Giving into the Lust Pt. 04 – The End

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I’ve become addicted to you. Your scent. Your taste. The look in your eyes when you’re particularly turned on. The feel of your hands in my hair. Your breath on my ear when you’re whispering dirty things to me. I think about you with every heartbeat. When I’m fucking my husband your face is all I see. You’re my own personal heroin. I need you in my blood. I crave the pain of the needle and the sweet release that comes after. I know I’m not in love with you; sometimes I don’t even like you very much, you’re kind of an asshole. I don’t know how you got so deep in my system. I know you feel the same way. I see it in your eyes the first time you see me when we meet. The lust. The desire. The need. The hatred for feeling the way you do and needing me so badly.

This has to end before we get sucked down into this deadly vortex and blow up two perfectly good families.

There’s no 12-step program for this. I throw myself into my family, my work, my marriage. I start writing these stories. Writing about our affair is therapeutic. Calling it an affair leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It was so much more than that. It was like matadorbet two speeding comets colliding in space. Over and over again. After time I only think of you with every other heartbeat. I find other things to masturbate to. When I am riding my husband and his hands are on my breasts and I close my eyes, it’s more difficult to picture your face and your hands.

6 weeks 4 days 8 hours and 32 minutes after the last time you pulled your cock out of me and walked away from my life I find you at my car after work, leaning up against it “Jake Ryan style.” God, I missed you. Then I am pissed that I thought that. I don’t miss you, I miss the concept of us. The fucking, the thrill, the unbelievable sex.

You pull me in for a hug. I tense. This is risky in broad daylight in my work parking lot. “I need just once more.” You whisper. I laugh at the irony of that. That’s how this started – just once. Just once turned into just a hundred. It’s a monumentally terrible idea, but my mouth betrays my brain and I agree. He hands me a motel key and gets in his car and leaves.

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry matadorbet giriş when I realize it’s the same room as the first time. Exactly the same.

You’re on the bed watching baseball. I chuckle when I think this is exactly what my husband would be doing. All men are basically the same, right? You just pick the one that annoys you the least and stick with that. I take off all my clothes and come to the bed.

You scoot to the edge of the bed and pull me between your knees. You take of my shirt and put your face between my breasts and inhale my scent. “I’ve missed this” you say.

Your finger finds my already wet slit and slowly strokes my clit. I weave my hands in your hair and moan. Your very wet finger finds my ass and begins circling it and teasing it. You tell me to get on all fours on the bed. I feel your tongue on my pussy. Licking and flicking. Your face moves up my crack and I feel your tongue between my ass cheeks. I have never had anyone do this before. I can’t breathe. Your tongue circles my asshole while your thumb rubs my clit. My legs are weak. My pussy is tingling with pleasure and anticipation. You take two fingers from your other hand and shove them in my pussy and I’m cumming so hard. I’m screaming your name. You bring your face down to lick up all of my juices as fast as you can. It’s been 6 weeks since I came like that and it will be forever before I ever do again.

You flip me over and insert your ready cock inside me. You’re moving slowly savoring every minute. Your eyes are locked with mine. We’ve never made love before; never did anything but quick, dirty, rough fucking. It’s dangerous. It’s too much. I can’t get enough. I wrap my legs around your waist to bring you closer. I run my hands all over your skin, memorizing the way you feel, the way you smell.

Afterwards we linger a little longer than we should.

“I don’t know how to quit you.” You say as we’re leaving.

“Which is why we have to.” I remind him. For a second I hesitate before speaking. “I found a way to make it a little easier on me. I wrote our story and published it online. Maybe reading it would help.”

I send him a text with a link to my Literotica page.

“I’m finishing our story and am moving on to some fiction stories. This is our last chapter.”

I kiss him one last time deeply, our tongues tangled up, trying to stay connected.

That’s the last time. So far anyway.

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