1. The perfect plan or How Pedro came to visit

Lucy sat at the kitchen table, her fingers lightly tapping against the rim of her coffee cup.

This time, she told herself, it will happen.

There had been interruptions, close calls, maddeningly bad timing. But tonight? Tonight, her plan would finally work.

She took a sip of coffee and thought back to their first meeting at that boring workshop. A cramped conference room, the smell of cheap coffee and whiteboard markers hanging in the air, and him—radiating charm and confidence. Lucy recognized the type. The kind of man who knew how to angle his smile, how to make women feel seen. His features weren’t textbook handsome, but Lucy could tell he kept himself fit, living a healthy, simple life that showed in the way he moved and held himself.

By the first coffee break, she caught herself studying the line of his jaw, the way his shirt clung just enough across his shoulders. By lunch, she was acutely aware of how he subtly undressed her with his eyes.

One glass of bad Chardonnay and fifteen minutes of conversation later, Lucy had made her decision. This is the man with whom I’ll cheat on my husband. I've been the perfect wife for five years, and I have never cheated on him. Maybe a drunken kiss, or a dance that was just a bit too close. And, let’s be fair—I’ve had plenty of opportunities. It’s not that I don’t love James. I do.

So why?

I don’t know—and maybe it doesn’t even matter.

She’d boldly asked for Pedro’s number and suggested he take her out for a drink. That was almost two months ago. Since then, there had been improvised dates—hidden in crowds, at the gym, at the cinema—passionate kisses and soft touches.

Two weeks ago, they’d ended up in his car, parked on a dim street that smelled faintly of wet leaves.

His mouth crashed against hers. His hands threaded into her hair, pulling her closer until she was half-straddling his lap. She could still feel the rough graze of his stubble along her neck, the heat of his breath when he whispered her name like a curse. One hand slipped under her sweater, fingers splaying across her breast, his thumb circling until she had to bite her lip to keep quiet.

Her hands were just as guilty. She remembered the hard, insistent shape of his cock beneath his jeans, her palm cupping him through the fabric, feeling him throb against her hand as he groaned low in his throat.

Then that moment—his fingers sliding under the lace edge of her panties, finding her already wet, teasing her with just enough pressure to make her hips twitch.

She’d had to stop. Not there. Not like this. Not with a gearshift digging into my thigh, half-dressed and cramped, fumbling with zippers and buttons in the glow of a streetlight. She wanted more—wanted him to take his time, to peel away her clothes piece by piece until she was stretched bare beneath him. She wanted to feel his weight pinning her down, his skin hot against hers, the press of his hips making promises he fully intended to keep. She wanted a proper fuck—a fuck to remember when she first cheated.

Lucy’s gaze lingered on her reflection, weighing her choices, mind running through every scenario.

“Alright, Lucy,” she whispered, resolute. Enough daydreaming.

James wouldn’t be home until eight—she had time, just enough to achieve the perfect look: irresistible, but not rehearsed. The red dress? Too obvious. The black one? Classy. But lingerie under casual jeans—now that was the perfect balance of mystery and intent. The thought alone sent a spark through her. Subtle on the outside, secrets beneath, hinting at confidence without making a spectacle. Subtle makeup and a spritz of her favorite perfume.

She exhaled sharply as heat coiled in her stomach. She could already feel Pedro’s hands on her, tracing lazy paths over her skin, his mouth warm and demanding. She ached at the thought. Tonight wasn’t just about flirtation. It was about giving in—hard and fast—to the craving that had been gnawing at her for weeks.

But logistics first. The bed? Too intimate. Their scent would cling to the sheets. The couch? Safer, but still risky. Or standing up against the wall… fast, hard, no evidence. Kitchen counter? God, the idea made her tingle inside.

And the noise? She’d have to keep herself from moaning too loudly. Maybe blast some music—nothing romantic, just enough to muffle the sounds of skin meeting skin. A sigh slipped from her mouth. The plan was flawless. Execution would be perfect.

The doorbell rang at exactly six. Lucy’s pulse spiked as she opened the door, letting her sultriest smile curl her lips.

Pedro smiled back, a little tense with a bottle of wine in one hand. His perfume hit her instantly—thick, spicy, almost overwhelming.

“Wow. You’re… yeah. You’re stunning,” he said, stepping inside and letting his hand brush against hers. “I hope you like the wine. “I thought about bringing flowers,” he said with a crooked smile, “but figured they’d be… hard to explain later.”

“Thank you. Your perfume is intoxicating, but I hope it doesn’t linger too much.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. I know you like it.”

“I made us dinner,” she said quickly, regaining control. “You like pasta, right?”

Pedro smirked, crashing his lips against hers—hungry, demanding. His hands found her hips, fingers digging in as he walked her backward into the living room. She let out a soft gasp as her back hit the couch.

Clothes became a blur. Pedro groaned at the sight of her lace lingerie, his fingers teasing the straps before tugging them down.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growled, his mouth trailing wet, open kisses down her neck, between her breasts, lower still.

“Wait, a condom, please?”

Pedro froze, a flicker of shame flashing in his eyes. “I… forgot,” he admitted, voice rough but tinged with apology.

Lucy groaned. “Seriously? You had one job.”

She wouldn’t let a small thing like this ruin her plan. She sprinted to the bathroom, rummaged through an old travel kit, and—bingo! A single, slightly crumpled but still sealed condom.

Pedro’s hand slid lower, cupping her pussy with firm, deliberate pressure as his mouth claimed hers in a deep, hungry kiss. His fingers pressed into her, drawing a shiver that ran through her body like electricity. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to murmur against her lips, “Turn around for me.”

She hesitated for a flicker of a second before obeying, arching her back as she lifted her ass toward him. His eyes darkened with something both possessive and tender.

“Your ass looks incredible,” he breathed. “I want to hold it tight.”

She moaned softly, then looked over her shoulder and said, “I don’t really like it from behind.”

Pedro’s hands slowed, gentler, his voice a low, reassuring murmur. “That’s alright. But tonight, let’s make it ours. I want you to feel how good it can be.”

Lucy felt exposed, a flicker of hesitation trembling beneath Pedro’s touch. But his voice was soft, his praise genuine, steadying her fluttering nerves. The head of his cock teased slow, deliberate circles over her tight entrance. Slowly and deliberately, he began to massage her pussy, moving up and down with a steady rhythm. Each stroke sent a fresh wave of heat through her, the friction stirring a growing ache deep within her. Her body responded with involuntary trembles and soft gasps. Every gentle glide drawn from that tight, sensitive spot pulled her closer to the edge, his touch a perfect blend of urgency and affection teasing out her desire.

“I want you inside…” she moaned softly.

Pedro’s hand slipped around her side, fingers settling gently yet firmly as he pressed against her clit. With slow, deliberate circles, he teased it—soft pressure building, caressing the sensitive bud. He ignored her subtle pleading to enter her, to fill her completely. Each circular motion pressed and released just enough to keep her on edge, the mix of gentle insistence and tender play igniting a delicious tension between them.

Leaning in, Pedro bit softly at her ear, his breath warm and husky as he whispered, “Now, touch yourself.”

No sooner had Lucy’s trembling fingers begun their delicate exploration than Pedro slid deep inside her with the very first stroke. The sudden fullness made her gasp sharply for air, a raw, breathless sound filling the charged silence between them.

Their bodies came alive to the rhythm—his hips moving in steady, rolling glides as his hands held her firm and close. With each thrust, Lucy felt exposed and vulnerable but safe, grounded by the strength and warmth of his grip.

He spoke softly, voice thick with heat and tenderness: “You feel incredible like this. I love watching you let go for me.”

His movements became a dance—fluid and rhythmic, like salsa, sensual and commanding. In the dark, Lucy pictured his coy smile, the one that always melted her defenses, while the wet slapping sounds rose around them like a private symphony.

The combination of deep penetration, attentive rhythm, and focused stimulation left her breathless. Each time he adjusted his angle or grip, it felt like he was reading her cues, chasing the spot that made her pulse race and her skin tingle.

Lucy pressed back into him as her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, blinding and hot. Her walls fluttered around him as she convulsed, muffling her cries into the couch cushion. Pedro followed moments later with a low, guttural moan, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into the condom.

The room filled with a gentle quiet, interrupted only by the soft sound of their breathing. Lucy pressed her cheek to the side of Pedro’s chest, basking in the safety of his embrace. She smiled to herself, her mind looping over the moments they’d just shared, tracing every sensation. She had never imagined how easy it could be, how effortless and rewarding to simply give in.

She let herself drift, tucked into the crook of his arm, marveling at the luck that had brought them together. How fortunate she was to have finally found someone who made sex feel so right, so natural.

But her luck was about to run out as her phone rang. It was James.