Ava's back hit the door the second Marcus walked away. Her hand was already inside her soaked shorts before she even slid to the floor.
"Fuck… fuck…" she moaned, two fingers plunging deep into her dripping cunt while her thumb rubbed furious circles over her swollen clit. She could still smell him—musky cologne mixed with fresh sweat from the gym. That thick bulge in his shorts had been right there, swinging heavy, only inches away.
She pictured it. Pictured dropping to her knees right on the porch, yanking those shorts down, and letting that fat cock slap across her face. God, she bet it was huge. Way bigger than Ryan's cute five inches.
Her pussy clenched hard around her fingers.
"Yes… bigger… stretch me…"
The orgasm crashed through her like lightning. Her thighs shook, juices squirting out in messy spurts that soaked her panties and ran down to her ass. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, but a broken whimper still escaped.
When it finally faded, shame flooded in.
She sat there on the cold tile, fingers still buried inside herself, staring at the wet spot she'd made on the floor.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she whispered. "I'm married. I love Ryan. I'm not that girl anymore…"
But even as she said it, her hips were rocking again, chasing aftershocks. Her pussy was still fluttering, greedy for more.
She forced herself up, cleaned the mess, changed into fresh panties (already damp again within minutes), and tried to act normal when Ryan came home at six-thirty.
He kissed her sweetly, hugged her from behind while she stirred pasta, hands gentle on her waist.
"You smell so good, baby," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.
Ava forced a smile. "Missed you."
Dinner was perfect. Ryan talked about his day, his promotion chances, how much he loved their quiet life here in Oakwood. Ava nodded, laughed in all the right places, but every time she shifted in her chair, her clit throbbed against the seam of her jeans. She was soaked again.
After dinner they watched Netflix on the couch. Ryan's hand rested innocently on her thigh. She kept waiting for it to slide higher, for him to notice how hot she was, but he just rubbed small circles like always.
When they went to bed, Ava tried. She really did.
She climbed on top of him, kissing him deep, grinding her dripping pussy along his hard cock through their underwear. Ryan groaned happily, hands squeezing her ass.
"God, you're so wet tonight," he whispered, sounding proud.
Ava reached down, pulled his cock out—nice, familiar, average. She sank down onto it with a soft moan, but it wasn't enough. It never was. She rode him slow, then fast, bouncing her heavy tits in his face while her mind screamed for something thicker, longer, rougher.
She pictured Marcus again. Pictured him gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, slamming into her from behind while Ryan slept in the next room.
Her pussy clenched hard around Ryan's dick. She came hard—loud, shaking, nails digging into his chest—but the orgasm felt hollow. Empty. Like scratching an itch that was ten times too small.
Ryan finished a minute later, groaning her name as he pumped his load inside her. Ava kissed him softly, told him it was amazing, then rolled off and pretended to fall asleep while his cum slowly leaked out of her unsatisfied cunt.
She lay awake for hours, fingers lazily circling her clit under the blanket, Ryan snoring peacefully beside her.
The next morning Ryan left early for work. Ava stood at the window in just an oversized t-shirt and tiny lace panties, watching his car disappear down the street.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number:
Hey, it's Marcus. Left my spare key at your place yesterday with the package. Any chance you found it?
Ava's heart slammed against her ribs. She knew exactly what this was.
She typed back with trembling fingers:
Yeah, I have it. Come get it whenever.
Ten minutes later the doorbell rang.
Ava hadn't changed. Still in the thin white t-shirt that barely covered her ass, nipples hard and poking through, panties visibly damp between her legs. She opened the door.
Marcus stood there in a tight black tank top and gray sweatpants. The bulge was obscene—thick, heavy, hanging low against his thigh, clearly not wearing underwear.
His eyes dropped straight to her tits, then down to the wet spot on her panties. A slow, hungry smirk spread across his face.
"Damn, Ava," he said, voice low and rough. "You always answer the door like this?"
She should have lied. Should have said she was just about to shower. Instead she bit her lip, cheeks burning.
"I… I was cleaning," she whispered.
Marcus stepped inside without being invited, closing the door behind him. The click of the lock sounded like a gunshot.
He was so close now. She could smell his sweat, his cock, the raw male scent that made her knees weak.
"Cleaning, huh?" He reached out, brushed a thumb across her hard nipple through the shirt. Ava gasped, body jerking like she'd been shocked. "Looks like you're still pretty dirty to me."
Her breath came in short pants. "Marcus… I'm married…"
"Yeah," he murmured, stepping even closer, his thick bulge pressing against her bare thigh. "I know. That's what makes this so fucking hot."
His hand slid down, cupped her soaked pussy through the lace. Two thick fingers rubbed her clit in slow circles. Ava's hips bucked involuntarily. A broken moan tore from her throat.
"Oh my god…"
"You're dripping, baby," he growled. "Been thinking about this since yesterday? Been fingering that married pussy thinking about my cock?"
Ava couldn't lie. She nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth open.
Marcus pushed her back against the wall, yanked her panties to the side, and slid two thick fingers deep inside her.
"Fuck… so tight," he groaned. "Ryan not taking care of this greedy little cunt?"
Ava's head fell back, hips grinding desperately on his fingers. "He… he tries… but it's not… not enough…"
Marcus curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made her see stars. His thumb pressed hard on her clit.
"You want more?" he asked, voice dark. "You want this big dick stretching you open while your husband's at work?"
Ava was shaking, already close again. "Yes… fuck yes…"
He pulled his fingers out suddenly, making her whimper. Then he shoved them into her mouth.
"Taste how bad you want it," he ordered.
Ava sucked greedily, moaning around his fingers like a whore.
Marcus smirked, grabbed her hand, and pressed it against the massive bulge in his sweats.
It was huge. Thick. Pulsing. Way bigger than anything she'd had since she got married.
"Whenever you're ready to stop pretending to be a good wife," he said, voice low, "come next door. I'll fuck you so hard you'll forget Ryan's name."
He stepped back, adjusted his cock, and walked out, leaving Ava slumped against the wall, panties ruined, fingers still in her mouth, pussy throbbing with need.
She slid down to the floor again, hand diving between her legs.
This time she didn't even try to stop.