I was on the verge of cumming when her pussy relaxed and it was more like fucking a dead fish. The snore told me she was asleep. Damn it. She has a habit of leaving me hanging.
I could have finished anyway, taught her a lesson and made her messy when she woke up, but spite just wasn't there. Nothing was there. And I couldn't get satisfaction with just a quick stroke anyway. I was hungry for more than that.
Not a drop of liquor in the house, so I went down to the only bar still open and had a beer. No action in this place; just a bunch of drunks and a few ugly women who looked old enough to be my mother. And then I spotted her alone in the corner. Dark eyes and lips that I drowned in as soon as I met them.
I'd never cheated on my wife before, but maybe spite was there after all, a different spite, which carried me into a taxi with this bewitching phantom. I couldn't tell you about her body, though it was nice to touch, warm and supple in all the right ways. Her eyes just dragged me in.
Then we were naked and my cock, still hard after all this, was thrusting between her lips, and I was still looking into her eyes as she stared up at me, my shaft down her throat with no resistance at all, like a pro, like I'd always dreamed. They twinkled. My hands on her breasts, her silky skin pressed against me, inside her, fucking her hard, fucking her like her eyes begged me to.
And then I woke up to my wife atop me, my semen spurting out into her, her lips smiling. Normal. Safe. Home, where I belonged.
But now I can't forget those eyes.
