Just Work Stuff

This story took place a few years ago. Right near the beginning of covid.

For my girlfriend Rachel and I quarantine had turned our apartment into a pressure cooker. Days bled together, marked mostly by work-from-home deadlines and fucking. Lots of fucking. At least three times a day, sometimes more. Trapped inside, nowhere to go, nothing much else to do. When even that wasn't enough for her, when she got that restless, hungry look in her eyes that I couldn't satisfy anymore, she'd bring out "Michael".

Her dildo. A big, veiny, purple rubber cock. I didn't mind at all. Watching her ride it, hearing her moan as she fucked herself senseless with it... yeah, that usually got me hard enough to go another round myself.

One Saturday, maybe a month deep into lockdown, was particularly intense. We spent the entire day naked, migrating from bed to couch to kitchen counter, fucking whenever the urge hit. She was insatiable, riding me until I was raw, sucking me dry, demanding more. By sunset, I was utterly drained, muscles aching, cock sore. We collapsed into bed together, and flipped on Tiger King like the rest of the world at the time. I didn't even make it through the opening credits. One minute Joe Exotic was ranting, the next I was dead asleep.

I woke up later, disoriented, the bed shaking beneath me. Not violently, but rhythmically. I was on my side, facing her. The only light came from the muted glow of the TV, casting long shadows across the room. Enough light to see her.

She was on her back, knees pulled up high, legs spread wide open. Michael gripped tight in her right hand. She was fucking herself with it, shoving the thick purple head deep into her cunt, her hips lifting off the mattress with each thrust. Her other hand was clamped onto her left nipple, pinching and pulling, twisting the already hard peak.

Jesus.

I lay still, watching. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Low whimpers escaped her throat with every inward stroke. Even over the TV's low murmur and her own choked sounds, I could hear how wet she was. That slick, slapping sound as the rubber cock slid in and out of her dripping pussy. My own cock started to thicken, pressing against my thigh. Hard, instantly. But I didn't move, didn't make a sound. Didn't want to break the spell.

Her moans grew louder, less inhibited, pitching higher as she climbed. Her hips bucked faster, meeting the relentless rhythm of her hand. She wasn't just holding the dildo now; she was pounding it into herself, fucking herself with a desperate intensity.

"Oh god... oh fuck... oh god... oh fuck..." she panted, the words broken, breathless.

Then, a long, low grunt tore from her throat. Her whole body went rigid, back arching violently off the bed, toes pointed. Her cunt clenched visibly around the thick shaft of the dildo. She shuddered, a series of violent jolts racking her frame. Cumming hard. I watched, mesmerized, as the waves washed over her.

When the shudders finally subsided, she let out a long, ragged sigh, her body collapsing back onto the mattress, slick with sweat. She whimpered softly, a final aftershock rippling through her as she slowly pulled the dildo out. The wet suction sound echoed in the quiet room.

She lay there panting for a moment, eyes closed. Then I heard her whisper, so low I almost missed it, "Fuck... still need more."

Her eyes fluttered open and found me watching her in the dimness. She didn't look surprised. Didn't look ashamed. Just... needy. Her hand reached across the space between us, fingers closing around my already throbbing cock, squeezing hard.

A jolt went through me. Her touch was electric. Suddenly, she shifted, rolling towards me, her mouth finding me in the dark. Hot, wet, sloppy. She took me deep, swallowing me down, her tongue working magic. I groaned, burying my fingers in her hair. She sucked harder, gagging slightly, then let my cock slide free just long enough to rasp, "I need this."

Before I could respond, she pushed me flat onto my back, straddling my hips. No warning, no hesitation. She guided the head of my cock to her slick entrance and slammed herself down onto me, taking my entire length in one swift, greedy motion.

"Fuck!" I gasped as she started riding me, hard and fast, her movements frantic, almost desperate. Her tits bounced wildly, nipples hard and dark in the gloom. I grabbed her hips, trying to match her pace, but she was setting it, grinding down on me with a ferocity that stole my breath. She looked down, her eyes locked on mine, hair falling around her face, sweat beading on her upper lip.

"I love your cock," she moaned, the words raw, guttural.

That broke something in me. I surged my hips upward, meeting her downward thrust, slamming into her deep. We found a brutal rhythm, fucking like animals, the bed frame banging against the wall. Neither of us could last long like this. It was too intense, too raw.

"Gonna cum," I groaned, my balls tight, vision blurring.

"Yes," she gasped, riding me even harder. "Cum inside me. Fill me up. Please, fill me."

Her plea, the desperation in her voice, sent me over the edge. With a final, driving thrust, I emptied myself deep inside her, roaring her name. At the exact same moment, I felt her inner muscles clamp down hard around my cock, her body convulsing as she came again, crying out, her orgasm milking the last drops from me.

She collapsed onto my chest, trembling, her breath coming in ragged sobs. I held her close, stroking her damp hair, my own heart hammering against my ribs. We lay like that for a while, tangled together, the only sounds our harsh breathing and the mindless drone of the TV. Eventually, we rolled apart, exhausted, and fell back into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

I woke the next morning to the sound of the shower running. The space beside me was empty. Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains. As I stretched, pushing myself up, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text message notification lit up the screen.

Normally, I wouldn't even glance at it. Her phone was her business. But something... maybe the intensity of the night before, maybe just quarantine boredom... made me reach over. I picked it up. The screen showed a preview: a message from "Richard Boss."

Okay, work stuff. I was about to put it back down. Then I saw the actual words of the preview.

"Did you use your dildo again last night? ????"

Ice water flooded my veins. What the fuck? I stared at the words, my mind struggling to process them. Her boss? Richard? He was... older. Mid-forties, maybe early fifties. White guy with a bit of a gut hanging over his belt, and thinning hair. Built like maybe he played football twenty years ago, but those days were long gone. That guy? Asking about Michael?

My thumb hovered over the screen, wanting to unlock it, to see more. Then the shower shut off. Shit. I quickly put the phone back, exactly where it had been, and rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding.

She walked out of the bathroom a minute later, a towel wrapped turban-style around her head, her naked body glistening, droplets of water tracing paths down her skin. Her big tits jiggled slightly as she moved, her ass round and firm. I felt an automatic stirring in my groin, a familiar heat. But this time, it felt... tainted. Wrong.

I bit my lip, watching her move around the room, toweling herself off. She caught my eye and saw the bulge in my boxers. A slow smile spread across her face.

"Is that for me?" she asked, her voice husky.

My throat felt tight. "Always," I managed to say.

She crawled onto the bed, straddling my lap, and immediately took my cock into her mouth. She gave amazing head, always had. Skillful, and enthusiastic, knew exactly how to use her tongue, her lips, and the back of her throat. Usually, it drove me insane. Today... today I felt detached, watching her, the image of that text message burning behind my eyes.

It didn't take long. Her mouth was too good. Just before I came, I pulled back, stopping her.

"Get on your knees," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "Doggy style."

She didn't question it. Just scrambled up onto the mattress, presenting her ass to me, her back arched, looking back over her shoulder with a playful smirk. I got behind her, but instead of entering her right away, I buried my face between her cheeks, breathing in her scent -- soap and woman. My tongue darted out, tasting her. I ate her out from behind, lapping at her clit, sucking her folds, my fingers digging into her hips. She moaned, grinding back against my face, pushing herself onto my tongue.

I kept going until I felt her start to tremble, her moans turning into high-pitched whimpers. Just before she could climax, I stopped. Pulled back, climbed onto the bed behind her, and shoved my hard cock deep into her wet, waiting cunt.

She screamed, coming almost instantly, her body convulsing around me. I pinned her down, holding her hips firmly, and started fucking her hard and fast, pounding into her without mercy. My thrusts were brutal and angry. Each slap of my pelvis against her ass felt like... something. Revenge? Possession? I didn't know. I just fucked her.

As I felt my own orgasm building, she cried out again, coming for a second time, her moans loud and unrestrained. I couldn't hold back any longer. I pulled out just at the last second, my cock spasming, and shot my load all over her smooth, round ass cheeks. Thick ropes of cum coated her skin.

We both lay there panting, catching our breath. After a minute, she pushed herself up and headed back to the shower.

The second the water started running again, I snatched her phone. My hands were shaking slightly. I unlocked it -- I knew her passcode, she'd never bothered to hide it -- I was about to open the messages when I stopped myself. I realized if I opened the message she would know I'd seen it. I forced myself to put her phone down and laid back in bed. She got out of the shower a few minutes later. I saw her check her phone and smirk. I mentioned to her that I'd heard her phone go off while she was in the shower.

She checked her message and said, "Just work stuff."

With that we left the bedroom and had breakfast together. The rest of the day was uneventful. After breakfast, she did the dishes while I made our bed. We binged Tiger King and just hung out around the house. We had just put on a random movie and not long after I noticed she'd fallen asleep. Once I confirmed she was asleep I reached over and grabbed her phone

and went straight to her messages. Richard Boss. The conversation was right there.

Him: Did you use your dildo again last night?

I held my breath, as I scrolled down to see her reply. There it was. Sent just after she got out of the shower the first time.

Her: I did ???? Came hard thinking of you but it wasn't enough so I jumped on my boyfriend's cock and came again.

My stomach twisted. Thinking of HIM? While she was fucking herself? Then me?

Him: Fuck. Wish it was my cock you jumped on.

Her: When we get back to the office I promise ????

Him: Can't fucking wait. Need that tight cunt.

Tight cunt. Bile rose in my throat. I scrolled up, needing to see more, needing to know how long, how much. It didn't take long to find the start. About a month before quarantine hit. The first non-work message was from him.

Him: Can't concentrate at all right now. Still thinking about lunch. Can't believe that happened. Haven't had my rod sucked like that in years. Fuck, you were amazing!

Her reply? Just a single devil emoji: ????

More messages followed. Mostly work stuff, interspersed with blatant arrangements. "Meet me in my office." "Need you ASAP." "Lunch?" Often punctuated with eggplant emojis, devil emojis, and water splash emojis. It looked like they were fucking once or twice a week. In his office. During lunch breaks.

One of the last exchanges before lockdown:

Him: I have something I need you to take care of.

Followed by a picture. I clicked on it, my heart pounding. It loaded. Richard. His thick, pale cock, standing hard at an angle against his round, hairy belly. It looked... big. Thick. Bigger than mine? A weird mix of anger and... something else... churned inside me. Jealousy? Curiosity? I stared at the picture, disgusted and fascinated.

I kept scrolling. Since lockdown started, the dynamic had shifted. He was constantly asking her to use the dildo, and send him pictures. Videos sometimes. And she did. Fuck, she did.

Pic after pic. Her tits pushed together. Her ass bent over. Close-ups of her pussy, fingers spreading her lips. Some were taken right after we'd fucked, her cunt glistening, swollen, still dripping with my cum. Sent to him.

He sent pics back. Jerking his fat cock. Close-ups of the head. Videos of him cumming, sometimes onto printouts of the pictures she'd sent him. His messages were pathetic and needy. "Wife doesn't want sex anymore." "Miss your pussy so bad." "Need to feel how tight you are again."

I scrolled and scrolled, feeling sick, feeling... hard. My cock was painfully erect in my boxers. My hand found its way down there, fingers closing around the shaft, stroking absently as I read their filthy exchanges, and saw the proof of her betrayal laid bare.

She stirred beside me on the couch where we'd ended up after breakfast. I froze, snatching my hand away, quickly locking the phone, and placing it back on the coffee table. She mumbled something in her sleep and settled again.

I looked at her, curled up, looking innocent. Peaceful. My girlfriend. The woman who sent pictures of her cunt dripping with my cum to her boss. The woman who promised to let him fuck her as soon as the office reopened.

A wave of cold anger washed over me, followed immediately by a surge of raw lust. I pulled the throw blanket off her, exposing her naked body. Admired her curves, her smooth skin, the way her breasts rose and fell with each breath. Then, moving slowly, and deliberately, I climbed on top of her.

I pressed the head of my cock against her wet slit. She was almost always ready, even asleep. But tight. Always so fucking tight. I pushed gently, easing myself in inch by inch. It took a few slow, careful pumps before I could slide all the way inside her.

I started fucking her slowly, deliberately, drawing myself almost completely out before sinking back in deep. Her body accepted me passively. After a minute or two, her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at me, blinking, a sleepy, confused expression on her face.

I didn't say anything. Just kissed her hard, silencing any questions before they could form. Then I picked up the pace, fucking her with a steady, driving rhythm. She responded instantly, kissing me back, her hips rising instinctively to meet my thrusts.

We fucked in silence, the only sounds our breathing, the wet slap of our bodies colliding. I watched her face, searching for something. Guilt? Awareness? There was nothing. Just pleasure, building in her eyes.

We came together, a simultaneous, shuddering release. I collapsed beside her, rolling off, breathing hard.

She snuggled against me, resting her head on my chest. "Wow," she murmured sleepily. "What got into you? So intense."

I stared at the ceiling, my arm around her, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Feeling the cold knot of betrayal twisting in my gut.

"Just looking at you," I lied, my voice sounding hollow even to myself. "Seeing you lying there next to me. You're so fucking sexy."

She smiled, a soft, contented sound, and snuggled closer, falling back asleep almost immediately.

I lay awake long after her breathing evened out, her phone dark on the coffee table across the room. I hadn't told her I knew. And I wasn't going to. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But I knew one thing for sure. I'd be reading their messages again. Soon.