Hotpast Pt. 01

Laura rummaged through the cluttered drawer in the kitchen, looking for an old charger, when her fingers brushed against something cold and unfamiliar. She pulled it out--a cracked, ancient phone she hadn't seen in years. It was her husband Mark's old device, one he'd replaced long ago. Curiosity tugged at her, and she powered it on, surprised it still held a charge. The screen flickered to life, revealing a lock screen photo of Mark and his ex-girlfriend, Tara, smiling on some beach vacation. Laura smirked--nostalgia, sure--but then she swiped, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't.

The photo app was open, and what greeted her was a gallery of Tara in all her glory. Laura's breath caught in her throat. The first image was Tara in a barely-there black thong, her pert ass tilted toward the camera, her back arched in a way that screamed confidence. Another showed her topless, her full, round breasts glistening with sweat, nipples hard and pink, a selfie taken in what looked like a steamy bathroom mirror. Laura scrolled, her heart thudding. There were dozens of these--some clearly snapped by Mark, others Tara's own handiwork. One shot framed Tara sprawled on a bed, legs spread wide, her shaved pussy glistening with arousal, a seductive smirk on her lips as she stared into the lens.

Laura couldn't deny it: Tara was stunning. Her body was a masterpiece--curves in all the right places, toned legs that seemed to go on forever, and a flat stomach that begged to be touched. Laura understood why Mark had fucked her, why he'd kept these. She hated that she understood.

Then came the videos. The first was short, shaky--Mark's cock, thick and veined, sliding between Tara's glossy lips. Her tongue swirled around the tip, teasing the slit, before she took him deep, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. The wet, slurping sounds filled the quiet kitchen, and Laura's stomach twisted. Another clip: a close-up of Mark's fingers plunging into Tara's dripping pussy, her folds slick and swollen, her hips bucking as she moaned his name. The last one hit hardest--Tara's delicate hand wrapped around Mark's shaft, stroking him fast and firm. His cock twitched, precum beading at the tip, and then he came, thick ropes of cum spilling over her fingers, dripping down her wrist as she milked him dry.

Laura's hands trembled as she set the phone on the dining room table. Shock coursed through her, a sharp sting of betrayal--but something else, too. Her panties clung to her, damp with a heat she couldn't ignore. She was wet. Soaked, even. Her pussy throbbed, a traitor to her anger. She paced, trying to shake it off, but her mind kept drifting back to Tara's body, to Mark's cock, to the raw lust captured in those files. Guilt gnawed at her--she wasn't exactly innocent either. Hidden in her nightstand was a locked box with her own stash: photos and videos from her wilder days, relics of past lovers she still revisited when the mood struck.

She'd confront him later, she decided. Let him explain himself when he got home. But the phone sat there, taunting her. Minutes ticked by, and her resolve crumbled. She grabbed it, sank onto the love-seat in the living room, and opened the gallery again. Her breath hitched as she flipped through the images--Tara's perfect tits, her wet cunt, Mark's hand buried inside her. Laura's thighs clenched. She was dripping now, her yoga pants sticking to her skin. Her clit pulsed, begging for relief.

Almost without thinking, her hand slipped beneath her waistband. Her fingers found her clit, swollen and sensitive, and she rubbed slow, firm circles. The phone trembled in her other hand as she replayed the video of Tara jerking Mark off. His cock glistened, Tara's hand moved with practiced skill, and Laura's pussy ached with emptiness. She slid two fingers inside herself, gasping at how easily they sank into her wetness. Her walls clenched around them, desperate for more. She hit play again, watching Mark's cum erupt over Tara's hand, and fucked herself harder, her thumb grinding against her clit. The pressure built fast--too fast--and she came undone, her body shaking, hips jerking as waves of pleasure ripped through her. Her moans echoed in the empty room, loud and unrestrained.

Panting, she dropped the phone onto the cushion beside her. Her fingers were slick, her yoga pants a mess. She'd confront him still, she told herself, wiping her hand on a throw blanket. When Mark walked in hours later, the phone sat in plain sight on the dining room table. His eyes widened, but before she could speak, he cut in.

"Well, I found your old stash years ago, so..."

Laura froze, mouth open. "What?"

He shrugged, setting his keys down. "Your box. The pics, the videos. I've known for a while."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, her voice quieter now, less accusatory.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "I didn't want you to think I was some creep. I... I look at them sometimes. Watch you. It's fucking hot, Laura. I've jerked off to them more times than I can count."

She stared at him, then laughed--a soft, disbelieving sound. "If you're a weirdo for that, then I'm one too." She hesitated, then leaned closer. "I found your phone today. Sat right there on the love-seat and... got myself off. Couldn't help it. The hand stuff--watching her stroke you until you came--it killed me."

His eyes darkened, a flicker of lust replacing the embarrassment. "For me, it's your mouth," he said, voice low. "That video of you sucking that guy off, his cock pulsing in your throat as he came. I've never seen anything sexier."

Heat flooded her again. She stood, disappeared into the bedroom, and returned with her old phone. She unlocked it, scrolled to the video he'd described, and hit play. They leaned over the table together, watching. On the screen, Laura's lips stretched around a thick, throbbing cock, her tongue teasing the underside as it twitched and spurted into her mouth. Mark's breathing grew heavy beside her. She glanced down--his work pants strained against a growing bulge.

Her hand slid over it, squeezing lightly. "You weren't lying, were you?"

He smirked, eyes still on the screen. She didn't wait for more. She dropped to her knees, parting his thighs, and tugged his pants open. His cock sprang free--fat, hard, already leaking at the tip. She wrapped her lips around him, mimicking the video, sucking slow and deep. His groan vibrated through her. She pulled back just enough to murmur, "Would you want to watch me suck someone off like this in person?" Then she dove back in, taking him to the hilt.

The question broke him. His hips bucked, legs trembling, hands gripping the chair as he exploded. Hot cum flooded her mouth, thick and salty, and she swallowed every drop. Standing, she grabbed her water bottle, took a sip, and met his dazed gaze.

"I've thought about it," she said casually. "Finding someone--maybe a friend--to jerk you off right in front of me. It's been a fantasy for years."

His jaw slackened, but the spark in his eyes told her he wasn't opposed. The air between them hummed with possibility, a silent promise that this wasn't the end of their story. Part two was coming--whether they planned it or not.