as soon as it began, Marcos moved on to the next girl. Kelly downed the rest of her drink and went to the bar for a refill. She again took her seat as the strip show continued. After about an hour, the strippers wound down their show, and donned their 'uniforms.' Kelly, now on her sixth or seventh drink, returned to the bar, grabbed a napkin and a pen from the bartender, and scribbled a note on it.

As Marcos bent over picking up five- and ten-dollar bills from the floor, Kelly approached him, drink gripped between the manicured fingers of one hand, the folded napkin in the other. From his kneeling position, Marcos looked up into the sparkling eyes of Kelly MacGuire, her hip cocked to one side. With a sultry smile on her face, she let the napkin fall from his fingers and it floated to the floor right before him.

As he picked it up, he looked at her inquiringly. "It's for you," she said in a throaty voice. "Not for the other one…just for you."

Marcos smiled and slid the napkin into his pocket without opening it.

She turned on her heel and walked away, joining the New York girls at the bar. "Ready, ladies?"

"Let's go!"

Donna was about to pass out and Lisa offered to take her home. Some of the other girls were going home, too, or meeting boyfriends or husbands at different bars. Kelly and Donna's friends from New York left Lazy Bird.  Earlier, after asking some of them what kind of scene they wanted, Kelly had decided on something simple: Gibson’s. An Uber was waiting for them at the curb and they climbed in.

Marcos and his companion finished cleaning up, and they, too, left. They were done for the night and parted on the sidewalk outside the hotel. Marcos walked a few blocks north, found his car, and drove home. When he entered his apartment, he emptied his pockets and dropped the contents on his kitchen counter. As change and keys clattered on the cheap Formica, he spied the napkin. Lifting it, he unfolded it and read the neatly printed message:

"Please call me." It was followed by a telephone number.

He grunted and shook his head, tossing the napkin aside.

Kelly and the girls had no problem getting into Gibson’s despite the bar being crowded. Once inside, Kelly wedged her way to the bar and ordered drinks for everyone. Two older gentlemen at a high-top table invited the girls to join them, and they agreed, if only for the seats.

An hour and a half later, and with a few more drinks coursing through Kelly's bloodstream, Donna's friends announced that they were done for the night. They thanked their hosts and got up to leave. Kelly, too, was rather drunk and left with them. On the sidewalk, the newfound friends all hugged each other and waited for their respective Ubers to arrive. The other girls’ car arrived first and they said their goodbyes to Kelly.

Before Kelly’s car arrived, her cell phone chirped from inside her handbag. She pulled it out and looked at the screen, but didn't recognize the number. Shaking her lustrous blond hair from her face, she hit "Send" and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"This is me calling you," she heard from the earpiece.

Kelly's heart skipped a beat, and a smile slowly formed on her plump lips. Adjusting the bag on her shoulder and moving the phone to her other ear, she slurred, "Where are you?"

"Where are you?"

"Gibson’s. Wanna meet me here? Have a drink with me?"

"Is that what you really want?” he asked. “To have a drink with me?"

Kelly closed her eyes, and her nipples throbbed. She moved away from the doorman and the valets. "No.”

“No…I didn’t think so.” He paused. “So what is it you want?”

Kelly bit her lower lip. She looked around her. No one was close so she turned her attention back to the phone. “I wanna fuck.”

Marcos laughed softly. “At Gibson’s?”

Kelly groaned. “No…not at Gibson’s.”

“Mmhm. So where? Where do you wanna fuck?”

She paused, fiddling with the zipper on her leather coat. “In my bed."

Marcos merely laughed. "Will your husband be there?"

"No. He's away."

"Good. No one likes a husband who lets his wife fuck other guys."

"Well, my husband doesn't let me do anything. I do what I want."

"And what do you want tonight?"

Kelly's pussy simmered and she began to fidget, shuffling her feet. "I wanna feel what I felt earlier. But I want to feel it inside me." Her bright blue eyes shifted back and forth again, making sure no one was listening. “Fucking me.”

"I've run across your type before…the slutty little housewife. Is that what you are?"

"Yesss." Kelly almost hissed her response. She was not even near this man right now, but she was immensely turned on. A trickle of fluid leaked from her pussy and threatened to run down her leg, but her skin-tight pants caught it, left it there to soak her thong.

"What's your name?"

"Kelly," she whispered.

"Your last name, Kelly. I don't care about your first name."

"MacGuire, Kelly MacGuire." The phone trembled in her hand. Her pink tongue swiped across her shiny red lips.

"What's your address, Mrs. MacGuire?"

"Oh, god," she muttered.

"If you want my cock drilling into your married cunt, you'll tell me your address, Mrs. MacGuire." His voice was calm and measured.

Her address tumbled over her lips, and the connection went dead. He had hung up on her. Regaining her senses, Kelly checked the Uber app, realizing that her ride had been sitting at the corner for the last few minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, the Uber came to a stop in front of her walk-up. Marcos was sitting on the steps that led up to the front door. As she stumbled from the car, Kelly noticed him and stopped short. He had changed into street clothes, a tight white tee shirt underneath a black leather coat. Below his waist, he wore tight jeans and motorcycle boots. He rose as Kelly approached.

"Hi, Mrs. MacGuire.”

"Hi to yourself," she responded. She stood facing him. "You gonna tell me your name?"

"Does it matter?" The confidence was evident in his tone.

Kelly paused a moment. "Not really."

Marcos merely shrugged his shoulders, stood, and turned to walk up the steps to the front door. Kelly caught up with him and keyed the door open.

Esmerelda had fallen asleep on a couch in the living room but instantly awoke when she heard the front door open and Kelly's heels click-clack on the hardwood floors. She quickly sat up from her sleeping position. "Hello, Mrs. MacGuire…" Her voice fell off as she saw the strange man enter behind the lady of the house. "Is everything all right, Mrs. MacGuire?"

"Of course, it is, Esmerelda," she responded, dropping her handbag on the vanity table and removing her coat, draping it over the stair rail. Marcos remained in the entryway. "Thanks for staying late. You can go now." Kelly looked over her shoulder at Marcos.

"Uh, are you sure everything is all right, ma'am? I can stay and watch Evelyn if something is the matter." As she spoke, Esmerelda's eyes shifted back and forth between Kelly and Marcos.

"That's okay. I have everything under control."

Esmerelda rose from the couch and crossed the living room to retrieve her purse and bulky overcoat. Marcos moved out of the entryway to allow her to leave. She paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked back at Kelly, the obvious question in her eyes.

"Really, Esmerelda. Have a good night."

As soon as the door shut behind the nanny, Kelly pulled Marcos into her tight body. One of her hands wrapped behind his head, pulling it down to her face, her nails scraping against his scalp. Her shiny red lips parted and she sank her wet, pink tongue into Marcos' mouth. His large hands roughly grabbed her hips, jamming her pussy against his thigh, and Kelly moaned into his mouth.

Outside on the sidewalk, Esmerelda looked back at the walk-up. Though the shades were drawn on the front windows, she saw the silhouette of two bodies meeting and embracing. "Puta," she muttered, walking away.

Inside, Kelly’s tongue was still buried in Marcos' mouth. She pulled away from him and walked toward the staircase, beckoning him with a bright red nail to follow. "Upstairs. Let's go," she demanded.

He complied, of course, and followed the woman up the stairs. As they ascended the stairs, Kelly's firm bottom swayed from side to side right in front of Marcos' face. He wound up and gave her a playful slap on the ass. The contact startled her, and she stumbled a little on the last step, shooting Marcos a warning glance over her shoulder. "Ssshhh," she hissed. Whispering, she continued, "My daughter's bedroom is right here." She paused as she passed a bedroom at the top of the stairs, and quietly pulled the door shut.

As they entered the master bedroom, Kelly flicked on a bedside lamp. She moved to the foot of the bed and turned to face Marcos, who stood in the doorway. Her eyes were smoldering, and Marcos was left with the distinct impression that Mrs. MacGuire was not a flirt on her first one-night stand. Her confidence and relaxed nature reflected that she had been here before, in similar circumstances.

Closing the door behind him and nodding his head toward her, Marcos said, "They don't look real, Mrs. MacGuire. In fact, they look like they've been bolted onto your chest."

Kelly crossed her arms beneath her bulging tits, lifting them and distorting the provocative words emblazoned across her chest. "Why don't you find out?"

Marcos took three quick strides across the room and without really stopping pushed Kelly back on the bed. She landed on her back and bounced a few times on the mattress. Marcos followed her down, straddling her trim hips. From her submissive position, Kelly watched as two large hands grasped the neckline of her tank top and ripped it down the middle, leaving the top in tatters. Reaching beneath her back, he found the clasp to her bra and released it, pushing the thing aside and exposing her distended nipples.

Kelly's eyes closed and she moaned at the rough treatment. Coarse hands cupped her heaving breasts, pushing them together to form a deep cleavage. When Marcos leaned down and took a thick nipple between his lips, one of Kelly's hands clamped behind his head, pulling him tight against her. He sucked hard on her nipple, drawing it between his scraping teeth, before moving to the other nipple. Kelly grunted and squirmed beneath him.

"Told you they were real," she breathed after a few minutes of Marcos nipping at her teats.

"Shut up," he replied, releasing a nipple from between his teeth. He let her tits fall from his grasp, watching as they wobbled atop her chest. He moved down her body and roughly pulled the button of her pants loose, nearly tearing the zipper down. Without waiting for Kelly to raise her hips, he aggressively pulled the tight pants over her trim hips and down her lithe legs.

He flicked the heels off her dainty feet and heard them clatter to the hardwood floor. Pulling the pants over her feet, Marcos threw them behind him. They landed atop a dresser, toppling a framed picture of Kelly and Mike on their wedding day. Both Marcos and Kelly heard the frame crash to the floor, the glass shattering, but neither paid it any attention.

Like her slutty tank top, Kelly's thong didn't stand a chance against Marcos' savagery. He ripped it from her waist and Kelly winced when one of the leg bands cut into her skin. Marcos tossed the thong over his shoulder, where it fluttered to the floor in a shredded state.

He wasted no time before burying his face between Kelly's legs. There was no foreplay, no romance. Instead, Marcos' tongue went right for its goal: Mrs. MacGuire's bald pussy. It fluttered through her labia and burrowed into her cunt. "Oh, God," he heard her moan when his tongue invaded her. As it slipped between her lips, Marcos tasted the sweet tanginess of Kelly's cunt. He collected the wetness on his tongue and withdrew it, sliding it up and down the cheating wife's hairless slit, lubricating her.

He moved his head up and captured Kelly's engorged clit between his lips, and sucked. Kelly's hands shot behind Marcos' head, pulling his face tighter against her leaking cunt. "Nnnghnn.”

As his tongue roamed over and around Kelly's swollen clit, Marcos slipped his hands under her legs and brought them around to rest on her stomach. Opening his eyes and looking up Mrs. MacGuire's body, Marcos was able to see her beautiful face, framed by her mountainous tits. Kelly's eyes were screwed tightly shut, and her tongue occasionally darted out to lick her shiny red lips.

When Marcos sucked her clit between his teeth, roughly scraping the sensitive nub, Kelly's soft lips opened in a silent scream, and she bucked her hips into Marcos’s face. He managed to hold her relatively steady as he continued the assault on the cheating pussy. Her clit trapped securely between his lips and teeth, Marcos shook his head back and forth, like a dog with a bone.

Kelly's poor clit couldn't take anymore. Her hands fell from the back of Marcos' head to the comforter that covered the bed, grasping it tightly, her knuckles blanched white. Her firm ass rose from the mattress, slamming her cunt into Marcos' face as an orgasm slammed into her.

"Nnnghnnn," she moaned, her head lolling back and forth. Her hair, damp with perspiration, stuck to her face, masking her features. Marcos refused to release Kelly's clit from his mouth, and her body trembled as she rode through her orgasm.

As Kelly came down, Marcos released her clit from his mouth and quickly got up. He started pulling the comforter off the bed, pulling Kelly with it in the process. She rolled to one side and the comforter and the top sheet were dumped on the floor. Marcos climbed back on the bed and rolled Kelly onto her stomach. With his knees, he coaxed her legs apart, and slipped a hand over her the tight cheeks of her ass, feeling for her sopping cunt.

"Feel better now, slut?" he taunted the married woman, two fingers sliding through her sodden folds, occasionally grazing over her clit.

"Yeah," Kelly muttered. Her face was pushed into the mattress, muffling her voice. Perspiration shone across her back. With Marcos' manipulation of her clit, her hips rolled in a sensual wave. Her breathing remained labored. When Marcos increased the pressure on her clit, spreading her wetness over the engorged bud, her breath hitched and he watched as her manicured fingers gripped the headboard, squeezing tight.

"What a treat you are, Mrs. MacGuire," he intoned, almost in a whisper. "Such a fun little slut, though I suppose the writing across your chest was a dead giveaway, huh?"

"Uhh-uhh," Kelly barely got out.

Marcos grunted at the sight below him. This married tramp was laid out before him, her tanned legs spread, allowing him access to her overheated pussy. Her tight ass stared him in the face, and her gargantuan tits – yes, they're real – squished out from beneath her chest. Her dirty blond hair, damp with sweat, was in complete disarray. Above her head, her hands fiercely grasped the headboard, her wedding and engagement rings sparkling in the light cast from a bedside lamp. Marcos' cock throbbed in his tight jeans.

"Stay right where you are, Mrs. MacGuire," he demanded, hopping off the bed. Marcos kicked off his boots, shed his jeans and boxers, and pulled his shirt over his head. When he got back on the bed, he positioned himself between Kelly's wide-spread legs and slapped one of her ass cheeks, then the other.

"Mmmmm," he heard her moan.

He was about to brace himself above her body and run his cock along the slick folds of Kelly's cunt, but he paused. "Oh, Mrs. MacGuire likes being spanked?"

"Mmm-hmm," she responded.

Marcos spanked her again and heard a sharp intake of breath. Placing his hands by her shoulders, he hovered over Kelly's prone body and his thick cock dangled right above her upturned ass. He moved down a little and dragged the tip of his cock up the crevice of Kelly's firm ass, stopping when it reached the apex. Dragging the cockhead back down, Kelly squirmed beneath him.

"Whaddya want, Mrs. MacGuire?" he taunted as his cockhead nuzzled through her slick folds, the wet heat of her cunt lips beckoning him.

"Inside me," she answered in a muffled voice, her face still buried in the bed sheet.

"What? I can't hear you," he teased.

Kelly pulled her face from the mattress and looked over her shoulder at him. With her left hand, she brushed the hair away from her face, diamonds glittering. "Fuck it…fuck my cunt!"

Marcos allowed his cock to drop a little further, and it slid along the furrow of Kelly's slit, gathering lubrication as it went.

"You sure, Mrs. MacGuire? You sure you want my cock in your married hole?" he continued to tease.

Kelly's head fell back to the mattress, but she managed to respond with a hiss, "Yesss…fuck me! Please, fuck me!"

"I don't have any rubbers, Mrs. MacGuire.”

"Don’t…care," she muttered, her hips rocking urgently, trying to coax Marcos' cock into her depths.

"You on the pill, Mrs. MacGuire?"

"No, goddammit!" she almost yelled. "Just…God…just fuck me! I don't care about rubbers or the pill!" she pleaded.

Marcos adjusted his angle and pushed forward, the thick head of his cock parting Kelly's saturated labia and slithering into her overheating hole. Instead of pulling back, Marcos continued to push his shaft into the tight, bald cunt. He pushed slowly but firmly, pulling her cunt lips in with him.

Kelly breathed heavily, her grip on the headboard fierce.  "Stop!" she spat. "Jesus, pull out, please. Pull out, and then try to push in." Her voice was pleading, whining.

Marcos halted his assault and slowly pulled the length of his shaft from her dripping hole. But as soon as he felt the head about to pop out, he again pushed in, viciously this time. The first several inches of his shaft were already lubricated and easily slipped into Kelly's unprotected cunt. The remaining length stretched her walls. Marcos's pelvic bone crashed against Kelly's ass and ripples rolled along her exquisite ass cheeks.

"Fuck," she groaned at the invasion. "Ohmigod!"

Marcos again pulled back, but fully lubricated now, he started hammering the slippery cunt in a quick, steady rhythm. He lowered his body so that he was laying along Kelly's back. His hands, no longer holding him up, slipped beneath her body and reached for her squished tits. He mauled them, squeezing roughly, feeling the flesh ooze between his fingers. So close to Kelly's face, he could hear her uneven breathing, could see the sweat collecting at the nape of her neck.  Marcos found her nipples, and he rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers.

A heavy groan gurgled in Kelly's throat and her head rolled. "Yesss," she hissed. "Pinch them…harder!”

Marcos tried to comply with the woman’s demands, but it was awkward with his hands trapped beneath her quivering body. Still pounding at her adulterous cunt, he slipped his hands out from under her, and pulled her arms closer to their faces; the bed sheet came with them, ripped from the top of the mattress. Marcos' left hand reached out and grabbed her left hand, toying with the rings on her finger.

"Big diamond," he grunted in her ear, his tongue licking the earlobe, hot breath caressing her inner ear.

Kelly jammed her ass back against Marcos' invading shaft. "Big cock."

"Husband buy this for you?" he whispered.

Her eyes eased open, and she watched Marcos fiddle with her engagement ring. Shivers coursed up Kelly's spine. "Yeah," she managed to grunt out, her eyes fixated on Marcos's toying fingers.

"He know you're getting fucked?"

Kelly didn't respond, but merely shook her head.

"He know what he married?"

Kelly groaned and her body shuddered at the degradation. "No," she whimpered.

"Married a whore, didn’t he?" Marcos continued to taunt.

Kelly again slammed her hips back against Marcos' thick cock. "What…do…you…think?" she managed to groan with each backward thrust.

"I think," Marcos began, still in a whisper, but with growing volume as his cock battered into Kelly's cunt, "that you…are a filthy…fucking…slut…. That's…what…I..think!"

Beneath him, Kelly trembled violently.

"You like it…when I call you…a whore.”

Kelly let out a long, guttural groan.  It wasn’t a question, but she managed a nod anyway as the fat cock pummeled her cunt.

"Do you want me…to call you Kelly…or Mrs. MacGuire?" Marcos asked the cheating whore.

"Mrs…MacGuire," Kelly grunted from beneath him.

"Tell me why."

"Because," she groaned, as Marcos shoved his cock in her to the root, preventing her from finishing the thought. "Because it reminds me…that I'm…a filthy…fuckin'…wife…and that I shouldn't…be doing…this."

Marcos pushed himself up into a kneeling position behind the housewife, his cock still snug in her overheated cunt. Grabbing onto her hips, he increased the pace of his fucking, and watched with satisfaction as Kelly's ass cheeks rippled with the onslaught.

Her hands once again gripped the bed sheet, pulling it further off the mattress corners. "Nnnnghn, f-f-fuck," she moaned, head thrashing from side to side, hair whipping back and forth. "Ohmigod…you fuck…me…soooo…fuckin'…hard." She could barely manage to string two words together.

Marcos brought a hand back and spanked Kelly hard on the ass. Her body convulsed at the slap, spurned on by the wickedness of being laid prone on her marital bed, her ass being slapped by a stranger as his thick cock buried itself in the cunt she had pledged to her husband.

Marcos looked down and saw a bright red mark on Kelly's ass, forming a perfect depiction of his hand. He added another one to the other ass cheek and Kelly squealed. Her head whipped around and her eyes bore into Marcos's.

"Keep doing that," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Keep fucking…spanking! Spank me like…fuck…like I’m a bad girl…a bad wife!"

Marcos obliged and levied two or three more spanks on her ass cheeks, now glowing from the punishment. Kelly's body began to quiver, and he roughly grabbed her hips again, plowing his thick cock in and out of the married hole.

But Kelly's quivering soon devolved into shakes as a second orgasm crashed into her gut. "Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god," she breathed. She twisted away from Marcos, reveling in the exquisite spike that slammed through her unfaithful cunt, up her spine, and overloaded her brain.

In the process, Marcos's cock slipped from the hot folds of Kelly's pussy.  As he rolled her onto her back, Kelly, her eyes screwed shut, worked her left hand between her legs and strummed her fingers over her engorged clit. Marcos kicked her legs apart and moved between them, the bright red nails dancing across the inflamed nub, her wedding and engagement rings sparkling.

But Marcos wanted his cock back in her slick cunt, and he knee-walked further between her legs. His cock came to rest on the back of Kelly's hand. Kelly opened her eyes at his touch and she wrapped her fingers around the thick shaft, gently tugging it, staring at the purple head.

"You want it in you again, don't you, Mrs. MacGuire? You want my thick cock stretching your unprotected hole, huh?" Without answering him, Kelly angled Marcos' cock down toward her scalding cunt, staring him in the eyes all the while. When Marcos pushed the thick head through her cunt lips, Kelly's eyes rolled into her head, and a deep moan escaped from her throat.

He readjusted his position, and slid the length of his cock into Kelly's glistening bald cunt, crushing her clit between them.

"Nnnghnn," she moaned at the pleasure-pain that shot up to her brain. "Yesss!"

Marcos pulled back, readjusted again, and bent down to take a thick nipple between his teeth, burying his cock back into the fiery pussy as he did.

"Ohmi . . . ohmigod!"

Marcos switched from one distended nipple to the next, roughly biting the sensitive, protruding flesh.

"Bite! Bite harder!" Kelly lusted for this, to be taken by a total stranger on the bed she shared with her husband, to have her overused cunt stretched, her nipples sucked and bitten and twisted and abused. "Fuck, yesssss!" she hissed.

Marcos let a battered nipple fall from his mouth and sucked the whole areola-nipple combination into his mouth. Inside, his hot tongue swirled around the inflamed nipple, soothing it. A sharp intake of breath slipped Kelly's soft, red lips.

"Ohmigod," she whimpered.

He sucked harder on Kelly's massive tit, trying to draw as much of it into his mouth as he could. Common sense told him there was no way the entire thing would fit, but he sucked until his mouth was full of tit-flesh. With a loud pop, he released one tit and started on the other.

Beneath him, Kelly's hips rocked under the punishment that Marcos was laying on her married cunt. Kelly was stretched enough by now to easily accommodate Marcos' thick cock, but her cunt lips were wrapped tightly around the invading shaft and were pulled so taut that her clit was exposed to his pubic bone every time it crashed into her.

Marcos released her second tit from the suction of his mouth, and as it wobbled atop her chest, he bit lightly at the skin surrounding Kelly's goose-bumped areola and engorged nipple.

Wanting a different angle, Marcos raised himself off Kelly's body, leaving her tits and nipples for the moment. Still stroking his cock between the sloppy folds of her cunt, Marcos pulled Kelly's legs up to his shoulders and hugged them close to his body. Kelly groaned at the deeper penetration afforded by this position but missed having her clit crushed and battered.

Marcos allowed his cock to sink deep into Kelly's hairless cunt, hugging her quivering legs tightly. He looked down at her body and his cock pulsed at the sight of her tan-lined tits wobbling on her slim torso, the thick, reddened nipples jutting like beacons.  He leaned forward a little and placed his hands, palms open, over her nipples and areola, squeezing and kneading and pushing.

Kelly’s nipples swelled into his palms and her fingers curled around his wrists, her engagement ring and wedding bands sparkling in the dim light of the room.

Marcos loved fucking married women. In his profession, if you could call it that, the opportunity arose often. Usually, he passed up the opportunity, as more often than not the women hitting on him were not in the least attractive. But here and there, opportunities arose with women like Kelly MacGuire. Beautiful women in their twenties or thirties or even forties with firm butts and big tits. They smelled nice and were well-groomed.

When women like this, women like Kelly MacGuire, presented themselves, he never let them pass. He loved taking them in their homes, on the beds they shared with their husbands. He played with their wedding rings, to underscore their married status as his cock shoved into their cunts. He called them "Mrs." and refused to wear a rubber. To the outside world, they were all class. To Marcos, there were trophies to be won, cunts to be stretched.

So when Kelly's hand, adorned with the obscene diamond, clamped down on his wrist, Marcos groaned and pulled his cock from her sopping pussy. Releasing his grip on her tits, he elbowed her legs apart and moved up further up Kelly's body, taking his cock in hand and stroking it over her tanned, taut belly, ready to cum on her.

But Kelly slapped his hand away and her left hand encircled the thick shaft. Slick in her own cunt juices, her fingers slid smoothly over the flesh of the engorged shaft. She tightened her grip and shucked her dainty hand up and down the pulsing rod, the diamonds of her rings glittering.

Staring at the angry cock that slid effortlessly through her fist, Kelly lost sight of the rest of the world. She was in her element now. Nothing else mattered. The only thing she saw, the only thing she cared about, was the cock in her hand. It wasn't long, but it was thick, it was fat, it was engorged, and it was angry. Pre-cum leaked from the flared head. The veins pulsed madly in her fist

The light from the bedside lamp caught the 3-karat diamond of her engagement ring and the many smaller stones embedded in her wedding bands. The veins of Marcos' cock caught on the backs of her rings, and a bright flash glittered in her eye for just a moment.

This was her element. Her hand wrapped around the thick, twitching cock of a man whose name she didn’t know. On her back on the bed she shared with her husband, stark fucking naked and slicked with sweat. Her cunt stretched by a stranger. Her nipples throbbing not just from excitement, but from the tugs and bites they had endured.

Most wives live for their husbands or their children. Some live for their jobs. Some live for all three. But Kelly lived for her infidelity. She lived to fuck men she didn't even know. She lived for this, lived for having her left hand wrapped around a fat cock that pointed directly at her face, for feeling cum slap against her flesh or sear into her cunt.

Subconsciously, lost in her thoughts, Kelly had increased the pace of her stroking. She was ripped from her reverie when she saw Marcos' cockhead go purple and shiny. Then a thick rope of cum leaped from the flaring head, splashing in a haphazard line from her belly button up to the valley created by her heaving tits.

"Nnnnghnnn," she groaned, mesmerized by the thick cock erupting and disgorging its scalding sperm onto her body. "Cum for me! Cum all over me!"

The second burst of cum blasted against her chest, lashing down across her stomach to her right hip. Kelly maintained the merciless tugging of the spewing cock and was rewarded with three or four additional bursts of cum that splattered her chest.

By the time Marcos' cock was spent, cum had pooled in her belly button, covered a large portion of her taut stomach, and smeared over significant amounts of her oversized tits. Her left hand was covered in sperm, and it dripped down her fingers, coating her rings.

Marcos pulled his cock from Kelly's grasp and fell to his back beside her, still panting from exertion. Next to him, Kelly ran her fingers over her stomach and tits, spreading the cum around, licking the man’s cum from her fingers and the crevices of her rings.

After a few moments, Kelly climbed from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Marcos heard water running and, a few minutes later, Kelly reappeared in the doorway, running a large, white, fluffy towel across her chest and between her legs. 

"Can you get it up again?" she said, leaning against the doorframe, her eyes hooded.

Marcos rolled towards her voice, lying on his side. His thick, semi-erect cock rested along his thigh; a droplet of cum fell and soaked into the bedsheet. "Try me, Mrs. MacGuire."

Kelly "hmph"ed, and pushed herself off the doorframe. Crossing the room, she mounted the bed she shared with her husband and crawled toward Marcos. He closed his eyes as Kelly's flaxen hair brushed over his thighs. His cock stirred when Kelly planted light kisses up his inner thighs and swelled as the woman’s soft lips engulfed him.

Marcos spent the next two hours or so ravaging Kelly's body. At various times, she found herself on all fours on her bed or the floor, bent over the sink in the master bathroom, or straddling Marcos' prone body.

Despite his first massive orgasm, Marcos managed to dump another load of cum across her sweaty, massive tits, a third that coated the lower portion of her face, and a fourth that splattered the battered walls of her unfaithful, unprotected cunt. In the space of a few hours, Kelly MacGuire had gone from a sweet-smelling, well-groomed wife to a defiled and abused slut. Her cunt walls were sore from having been repeatedly stretched by Marcos' thick cock. Her nipples glowed red from the abuse levied upon them by Marcos' teeth. Her tits and ass revealed tell-tale signs of having been roughly squeezed, spanked, slapped and bitten.

And when Kelly passed out from exhaustion, Marcos decided it was time for him to leave. He rose from her bed and quickly dressed. He walked out of the bedroom without looking back and bounded down the stairs and out the front door.

Kelly slept through her alarm the next morning. The enormous amount of alcohol she had consumed and the three-hour fuck-session had zapped her energy. She was still passed out when the Uber bringing Mike from the airport pulled up in front of their walk-up. Neither his keys in the front door nor his shoes ascending the stairs pulled her from her alcohol-induced slumber.

Mike thought it unusual that Kelly was still in bed at this hour. The lights were off in the living room and kitchen when he walked in. He set his briefcase and suitcase at the bottom of the stairs. "Hello?" He walked back toward the kitchen and television room to ensure that no one was awake and then returned to the bottom of the stairs.

He climbed the stairs and continued toward the back of the house, to the room he shared with his wife. The door was closed and he opened it slowly, not wanting to wake her. When the door was halfway open, his blood ran cold.

Kelly was indeed still in bed. But the sight before him turned his blood from ice cold to red hot. Sheets were strewn about the floor. Stretched across the bed was his Kelly. Her legs were askew. Her cunt was red-raw and splayed open. Cum leaked from her, leaving a faint wet spot on the mattress.

Mike's eyes, fierce with anger now, traveled up her body. Her taut stomach and massive tits were crusty with cum. Her tits showed faint bruising and what appeared to be bite marks around her raw nipples, still swollen.

As Mike's nostrils flared and he was ready to erupt, Kelly shifted from her back to her side, facing away from him. Like her breasts, her firm bottom glowed red from newly inflicted bruises, handprints overlaying other handprints.

Mike stood there in shock. He took it all in, or tried to, but it was too much. He had never seen his wife like this. His heart and his mind found it hard to accept what his gut would not allow him to deny. Fury raced through every fiber in his body as he stepped into the room, easing the door shut behind him.  He didn’t want his daughter to hear this.

Mike stepped to the bed. He couldn’t bear to look at her, or touch her. But he wanted her attention. Reaching down, he took her hair in his fist, raised her head off the mattress, and leaned down. When her eyelids fluttered open, his lips curled into a snarl. “What…the…fuck!”

***

A few weeks after his rendezvous with Dave, Dan learned of these events. It was late on a Saturday afternoon and he was relaxing on the couch when his phone rang.  He glanced at the screen and saw only “Private.”  When he answered, there was a moment of silence before he heard her voice.

"Hey, it’s…it’s me." Her voice was soft, tentative.

"Hey, you." Dan sat up on his couch, hoping he’d kept the pity out of his tone. "Long time, no talk."

"Yeah, sorry. Some things…uh…some things happened and I sort of disappeared for a bit."

"Mmmm," he responded noncommittally. When Kelly didn't continue, Dan did. "So, tell me. What's up?"

"Well, a few weeks after I last saw you, Mike…Mike caught me…cheating." She paused, and when Dan remained silent, she continued. "I went to this bachelorette party and…"

Kelly recounted the evening, though in a truncated fashion, and the consequences that befell her, including the unceremonious order that she leave the marital home.

"So I gathered a few belongings and left. I went to my parents' house for the night."

"Yeah? And how'd that go?"

A forlorn chuckle. "It sucked. I had to tell them everything. My mom cried, and my dad was his stoic self. They were good about it but I know I disappointed them, too.”  A heavy sigh came over the line.

“Mike sent me a text the next morning, telling me to get the rest of my things from the house the next day. When I arrived, he and Evelyn were gone.  A friend of his was there and watched me the whole time. He cataloged everything I took. And when I left, as the door was shutting, you know what he said to me? ‘Whore.' It was so humiliating."

Dan heard a soft sob.

"Mike softened up a little and let me see Evelyn for a few hours on Christmas Eve day, as long as his sister was there. More humiliation.  The hatred in her eyes? You can't imagine it."

Another sigh. "But he filed for divorce the day after Christmas. My lawyer tells me that you can get a no-fault divorce in Illinois, but that's not what Mike asked for. He asked for a fault divorce, or whatever you call it. He said in the papers that I had cheated on him, and that was why he was asking for a divorce. I can't really fight it, and I'm not. He can have the house and all the stuff; I don't care about those things. I just want visitation rights with Evelyn. My lawyer says I should have no problem getting that, so I'm crossing my fingers."

"I'm so sorry, Kelly." Dan really meant it. "I hope it turns out well for you."

"Yeah, me, too," she responded softly, reflectively. "I hope you know this had nothing to do with you, Dan. It would have happened anyway. I was out of control, self-destructive. It’s taken several months of therapy for me to see the obvious."

Dan was quiet for a minute or so before he spoke again. "So, what have you been doing since all this happened?"

"Well, I'm back to work full-time. I need to support myself. I took a full-time job with another consulting outfit. Good pay, good benefits. I stayed with my parents for a month or so, sulking and feeling sorry for myself, trying to figure out if I could salvage this whole thing. I didn't even go to Donna's wedding; I couldn't bear to face all those people that undoubtedly knew what happened, what I did. I tried to reconcile with Mike, but he wouldn't even return my calls. Not that I blame him.”

Dan heard her voice catch.

"I sent him an e-mail. I told him about everything. Well…not everything, but I explained that my infidelity was habitual. I didn't name names, but my shrink thought it would help my 'psychological recovery' to confess my sins. So anyway, I rented an apartment in the Gold Coast. It's an empty life, though. I’m not ready to date; don’t know if I ever will be. Haven’t even had sex."

"It'll take some time, Kelly, but it'll work itself out eventually."  Dan was ill-equipped to deal with this.

"Yeah, well, that's why I called." She paused, as though she were gathering her thoughts, or perhaps her nerve. "I was wondering if we could get together sometime?”

Dan heard the hope in her voice and sighed. "Kelly, I don't want to rule that out, but I don't want to mislead you, either. You and I served very discreet purposes in each other’s lives. Don't get me wrong: it was incredible. You're incredible. You took me places I've never been. But as far as you and I dating?”  He paused. “Ask yourself this: could you ever be faithful?"

Dan let that hang in the air for a moment. In a voice filled with shame, Kelly responded, "Probably not. I wish I could make that promise and mean it, but I can't. Not right now. We both know that."

"Yeah, we do. And as much as I enjoy you, when I decide I want a girlfriend…” Dan’s voice trailed off for a minute.  “Look…you are gorgeous, one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, but I don't think I could ever trust you to be faithful."

Kelly didn’t respond, but he heard another soft sob.

"You okay?"

Kelly took a moment to collect herself. "Yeah…no. I don't know, Dan. I really don't know," she sighed. "I just feel so lost, so empty. It's like…it's like I have no emotions anymore. I'm just a shell." Her sobbing, still soft, began anew.

No matter how much she deserved this pain – it was self-inflicted, after all – this was heart-wrenching.

"Tell you what, Kelly. Clean yourself up, get dressed, and meet me at the Old Town Alehouse. You know where that is? Two or three blocks west of LaSalle on North?"

"Yeah."

"Meet me there in an hour. But I want to be clear. You're not coming back here later, and I'm not going to your place. And we're not going to talk about the shitty things going on in our lives. We're just going to have a few drinks and have some fun. You need to laugh. But this is not a date, and we're not hooking up. Got it?"

Kelly laughed softly. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks."

"See you in a bit."

***

She greeted him with a warm, inviting smile and they hugged. He had a difficult time looking at her platonically. She was dressed in a white blouse, khaki capris, and a pair of driving moccasins. Her breasts strained seductively at her top. Her hair was in a ponytail, her make-up light. Gone were her wedding rings.

But Dan kept his mind where it belonged and managed to keep Kelly's mind from the awful predicament she had put herself in. For a few hours at least, Kelly MacGuire smiled and laughed and her bright blue eyes sparkled.

It took all his willpower not to invite her home with him, but when the bartender called last-call, they left the bar. She paused on the sidewalk, a look of anticipation in her eye. But on her tiptoes, she leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Let's keep in touch, huh?"

"Let's try to do that. But take care of yourself first. Pick yourself up, get your life straight. All right?"

"Such sage advice from a young man," she teased.

Dan smiled, but said, "Yeah, but I'm serious. Whatever we were, it was intense and there’s some bond there. I care about what happens to you and I want you to be happy. Truly happy. So do what you need to do to get there."

"I will.” She squeezed his hand softly and turned away. “See you," she called out over her shoulder.

Dan watched her walk away, hot as fuck, ring or no ring. He knew they wouldn't keep in touch. It just wasn't in the cards. He ordered an Uber.

***

Kelly didn't go immediately home. She opted for a drink at Gibson’s, but she didn’t finish it. Instead, she led a stranger back to her apartment. The door was barely closed before she found herself on her knees, the cock banging against the back of her throat, gagging her. They moved to her bed, Kelly on all fours, her cunt filled and then her asshole stretched tightly around the battering cock. When he finally left, Kelly was on her knees again, bent backward over her mattress, a thick glob of cum dangling from her lower lip before splattering her tits.