Climbing into the car, I could feel cum seeping from my swollen pussy, soaking into already damp knickers—a sordid, sticky reminder of everything that should never have happened. As if I needed one.

"What the fuck was I thinking?" I snapped at my reflection in the rearview mirror, as hot tears splattered down my cheeks. I slumped forward, resting my head on trembling hands wrapped around the steering wheel and cursed my stupidity.

 "I should never have come here," I whispered, over and over, hoping that repetition might erase what had happened, but it was too late. Some things can't be undone.

"Why, oh why, did I give in to Daniel Martin?"

As if it wasn't complicated enough that he's my best friend's husband, he's also my husband's cousin.

***

Donna and I met Daniel at a party years ago. The man introducing him was my fiancé. We were six months into our engagement, the wedding date was set, and the invitations had been sent.

Until that night, I never would have dreamed of betraying Harold, but after meeting Daniel, I wondered how long it would be before I became an unfaithful wife. Funny, how life has a way of blindsiding you.

Besides being able to charm the birds right out of the trees, Daniel is so breathtakingly handsome that it seemed unfair to all other men, including my husband. It wasn't just his tall, athletic build or the mane of thick, tousled hair that belonged on the cover of a romance novel; his skin had that permanent, effortless tan. His aristocratic nose looked like it had been shaped by the Gods, and he had lips, full, sensual, and just waiting to be kissed. 

But it was his eyes that turned my insides to jelly. Crystal blue, sharp and knowing. It was like he could read your dirtiest secrets and dare you to want more. The way he looked at me was enough to cause a tremor in the force, as Obi-Wan might say, and made me feel naked under his gaze.

And when he spoke, his voice, smoky, rich, like it rose straight from the soles of his polished shoes, made my spine shiver and my cunt clench. The wet heat moistened my knickers, and my mouth went dry as my head swirled with too many lurid fantasies.

Daniel didn't just intrigue me. He possessed my thoughts, made me think of things an engaged woman shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself. Donna glanced at Daniel and then leaned into me and whispered, "I'm gonna have him before the night's over."

In the taxi on the way home, Donna, drunk and giggling, confessed what had happened between them. Apparently, they'd ended up shagging in the loos, Donna with her knickers twisted around her thighs, and her skirt up around her waist, and Daniel with his trousers around his ankles.

Listening, I felt my pussy clench with desire. Hot, wet and aching, I had to sit on my hands just to keep from touching myself in public when Donna described how Daniel had taken her from behind while she vigorously fingered herself.

As if hearing how they'd shagged wasn't torture enough, Donna, utterly oblivious to my situation, went on to describe the size and skill of Daniel's prowess. In graphic detail, I heard how big, thick and how good he was at fucking her, the words painting a vivid, triple-X-rated slideshow in my brain. Listening, I found myself vividly fantasising about what it would feel like to be split open by Daniel's monster cock.

That was years ago, of course, and although I'm happily married, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about having an affair with Daniel.

Please understand me, Harold is a good man, a devoted husband, and a respected figure in our community. I love him deeply, but in terms of our physical compatibility, we are not entirely suited. Whereas Harold is content with making sweet love, I love sex, hot, steamy, the dirtier the better.

And sometimes, when I get that particular kind of itch between my legs, I have to relieve the tension and think about Daniel… about what I'd let him do to me… well, it gets the job done.

To make matters worse, I frequently get to hear all about Daniel and Donna's love life. When they're not fucking like bunnies, they argue, and afterwards Donna comes round to me to cry on my shoulder. We'll uncork a bottle of red, sit at my kitchen table while she soaks my blouse with mascara tears, and eventually, always, inevitably, the conversation turns to sex.

Once she's had a few glasses, Donna can't keep her mouth shut, and I get to hear how Daniel took her roughly over the kitchen counter, or how he made her come so hard in the garden shed, she thought she saw stars. 

Donna, unrepentant in her misery, doesn't realise what her tales do to me, but her descriptions are so vivid, I can't help but get aroused. Listening to her, I see every kiss, lick, and stroke Daniel gives her, in my mind's eye. I know which positions he likes the best, and how demanding or dirty he is. All this information is locked up securely in my little vault of "what if," I keep behind my respectable housewifely exterior.

However, it's one thing to get yourself off thinking about your best friend's husband. It's quite another to 'act' on it.

With hindsight, it's always easy to see when one makes the wrong decisions, and my obsession with Daniel increased when his and Donna's rows became more frequent. Unconsciously, that's when the harmless flirting between us took on a new significance. We'd always exchanged cheeky barbs and the occasional wink, but one afternoon, Daniel dropped a joke about getting into my knickers. 

It wasn't the first time he'd said something like that—but this time… Usually, I'd have shot him down with a scathing quip or an eye-roll, but instead, I smiled, and with my heart thudding so wildly I half expected it to crack my ribs, I stared at him and mumbled something about being ready whenever he was. Daniel's momentary stunned silence was priceless, but true to form, he recovered with his trademark smirk and said he might just take me up on the offer. Then, seeing me bite my lip, he winked—and the butterflies in my stomach went into a full-blown meltdown.

Nothing more happened that day, but a match had been ignited. I'd deliberately crossed a line, and the flirtation between us stopped being playfully innocent and took on a more loaded meaning, and I couldn't stop thinking about Daniel and me fucking each other.

***

A few weeks later, at a New Year's Eve fancy dress party, the stakes were raised.

On a whim, I'd rented a naughty schoolgirl outfit. The white blouse stretched tightly over a red lace bra, fitted perfectly, while a short pleated skirt revealed the matching pair of knickers with every step. Sexy stockings, high heels, and cherry-red lipstick completed my outfit. Upon seeing my reflection, I caught my breath. It was more daring than I'd imagined, but it was perfect for my intentions.

The party was packed, far too many guests had been invited, but the atmosphere was electric. 

Booze flowed like water, and a haze of sweet-smelling smoke drifted from a corner where a group of hippies were pretending it was still 1969.

Daniel was dressed as an old-fashioned bobby, tall and broad in his navy blue uniform, complete with a truncheon hanging by his hip. From the moment I walked in, I felt his eyes on me, his gaze caressing my skin like fingertips. Every time I turned around, he was there—watching,  undressing me with those glacial blue eyes.

Finally, Donna and Daniel joined us, and even standing beside my husband, I couldn't help but feel the pull between us. And try as I might, my body betrayed the thrill. I didn't need to look at my chest to know my erect nipples were making themselves visible, and between my thighs, musky secretions were rapidly moistening my knickers. When Daniel asked me to dance, I didn't hesitate.

The music was fast, the crowd rowdy, but all I could think about was the heat between us. Daniel twirled me, spun me, pulled me close. My skirt flew up with every turn, flashing my crimson knickers to anyone who cared to look—and I didn't care. I wanted them to see. I wanted him to know.

Then he stopped me mid-spin and yanked me flush against him. I gasped as something thick and unmistakably hard pressed between my buttocks. For a split second, I wondered if his truncheon had moved position, but a quick glance at his side told me enough. He thrust his hips again, and his bulge pushed against my bum. 

As I gasped, Donna's filthy tales echoed in my head, about Daniel bending her over the kitchen counter and fucking her until she begged for mercy. And now his erection was pressing into my arse while he whispered against my neck.

"Fuck me, Andrea."

I giggled, coy and breathless.

"Is that a compliment or a statement of intent?"

"Both," he growled. "Jesus, you're the most fuckable woman here tonight—and I want you."

Given the near-naked Roman slave girls wandering about, and a rather ravishing Princess Leia shimmying nearby, his words and cock almost persuaded me to let him have me there and then. 

I ground my arse harder into Daniel's cock, letting his bulge slip between my buttocks. He grabbed my hips and held me in position as I teased his hardness with my bum.

Another shiver ran down my spine as we teased each other, and I seriously thought about letting Daniel take me upstairs. But even as my body urged me to succumb to the incredible sensations his touches elicited, something, some tiny shard of decency, cut through the fog of lust, and I spun away.

He looked gutted. Like a kid who'd just dropped his ice cream, and I immediately felt like a bitch. 

Unable and unwilling to leave him like that, I smiled at him. 

Then, twirling back into him, I grabbed his hand and slid it between my thighs. His fingers found the damp fabric, and I pressed his palm into me, my own hand covering his.

"Can you feel how wet I am?" I croaked

"U-huh."

"That's how much I want you, Daniel."

For a few delirious seconds, we danced like that—his hand working my clit through my soaked knickers while other partygoers drunkenly whirled around the dance floor, oblivious to what was happening between us. Then, just as I felt myself teetering on the brink of wanton madness, I spun away again, and as we stared intently at each other, I knew I had to have him. 

Unfortunately, before I had a chance to whisk him somewhere private, Harold and Donna joined us on the dance floor.

Although I couldn't stop biting my lip in disappointment, I accepted the inevitable and tried acting like nothing had happened. Watching Donna reclaim her husband was gut-wrenching, and for the first time in years, I felt a pang of jealousy toward her. My body ached for his touch, but that couldn't happen now, not with Harold and Donna here, dancing next to us. Although the hard disco beat made real conversation almost impossible, the pounding heartbeat in my ears was a reminder of how close I'd been to becoming an unfaithful wife. 

As the rest of the evening dragged on towards midnight, Harold, uncharacteristically attentive, hovered at my side, blissfully unaware of the internal conflict within me, and when Big Ben finally sounded at midnight, Daniel's New Year's kiss was a polite peck. Disappointing, but understandable.

When the party ended, I managed to grope his cock as we said goodbye, and was rewarded with a firm squeeze of my arse. As we parted, we both knew this wasn't the end; it was just the beginning.

***

A fire had been ignited and was constantly smouldering beneath the surface, and unable to have the man I burned for, I grew resentful. Restless. Prickly.

And Harold? Poor, ignorant Harold, well, he got used to living with a bitch.

I didn't call or text Daniel because I didn't want to be that woman, a needy, reckless slut who couldn't wait to get her hands on her best friend's husband. And it seemed Daniel had made the same choice, because for a while, there was no contact between us. That doesn't mean I didn't hear about his exploits, because Donna kept bringing him up, usually in tears, after one of their fights. She'd slump on my couch with mascara-streaked cheeks and tell me how awful he'd been. The drinking, the late nights, the biting sarcasm, and while she sobbed, I'd hold her hand and pretend to be a good friend, but secretly, my body ached for Daniel.

Because Harold and Daniel were blood relatives, there was no way we could avoid each other indefinitely. Still, I consoled myself with the fact that we'd only see each other at family gatherings, and with the whole family around, there was no way we could misbehave. 

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

It was Harold's parents' wedding anniversary, and Daniel and Donna were there, as expected. During the Sunday roast, our gazes met occasionally across the dining table, but we didn't speak a word to each other. Then, after the meal, the kids vanished with their PlayStations, and the men went to watch Sunday afternoon football, while we women lingered at the table, sipping wine and gossiping.

It was all very civil, very proper, and I was enjoying myself until ignoring the call of nature nearly caused an embarrassing incident. Unfortunately, the downstairs loo was occupied, and cursing like a trooper, I bolted upstairs to the bathroom, praying I wouldn't wet myself. I barely made it.

After relieving myself, I washed my hands and then checked my reflection in the mirror. Pleased with my appearance, I opened the bathroom door and walked straight into Daniel.

He was just 'there', filling the doorway, his broad frame blocking any escape.

I froze.

While my brain scrambled to find a rational explanation, the look in his eyes made it clear Daniel didn't need the toilet.

He grabbed me. His mouth immediately crashed down on mine, his tongue parting my lips before I could even speak. I gasped into him, but didn't resist. I couldn't, and as we stumbled backwards into the bathroom, I clutched his hips.

He kicked the door shut behind us, never breaking the kiss and kept moving until my back hit the vanity unit. Unable to retreat any further, Daniel thrust his hand between my thighs.

No hesitation. No permission asked, just an undeniable desire. 

"I want you so bad, Andrea, it hurts."

"Don't stop," I breathed, dragging my skirt up around my hips. My fingers fumbled for Daniel's zipper, for the heat pressing against his fly.

Daniel's touch was electric. Fast. Precise. His fingers worked in tight, delicious circles, and my body betrayed me instantly. Usually, it takes Harold ages to make me cum, if he succeeds, but Daniel instinctively knew what I wanted. Within seconds, I went from zero to a shuddering mess. My hands gripped his shoulders, while I sank my teeth into his shirt to muffle my moans. I jerked my hips against his hand, my cunt soaked and spasming around his fingers.

As my orgasm subsided, I grabbed his throbbing flesh, determined to feel it push inside me, to fill me, to cry out as it stretched me. I craved him like I craved no other, and had already pulled my shopping gusset aside. Then I heard a child's footsteps outside the bathroom door, and through the fog of lust, I knew this wasn't the time. Not in this house. Not like this.

Summoning every ounce of self-control I possessed, I pushed him away.

"Daniel, stop, this isn't right," I panted. "We don't need complications. This has to stop."

At first, it seemed like he hadn't heard me, and he pushed himself between my splayed thighs. As his cock brushed against my mound, my resistance almost crumbled, but common sense prevailed. 

Although my lips, both sets, still tingled from his touch, I pushed him from between my thighs and forced my body past his. In the hallway, I rearranged my clothing, and with my thighs still trembling, I walked downstairs like nothing had happened. 

Ever attentive, Donna noticed my flushed expression. 

"You okay, Hun?" she asked. "You've gone really quiet."

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just glad I made it to the toilet in time." Donna grinned, and I immediately felt like a heel. She didn't deserve this, and I silently vowed to stay away from Daniel. 

If we didn't see each other, we couldn't be tempted to do anything stupid, but with such close family ties, there was no way we could avoid each other. And although it didn't happen often, we occasionally found ourselves alone in a room. Mostly, we just had enough time for a quick feel and an unsatisfactory kiss, but twice we had enough time for some mutual masturbation, and both times ended up with Daniel covering my hand in warm, thick spunk, while I drenched his fingers in sweet, sticky cum. 

Despite each frenzied encounter ending with a climax, I convinced myself that because we hadn't actually fucked each other, we hadn't been unfaithful, but I was only fooling myself. 

Guilt-ridden, I avoided Donna as much as I could and tried to repair my relationship with Harold, but I was doomed. Daniel was inside my head, and I couldn't stop thinking about him. At night, I'd lie beside Harold and touch myself, feeling my slickness between my thighs as I thought about Daniel touching me, and knew I was playing with fire.

And destiny, it seemed, was ready to throw gasoline on the flames.

***

It was a lazy day, sweatpants, no bra, and an old jumper that had seen better years, when Donna stormed into the kitchen. One look at her smudged makeup, puffy eyes, and tear-streaked cheeks, and I didn't need to ask what had happened.

Apparently, Daniel had discovered a string of saucy texts on her phone and had gone off the deep end. When she tried to explain, he called her an "unfaithful slut” and stormed out.

Between sobs, Donna explained the truth. The "lad" was a cocky seventeen-year-old on work experience. To put him in his place, she and a few other women had ganged up against him and bombarded him with flirty texts. From what I gathered, the young man gave as good as he got, but that's a story for another day.

Miserable and desperate, she begged me to go after Daniel, to talk some sense into him.

Which left me with an impossible choice: help my best friend, knowing it meant being alone with the man I could barely keep my hands off, or say no and try to explain why... without wrecking our friendship.

Being a coward, I chose the former.

When I arrived at Donna's house, the fallout was evident. Broken crockery crunched beneath my shoes in the hallway, and every skewed picture frame spoke of the storm that had torn through. The kitchen was chaotic, and the living room looked no better.

Upstairs, I found Daniel—shirtless, sprawled across the bed in nothing but boxers, snoring softly. The sight of him stopped me in my tracks. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, and the prominent bulge in his boxers was impossible to ignore.

Although I was prepared to jump his bones, seeing the empty whiskey bottle by his side and the half-finished glass on the nightstand, I realised this wasn't the time. With a wistful sigh, I turned and went back downstairs.

I texted Donna to say that Daniel was asleep and that I'd clean up the mess here. I told her to take one of my sleeping pills and try to rest.

A thumbs-up emoji popped back. That was my cue.

Earbuds in, sleeves rolled, I queued up my favourite playlist and got to work. To keep the noise down for Sleeping Beauty upstairs, I swept the debris instead of vacuuming, humming along to the music in my ears as I filled bin bags and wiped surfaces.

Then I turned to the mountain of dirty dishes on the worktop. Opening the dishwasher, I began stacking plates, hips swaying absently to an old ABBA tune, when I felt hands grip my hips. Firm and possessive, they pulled my bum against something unmistakably hard. 

My stomach flipped.

I hadn't heard him come down the stairs, but it could only be Daniel, and the erection grinding into my arse left me in no doubt about what he wanted.

***

The devil inside me couldn't resist. I pulled out my earplugs, bit my lip, and gave my bum a playful wiggle against his cock.

"Jesus, Donna, you look so fucking sexy," he croaked, his voice rough with sleep and lust. "I couldn't help myself." His hips jerked forward again, grinding against me.

Torn between desire and loyalty, I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from moaning. But there was no mistaking the warm, sticky mess his cock was making in my knickers.

"How about I rip these clothes off you and take you right here in the kitchen?" he groaned, tugging at the waistband of my sweatpants.

Now I was in serious trouble.

I'd never wanted anything so badly—but I couldn't let this farce continue. Straightening up, I turned to face Daniel.

"If you do that, Lover, I might have one hell of a job explaining my torn clothes to your wife."

"Fucking Jesus… Shit, Andrea."

Having mistaken me for Donna, his eyes widened like a spooked stallion.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Well, apart from having you shove your cock into my arse, I came to talk some sense into you, on behalf of your Donna."

Hands on hips, I watched him grind his knuckles into his eyes. It was oddly satisfying.

"God, I'm such a fucking dickhead."

"No argument here. Only a bloody moron would think his wife was shagging a seventeen-year-old kid from work."

"I know, I know. I just… I get so jealous." He shook his head miserably. "The thought of Donna with another man—"

"Boy," I cut in, smirking as pain flickered across his face.

"God, I'm such a fool."

"Yes, you are. Luckily Donna loves you so much she'd probably forgive you for this." Our eyes met." Anyway, who are you to be calling her out, or have you forgotten about the time I made you cum all over my hand? I bet Donna doesn't know about that?"

"No," he said, raising his hands like a guilty schoolboy. Before I could respond, he stepped closer, surprisingly fast for someone hungover and mumbled, "And I'm not going to tell her about this either."

His lips found mine.

We were kissing like the world was ending while his hands moved everywhere. He thrust them into my sweatpants, grabbing my arse and squeezing my buttocks while our tongues danced. By the time he pulled away, my nipples poked through my sweatshirt, and my soaked knickers were clinging to my pussy like a second skin.

"Yes, Andrea," he panted, planting kisses along my neck, "I'm the biggest fucking hypocrite to walk the earth. But you're so goddamn sexy—I can't help myself when I'm around you."

I felt his erection press against my thigh, and his hand slipped into my knickers.

"But," he said, fingers brushing my clit in that infuriating, teasing way, "I must strongly disagree with your accusations that we've been unfaithful. There was never any penetration and therefore, technically speaking, we haven't been unfaithful."

My lips still tingled from his kisses, and with his fingers making me cream through my underwear, I felt my blood start to boil, but for all the wrong reasons.

"You can't be serious," I gasped, trying to push him away.

"Deadly." His face was infuriatingly earnest while he continued fingering my pussy. "And despite what I'm doing right now, you'll have to admit I've got a point."

I snorted. Loudly.

But he didn't flinch. "Come on, Andrea. Have we really been unfaithful?"

I stood there, open-mouthed. This wasn't the time or place for moral debates; besides, in my mind, I already knew the answer. 

I had been unfaithful.

If Harold and Donna had caught us the last time Daniel had his fingers in my cunt, there was no doubt in my mind that they would have labelled us as unfaithful. 

But as Adam and Eve discovered, forbidden fruit tastes sweetest, and right now, I wasn't interested in guilt or righteousness.

All I wanted was to feel Daniel's cock push inside me.

"I thought so," Daniel said, his triumphant smirk practically daring me.

I should've slapped that cocky grin off his face, but the thick erection pressing against my thigh and the rough fingers teasing my clit all conspired against me.

"You might think you're being clever, Daniel," I said, voice low and sharp. "But both of us know we're betraying Donna's trust, and don't pretend otherwise."

Without answering, Daniel slipped two fingers deep inside me. I gasped, breath catching. "But that won't stop me from letting you fuck my brains out in a minute," I added, my voice trembling.

He laughed darkly. "Andrea, stop lecturing me with bullshit semantics. We've played around, sure, but with no actual penetration, there's no fucking, and if we haven't fucked, then there's no question of unfaithfulness. Period."

The wet, sloppy squelching between my thighs screamed otherwise, but I didn't want to argue anymore.

"Now why don't you get on your knees, and show me how much you want my cock. Who knows, I might even fuck you after I've cum all over your face."

"You fucking bastard," I hissed, breathless. "Don't make promises you can't keep." Grinning, I tore off my ratty sweater and dropped to my knees before his massive bulge. Like a kid waiting for a long-promised gift, I slid my fingers beneath his waistband and, with my heart pounding, tugged his boxers from his hips.

His cock sprang free, slapping onto my face, thick, heavy and all mine.

My eyes shone with hunger as I licked the underside of his stiff shaft, his warm, soft skin burning deliciously against my tongue. I smirked, tightening my grip on his manhood, my eyes full of promise.

"This is just the start," I replied. "We'll soon see how 'faithful' you really are."

Pulling back his foreskin, I twirled my tongue around his swollen head, savouring the salty taste of his pre-cum leaking from the slit.

When I started bobbing my head up and down, he grabbed a fistful of my tangled hair, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth. Unable to resist, my lips slid all the way down his velvety hardness, stopping when his short curls tickled my nose.

"Fuck, Andrea," he gasped. "Not even Donna can take me all the way. You're a real blowjob queen."

I released him, grabbing his heavy balls in my hand and squeezing them tight.

"I'm Donna's best friend," I warned, tightening my grip. "So watch how you talk about her, motherfucker."

He nodded quickly.

"Besides," I whispered, softer now, "not everyone has a mouth like mine."

I massaged his heavy balls while licking and kissing his purple head, stroking his thick shaft with growing urgency.

Determined to blow his mind, I dribbled saliva between my breasts.

"Come on, Daniel," I whispered, eyes hungry. "Shoot your hot cum all over these tits," and formed a warm, inviting cleft for his throbbing meat.

"Whatever you want," he said, guiding the thick shaft between my slick, waiting breasts.

At first, his thrusts were slow and deliberate, as if savouring the feel of my warm, slippery cleavage. But when I opened my mouth and tilted my head just right, his cock bumped against my tongue each time he slid forward. A growl rumbled from his throat, and he gripped my hair with both hands, using my mouth as eagerly as he used my tits.

"Fuck, Andrea," he hissed. "Watching you swallow my cock while I fuck your tits is so horny."

I moaned around his prick as he continued to use me. Then he started talking dirty. Really dirty.

"You filthy little cock-sucking whore," he snarled, hips jerking. "I'm gonna paint your face with cum. You'd love that, wouldn't you? You want my load dripping from your lips and tits?"

I pulled back just enough to speak, letting saliva drip from my chin as I gasped, "Do it, you big-pricked bastard. Cover me in it, treat me like the cum-hungry slut I am."

His entire body shuddered.

"You fucking slut. You've been dreaming of this as much as I have, haven't you?" His voice cracked, desperate now. "All that teasing is just a sham… You want me to mark you. You want me to own you."

"Damn right I do," I said breathlessly, our eyes locked in combat. I pressed my tits tighter around Daniel's shaft, my tongue flicking the spongy dome as he pumped his cock through the valley of my breasts. "Don't you dare hold back."

He didn't.

With a roar, he yanked his cock from my tits and stood over me, hand furiously stroking his length. I tilted my face up, licking my lips, grinning like the sinner I was. "Give it to me," I cried.

His head fell back, chest heaving. "Fuck… Andrea, I’m cumm…”

Hot spunk flew from his prick and landed across my cheek and lips, thick and forceful, trailing into my hairline. I gasped at the heat, but opened my mouth wider, hungry for more. The next rope splattered across my nose and chin.

"Give me more," I panted, loving every second of it.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he gasped, eyes screwed shut as he pumped more seed from his balls, the thick white goo painting my face and boobs. Finally, panting hard, he bent his knees and rubbed the head of his still-hard cock into the slick cleavage I held up for him. One final stream oozed from the tip, seeping warmly between my breasts.

When he finally stopped, he was grinning like a man who'd just won the lottery. "You… fucking… look like a goddess," he said, brushing my hair back, sticky strands clinging to my forehead. "A filthy, cum-covered, beautiful goddess."

Smirking, I licked the final drop from his tip and popped it into my mouth. Cradling his aching shaft, I greedily cleaned the slick tip.

"Jesus, Andrea," Daniel breathed, eyes wide. "You're a true cumslut."

I giggled, watching the goo glisten under the harsh kitchen lights.

"And you're a mess-maker," I replied, looking down at my cum-covered chest. "You've never done this with Donna?"

"Hell no. She says it's undignified." He paused, eyes drinking in the sight of me. "But fuck me, Andrea… you wear it like a crown."

"She doesn't know what she's missing," I said, scooping a thick glob of cum from my cheek and slowly rubbing it into my breast. The slick warmth made my nipples harden even more. "The best skin cream a woman can get," I said, licking my fingers clean, relishing the saltiness.

I stood, hips swaying as I tugged my sweatpants down my hips, letting them puddle at my ankles. "But I'm not just here to let you cum all over my face, Daniel," I said, voice low and teasing. "Mama needs to cum now."

Climbing onto the kitchen worktop, I perched on the edge and slowly spread my legs wide. Leaning back on one elbow, I slid my hand inside my soaked knickers, fingers slipping over my slick folds.

Licking my lips seductively, I beckoned to him. "Come on, Mr. Martin, it's time you put your big mouth to good use."

He tried to act casual, shifting lazily toward me, but the hard, proud cock swaying outside his sweatpants told the real story. Despite having just cum, Daniel's prick was still rock solid.

The anticipation had my nerves buzzing as he knelt between my legs, and my spine tingled as his warm breath and rough stubble brushed my inner thighs. I tested a leg on his broad shoulders, and with slow, deliberate care, felt him trace his tongue along the length of my slit through the thin, sodden lace.

I whined softly, lost in the sensation, and instinctively began rubbing my clit in tight circles. Daniel's fingers pressed hard into my thighs, holding me still as his tongue flicked over my drenched folds. Then he covered my fingers, still buried beneath the small triangle of cloth, with his mouth and blew hot, moist air. The heat coursing through me nudged my orgasm ever closer.

Slowly, my soaked underwear disappeared, pulling deeper and deeper between my swollen labia, soaking up every drop of my arousal until I begged Daniel to pull the offending garment aside so I could feel his tongue for real. But it didn't happen. No matter how much I writhed, how much I ground my hips against his face, how much I tugged his head harder against my cunt, Daniel refused to remove my knickers. I was on the point of no return, but Donna's husband seemed reluctant to push me over the edge. 

My fantasies, vivid and desperate, had always included Daniel driving me wild with his mouth, but this slow, teasing reality was crushing my hopes. Frustrated, I decided to take charge.

"Daniel," I said, my voice commanding yet soft, "I need to feel you inside me."

As he stood, Daniel smiled, a bit too innocently for my liking, and obediently walked towards the dining room. As he stretched out on the carpeted floor, his huge erection pointing, like a proud flagpole, invitingly to the ceiling, I moved towards him like a hungry lioness.

In my mind, I was planning to sit on his face, and after removing my sweats and knickers, I planted my feet firmly on either side of his head, and stared down at his confident smile.

"I really want this, Baby," I purred, sinking slowly onto my haunches.

Anticipating my move, Daniel reached out for my ass. For a split second, I hesitated, caught between impulse and control.

I'd fantasised for years about sitting astride someone's face, gripping their hair, pulling their tongue into my dripping sex until I lost control, climaxing hard with my juices running down their smug face, but seeing Daniel's cock twitching, waiting for me to mount him, I started doubting myself.

If I carried out my original intention, then he'd have no choice but to make me cum with his mouth; however, being honest, I needed something more profound, more substantial than a tongue inside me. 

I made my decision. 

Lowering myself along Daniel's body, I reached between my thighs to pull my soaked gusset aside, just as the swollen head of his cock brushed my slick folds.

A shiver of raw lust sizzled down my spine and flared all the way to my toes as my juicy lips slid slowly along his thick shaft. Wanting more, I ground my hips in a slow, tantalising circle, feeling Daniel's engorged manhood press against my cunt.

A low rumble escaped his chest.

I leaned forward, gripping his chest hair, presenting my erect nipples to him.

Daniel didn't hesitate. He took one nipple between his teeth and bit softly. The sharp, electric jolt shot from my chest straight down to my wet, hungry core, and I pushed my loins backwards. His length slid between my pussy lips, slick with my arousal, and this fake penetration, combined with him feasting on my tits, sent me moaning in pure need.

Daniel's hips jerked instinctively, betraying that he was struggling just as much as I was to hold back, so I began gyrating my hips in slow, sensual motions, up and down, swirling in tight circles, making sure his cock stayed wet, but not letting him slip inside.

"Are you sure you don't want to be unfaithful?" I whispered huskily into his ear, grinding my cunt onto his length.

Reaching between us, I took hold of Daniel's cock, admiring again how soft, smooth skin covered rock-hard steel, and pressed the swollen mushroom head firmly against my clit. Electric sparks coursed along my nerves, causing involuntary spasms as slick, clammy sweat trickled down my spine.

"That feels so fucking good," Daniel moaned beneath me, his voice rough and low. "I want to fuck you."

"I know, lover," I whispered, my voice thick with need. "I want you so bad, it hurts."

Reaching behind, I cupped his balls in my hand, feeling the weight and heat.

"And from where I'm sitting, it feels like you've got plenty more spunk for me. Now why don't you fill my cunt with your thick cream?"

With a slow, deliberate motion, I slid my pelvis forward, letting the tip of Daniel's cock slip momentarily between my wet lips.

I hovered above him for a moment, our bodies connected by the smallest of margins, secretly craving the rush of him sliding deep into me, but determined to win this battle of wills. So with every fibre of my body screaming at me to let Daniel have me, I raised my hips—barely.

"Are you ready to be unfaithful now?"

He nodded.

I couldn't take it anymore. Holding Daniel's spongy helmet between my cunt lips, I smoothly shifted my hips and felt him slide inside me. His cock disappeared from sight, and when his prick was completely inside of me, I ground my mound against his pelvis.

"Oh, God."

The moment my clit brushed against his wiry pubic hair, I came. It wasn't a crashing wave type of climax, but more of a rippling surge, coaxed by the sheer stretch of him, the delicious friction of something I'd only imagined. My thighs trembled as I ground down on him, breathless and dazed.

Daniel was grinning up at me like the smug bastard he was. "You're such a shit," I muttered, my voice ragged. "If your cock didn't feel so good, I'd be out that door already."

But I wasn't. I was riding Daniel's erection with purpose now. I planted my hands on his chest, leaning forward just enough to offer him my breasts. He grabbed them and roughly began kneading them as if making dough, sending sparks racing straight down my spine. I whimpered, grinding harder.

"You feel like heaven," he rasped. "I've waited so long for this, Andrea…"

"Then stop holding back," I whispered, voice gruff with need. "Give it to me. Fill me with cum. I want to feel every drop."

I felt his hands move, one gripping my backside while the other drifted lower, his fingertip exploring my twitching arsehole. I held my breath.

"Do it, Daniel," I murmured, biting his ear. "Finger my arse, I love that."

Slowly, carefully, his slickened fingertip teased, then pushed past my sphincter, and I groaned, shifting against him, driving us both to the edge.

We moved like animals, desperate and unashamed — the wet, rhythmic slap of skin, the groans, the scent of sex thick in the air. When Daniel finally came, he came hard, pulling me down onto him as his seed surged deep inside me. I felt the heat of his release, wave after wave, scorch my insides, filling me to the brim. Daniel's body continued jolting uncontrollably, shooting even more spunk inside me, which I couldn't handle, and feeling the hot, creamy substance trickle down my thighs was more than enough to tip me over the edge again.

I shattered with him, this time with the force of a typhoon. I gasped and moaned, while my legs trembled uncontrollably. Muscles tightened while everything inside me began melting into white-hot bliss. As I shivered involuntarily, my body curled instinctively around him, clutching his vastness as the storm raged through me. As the last throes of Daniel's orgasm ebbed away, he threw his arms around me as I lay atop him, and he held me tightly, while his cock throbbed powerfully inside my body. 

For a long moment, we lay tangled, hearts pounding, his breath hot against my neck. I barely noticed the mix of heat and slickness leaking from between my thighs. All I knew was that after years of imagining this moment, it had been worth every wicked second.

Then the guilt came crashing in, swift and unrelenting.

For all the aching, all the longing, for all the times I'd dreamed of this, the realisation that I didn't belong here came rushing home. I wasn't supposed to be here to have my way with Daniel; I was here for Donna, my best friend, who trusted me.

A sick weight settled in my gut, and I climbed off Daniel without a word, the connection between us breaking too easily, too cleanly, like the snapping of a fragile thread.

"This shouldn't have happened," I said quietly, not looking at him as I reached for my underwear. 

I could feel his cum seeping down my thighs, warm and damning, and I pulled up my knickers in a clumsy attempt to staunch the flow, as if that could erase what we'd done. "It can't happen again."

Daniel didn't argue. He just sat up, elbows resting on his knees, eyes on me as I dragged my sweater over my head.

"Sure, Andrea," he said with a nod that felt more like a challenge than an agreement. "Whatever you say."

I could feel his gaze on my back as I gathered the rest of my clothes. He didn't move, didn't stop me, but I could sense it — the ache, the protest he didn't voice. That silent tug-of-war neither of us had won.

Five minutes later, I stood by the door, our awkward goodbye sealed with a hug that lasted too long and not long enough. I stumbled out into the night and climbed into my car. My knickers were still wet, clinging to my skin, a cruel reminder of everything I'd tried to leave behind.

Inside the car, I caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror. My reflection stared back, hollow-eyed and haunted. I looked away.

The tears came quietly, tracing hot, salty paths down my cheeks. I slumped forward, resting my forehead on the steering wheel, hands trembling where they gripped the leather. The shame was real. The sorrow, too. But I wasn't crying because I told Daniel it couldn't happen again.

I was crying because I knew that was a lie.

It would happen again. Maybe not tomorrow, perhaps not next week, but eventually, I'd come crawling back, needing the fantastic sex like a drug I couldn't quit. I'd whisper apologies into Daniel's neck, ask him to forgive me for being stupid, and we'd fuck, desperately, hungrily, enjoying the sexual release we both sought.

It wouldn't stop there. These things never do. And eventually, like all affairs, ours would be discovered. The secret would blow open.

Harold would demand a divorce and take with him the life I'd so carefully built. Donna — sweet, generous, trusting Donna — would cut me out of her life forever. And Daniel? Maybe he'd promise her it was a one-time mistake. Perhaps she'd believe him, and maybe she'd forgive him.

But none of that mattered right now. All I knew, all I could admit, there in the dark, shaking behind the wheel of my car, was that I wasn't ready to stop, because… God help me, I planned to enjoy Daniel's cock for as long as I could.