He was late again with all smiles
I wondered where he was
Meetings kept him away a while
I really have no clue what he does

His shirts smelled of perfume
It wasn't the scent I wore
A card found that said "The Playroom"
I suspect he's fucking a whore

Checking his credit card bill
Some charges I don't recognize
This makes me feel a bit ill
I wonder if he's telling me lies

What is going on here
I look around some more
I wipe away my tears
This isn't what I asked for

He brings home presents
And we have some wine
He acts like he's content
He tells me everything is fine

We enjoy each other
And make love together
I'm thinking he has a lover
He's under a bit of pressure

In the middle of the night
He's on his computer typing fast
Sitting in the dark with no light
He seems to be having a blast

He stands up and he's naked
He's stroking at his cock
The clues and this seem related
The door is not shut or locked

I go back upstairs
Pretend to be asleep
He comes upstairs and plays with my hair
He kisses me passionately and deep

Are you awake dear
I'm horny and want you
He whispers sweet nothings in my ear
Come on baby let's screw

He removes my nightgown
And caresses my breasts
He plays with my pussy mound
And sucks on my chest

He opens my legs
And licks my warm box
He wants me to beg
He's pulling on his cock

He slides his cock in
And fucks my sweet cunt
We're now skin-to-skin
I moan and I grunt

He comes inside of me
Filling my pussy with his come
He pulls out and gets on his knees
And licks my cunt until he's done

I'm not sure if he's cheating
Because we have sex every day
Something does feel deceiving
Not sure what he does when he's away

For now I won't question
What he's exactly doing
Or his computer obsession
I'll just enjoy all the screwing

*A fun poem that is fiction