She hesitantly grabbed her phone from her yoga pants and handed it to the imposing stud who continued to tower above her. Was she really doing this? Did this qualify as cheating? Married women shouldn’t accept phone numbers from nineteen-year-old kids!
He created a contact for himself and handed her phone back to her.
“Have a good night, Jen,” he told her before making his way to the locker room.
Bulgarian split squats, stiff-legged deadlifts, and walking lunges: she crushed the rest of her workout. Personal records were shattered, and a glow resonated from her rosy cheeks every time she took a peek at her reflection in the mirror. The second half of her workout was the best of her life.
*****
But as Jen sat on the sofa with her Kindle and the TV playing in the background, her mind continued to gravitate to the phone number that she’d received three days ago. Anthony was a college kid. He didn’t have responsibilities, commitments, or any real concerns. He had one priority just like most college boys, and that was to fuck.
Wasn’t that what she really needed, though? Just to be fucked? She always had an elaborate event planned in her mind whenever she fantasized about cheating. The guy would call her the exact names she wanted, her desire to be tied up and slapped around would be second nature to the stud, and she would leave his place feeling used but satisfied. But what were the chances that would actually happen?
The more she thought about it, the more she imagined it going horribly wrong. What if the sex sucked? Then she would just be another cheater who’d broken her loyalty to her husband for a mediocre fling. What if she wasn’t satisfied when it was over? What if she felt violated and dirty? What if that feeling never went away? What if cheating and fantasizing in the erotica she read was significantly better than experiencing an affair in reality? God, she had so many questions!
She needed a connection with someone to fool around. She wanted a guy she desired on more than just a sexual or physical level. She required a man who could get inside her head and make her explore herself, but at this very moment, she would settle for a good pounding.
She would give one last shot. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any idea what to do if this didn’t work.
10:17 PM.
The basement door opened just as expected. Heavy footsteps trudged down the steps as Tom made his way to the couch for another long night of video games. Her eyes sharpened from the dark corner of the room to watch him plop down in his seat, giddy to waste countless hours of his life accomplishing absolutely nothing.
The sound of the Xbox powering on filled the room. This was it. This was her Hail Mary attempt, and Anthony’s number would look a whole lot more appealing if it didn’t work.
“Hey, stud.”
Tom’s head quickly turned as his large body attempted to spin in his seat. “Jen?”
She slowly and sexily emerged from the shadows, dressed in a rather uncharacteristic outfit. A pair of cowgirl boots, ripped blue jean shorts, one of Tom’s old plaid shirts which she’d tied off under her breasts to expose her stomach, a backwards baseball cap, and a toy shotgun that she’d picked up at Walmart completed her sultry look. She’d googled “Call of Duty cosplay” and copied the sexiest girl she could find. She even went the extra mile with fake blood on her waist and light dirt on her cheeks. She was a sexy survivor in a post-apocalyptic wasteland that had been overrun by zombies, and the look in Tom’s eyes was one that she hadn’t seen in a long, long, long time.
He remarked, “Whoa!”
“Excuse me, stranger,” she said shyly as she strutted in his direction. She spun her plastic shotgun with each and every step she took. “Do you know where a lonely, desperate girl could spend the night?”
“This is no place for a girl like you to be all alone in the dark.”
Okay, so this wasn’t exactly her fantasy. There wouldn’t be any leashes, ball gags, or ropes; but for the first time in years, Tom appeared to at least be attracted to her. And if she could turn him on through a goofy video game fantasy, then maybe he would be more open to exploring her desires and fantasies? It was worth a shot.
“Thank you so much,” she smiled before taking a seat on his knee. “How could I ever repay you for your generosity?”
“You can get on your knees.”
Her brain nearly exploded. “What?”
“Get on your knees,” he told her again.
She slid off his lap eagerly and sank to her knees. He’d just told her to get on her knees? He never said anything like that! He was never dominant or controlling at all! Maybe he was changing? Maybe he was changing for her!?
She hurried to unbuckle his pants as he struggled to prop his hips up–allowing her to pull his jeans down. Moments later, she bobbed up and down on his cock.
She didn’t care that he hadn’t trimmed his pubic hair in God knows how long, that his disgusting wheezing noises filled the quiet basement, or that she had to dress in this ridiculous getup to turn him on. At this very second, she simply craved to pleasure a man, and that was exactly what she did.
“I’m gonna cum.”
She pulled her mouth off his cock and looked up at him, confused from what she’d just heard. “You’re going to what?”
“Cum,” Tom grunted before a spurt of semen exploded from his dick and slammed into her cheek.
She hurried to wrap her lips around his manhood to allow the rest to empty inside her mouth. How did that happen so fast? This was supposed to be a fantasy night, and it was all over in a matter of seconds!
He slouched back into the sofa, visibly exhausted. It was like they’d just finished an all-night sex marathon–except they hadn’t. A twenty-second blowjob had rendered him tired and limp.
She couldn’t even swallow. The taste from his awful diet made his semen unbearable. It was so bitter and gross. She retrieved a cup from the table next to her and spit into it before wiping her cheek with a napkin.
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