He wasn’t the cheating type — except with me.
I have a history of being the cheating partner when it comes to long-term relationships. Many a straight and narrow, well-intentioned monogamous boyfriend/husband/etc have I led astray with my “feminine wiles.” Whoops, right? It’s not my fault I’m irresistible . . . or that know what I want and how to get it.
My best friend had been cheating on him for awhile, so I figured she wouldn’t be too mad about me taking an opportunity to get a little on the side from her man. His cock twitched despite himself whenever I was around. It’s not my fault I’m so observant, right? And guess what: I wanted it, too.
She’d been out of town last week visiting her mother and so I’d taken it upon myself to check in on him. He’s pretty much the cook and cleaning force of that household, so my motives were purely selfish. They would benefit him, too — he just needed a little encouragement to realize that!
I knocked on the door Friday night, dressed to the nines with a bottle of his favorite vodka (Tito’s of course) and some alcoholic ginger beer in hand. He got all flustered answering the door, as usual. I poured us drinks and gave him a warm, extra-long and more than a little bit grope-y hug.
He breathed nervously. I kissed his neck, then let my lips linger on his ear. As my fingers inched closer towards the bulge in his pants, I whispered for him to relax. He did — but his cock definitely didn’t.
He let out a long exhale, obviously still nervous and flustered.
“Maybe this will help you relax,” I murmured as I unzipped his pants and let my juicy lips slide around his already quickly hardening cock.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
