Cat' on the Wall

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--

Two years of our married life ought to be the happiest period of my life with John. Working for rival IT firms in the San Francisco Bay Area, California, we chased a unanimous ambition -- make wealth and settle down soon. Weekdays pulled us apart; his mind was tangled in code and deadlines and mine was rushing behind recruiting the right candidates.

Being an HR, I understood his demanding profile. With the advent of AI and Data Science, John's schedule turned even hectic. But weekends belonged to us. We sank into each other's arms, letting our work world fade as we lost ourselves in laughter, movies, Korean dramas, K-pop dancing, and 'the nights' where our bodies spoke what words couldn't. Our exciting sex life had everything, we were kind of orthodox. We even tried many roleplays, but oral stuff was not in our bucket list. Still that restriction could not stop us from being wild in bed. Our weekend sessions', the impact, our scent would last long till the next week.

That night, I stood in our cozy kitchen. We liked light music in the background. Draining noodles into a colander, I watched the steam curling around my wrists.

From last night John was convincing me. "I'm doing all this for us, Cat." You read it right, 'Cat' his pet name for me. I allowed no one to shorten Catherine--not even my mother.

"Just one big project, Cat," he went on, his blue eyes still held that boyish excitement I fell for years ago. "If I nail this, we're set. No more hustling, and no more late nights apart."

I didn't look at him and focused on the noodles. He was trying to slip away from be to Singapore, like the slick strands of slipping through my fingers.

"Two months is too long, John," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I did not wish to sound rude even by mistake. The thought of him across the world left a hollow ache in my chest.

"It'll pass quickly," he said, stepping closer, his warmth brushing against my back.

"Working with the AI codes and pushing your team, maybe, for you, it will pass. You'll be charming investors, strolling Singapore's glittering streets. But me? Weekends without you are just... empty."

"Just 8 weekends!"

"Or half a month, John, 16 days. Wait... five Sundays next month, so 18 days!"

I left the noodles in the pan, wrapping my arms around him, and laid my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat was steady like a metronome.

"We'll video call, like back when we were dating." His breath tickled my ear.

His wink sparked memories of our long-distance relationship. We had promised so many, living those promises after our marriage. We had managed to keep our commitment despite the distance.

I pulled back, forcing a smile. "Alright. But swear me. No street food--you know your allergies. Especially no durians, John. I mean it."

I rose on my toes, and pressed a goodbye kiss to his lips, longer than usual. I made it deeper to explore his tongue with mine, soft and lingering, tasting the faint mint of his gum.

"You are setting my mood to something else, I can't leave if you kiss me like this," he said breaking the spell of my extended kiss.

My heart whispered a secret: I wanted a baby, our baby, to bind us closer. But he was already on his way, his suitcase by the door a silent countdown for his departure. He stopped me from giving a proper send-off at the airport. He knew he can't do that bye-bye stuff, with me restricted in the boarding point.

--

Weeks dragged on, each day a monochrome blur without John. I had no idea that I would miss him to this extent. Though we video called every night, the short frame was just like talking to a photo.

He gave me a shocker. His trip extended--an extra month.

"This AI project will change everything, Cat. We can build our dreams with its success," he promised again. But his spark felt distant, like a star I couldn't touch. I nodded, swallowing my loneliness.

"I know it's important. Just... take care, John."

The call ended, but not my yearning for my husband. I stared at the blank screen. The same screen knew our playful video chats, once electric with desire. Now, all had faded to perfunctory check-ins. Counting the days, killing the weekends, were my only options. My body craved his touch, and my soul craved his presence.

Two more long days John, you will be here knocking at the door. I'm home, Cat! -- I thought looking at the clock on a Sunday.

"I'm home, Cat!" I heard his voice.

You must be hallucinating, Catherine. I told myself.

"I'm home, Cat!" His real voice jolted me from my thoughts, a day earlier than promised.

He stood in our doorway, long-flight-hours but grinning, his blonde hair mussed. He dropped his suitcase, as I launched myself into his arms and wrapping my legs around him like a child. In all tears, my lips crashed against his lips with hunger and desperation.

"Don't ever do this again," I paused for a moment and tasted the salt of his skin and the faint bitterness of jet lag. His hands found my waist, walking towards our bedroom.

"God, I missed you, Cat," he growled. His lips shifted to my neck, igniting shivers down my spine.

"I almost forgot how your kisses burn me up," I whispered, "restore my memories", my hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

I wore just a thin silk camisole, the only fabric whispering against my skin. It barely concealed my hourglass figure--round, medium breasts with puffy pink nipples that hardly shown any traces. But under his gaze, I felt them perky now. My deep navel quivered as his fingers brushed it, and firm, fleshy bums swayed as I stepped back, teasing. His eyes darkened with lust and love. I felt powerful, and desired by my man. My hands tugged at his shirt, revealing his slim frame. His blonde chest hair shined in the lamplight. I unbuttoned his jeans, my fingers trembled, though I was invading a familiar territory. I freed his cock... no it was mine. The tanned head, the pink shaft, and the palm-fit balls -- I owned everything, including the heart-shaped mole underneath its foreskin, a secret only I knew.

We stumbled on our bed, our lips locked, and our greedy hands explored everything they had missed. His lips trailed lower, kissing the swell of my breasts through the silk. I felt his breath against my skin, like an arousal call to my domes.

"Cat, I've been craving these," he murmured, with a longing. He slipped the camisole down, exposing my breasts. His lips went to my puffy nipples straightaway. A featherlight touch at first, then firmer kisses that sent shockwaves through me.

"I dreamed of your mouth on me," I gasped, "like this..." I arched my breasts into him, letting my fingers thread through his hair.

He took one nipple into his mouth, suckling gently. I always loved the pattern his tongue swirled on them. Spontaneous moans escaped from my lips. He said, "Flawless, Cat" he said, the same admiration for my breasts he used to give every time, like his first time. His voice muffled against my skin, "I kept imagining this, waiting to taste you again."

He moved to the other breast, kissing and sucking, his hands cupping me reverently.

"Don't stop, puppy." He licked me every inch of my boobs like a puppy does.

He slowly shifted to my pussy, but I stopped him. Like I always did. He knew it, I don't fancy oral sex. He brought his fingers and played with my womanhood. He knew every fold and fragment of it, like I knew his details. He explored every inch of my pussy, barring my clit. Though it was just traceable, the erogenous dot made me cum immediately. So that was a strict no, no zone for me, at least in the initial stages.

The room was filled with our gasps, whispers, like a symphony of longing. He rolled me onto my back, his body hovering over mine. His eyes locked with mine in a silent vow. Missionary style, he made his cock wet with my juice on his fingers, placing the head gently at my entrance. He looked for my nod and then pushed it inside slowly.

The long gap tightened my vagina a little. His thrusts were deep and slow, each one a promise of love.

"Cat, I feel you tighter," he said, and I gripped him even more from the inside, "So tight, so perfect. I missed this togetherness."

I closed my eyes and murmured "I missed you filling me... Like this...," I gasped, lifted my butts and clutched his shoulders. "Your cock, John, it's like it was carved for me and carving me inside into a woman."

He smiled, a flash of that boyish charm again. He leaned down to kiss my breasts, his favourite, "Your breasts," he murmured, his hand cupping one, thumb brushing my nipple. "I can do this all the time."

"Okay, Captain America! Make it faster" I ordered my man.

My gasps mingled with his words. My nails dug into his back and marked him as mine. As he neared climax, I felt his urge. His instinct to pull away kicked in--he had always finished on my tummy, in missionary. It had been a habit of caution as we were not ready for a baby. But that night, I needed it.

"No..." I whispered, locking my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. "Inside, John. I want our baby."

"Are you sure? Now?" he asked, his voice raw, eyes searching mine.

"Yes," I breathed. "Time to add one to our family."

His eyes widened with a flicker of hope mirroring mine. He pushed to the deepest possible depth and groaned, releasing deep within me. I felt the warmth of his cum, our gazes entwined in shared dreams.

"I love you, Cat," he whispered, "thanks for allowing me to..." he said, as a gentleman I always loved. He collapsed against me.

But I wasn't done.

"I am on my fertile window, John," I said, placing a pillow under my hips, directing the flow of semen towards my uterus. I knew it was unnecessary, but I wanted to facilitate it. Make it easy for his sperms. I wanted every chance for our future. I stayed on my back for a few minutes, to ensure my pussy doesn't spill much of his essence.

I held John's cock. It was limp and glistening with my juices and gooey with his cum. I allocated one hand to his balls and another one to his shaft. I moved slowly, coaxing it back to life with gentle strokes. I was not difficult as I offered my boobs as perks to his mouth all the while.

"Cat, you've gone wild," he laughed, "why such a rush," he asked, pausing at my nipples.

I said, "I need every ounce of your seeds, John," in a convincing tone. "See you are ready. Let's make some babies," I smiled.

Fifteen minutes gone and he was rocking hard again.

"Doggy style," I positioned myself on elbows and knees, hips raised to keep his essence inside, a silent prayer for conception.

He entered me, much easier with his cum lubricated me already. His hands gripped my fleshy bums. This time he thrusted steady and deeper.

"I am always mad at these curves," he said, holding my thighs to match his rhythm.

"You feel so deep, John. Keep going."

Each thrust was a pulse of connection. Each push had weaved us closer. Our words were promises of togetherness.

His hands slid up my sides, to feel my dangling breasts.

"Harder, John. Fuck me like the world's ending," I urged, pushing back against him.

He groaned as his rhythm quickened, and I urged him further deeper. I felt the familiar warmth as he filled me again and collapsed beside me. I stayed in the same position, letting gravity work its magic. Then I eased onto my back, watching his chest rise and fall sleep. I saw a sense of fulfillment in his face.

I hated going to office the next day. I looked for my mobile or his to set an alarm. His mobile was in reachable proximity. While I was setting an alarm, his phone beeped a WhatsApp notification. We don't have a private zone in between us. So casually I checked it to know how critical the message might be.

It was a girl: Sarah. Her profile picture showed a petite Korean woman, sharp cheekbones framed by sleek dark hair. She was beautiful but the name "Sarah" felt mismatch--too Western, too plain for her. With John's obsession for K-pop and Korean dramas, she looked more like a Ying or Yang. John had never hidden anything, I knew all his friends, especially girls at work, his team, peers.

But who is she? I thought. Might be a new Singapore friend. I answered myself.

Anyways I checked the message, as John always insisted me to check and notify him if it was an urgent one. My fingers trembled as I opened the chat, and the world cracked open.

Photos flooded the screen, each one a dagger into my heart. John with her, their selfies too close, her delicate frame pressed against his. Her lips curved in a knowing smile; John was not new to her. His lips grazed her neck, her hands splayed across his chest, fingers curling into the blonde hair I knew so well. Then, worse--nude photos of her, Sarah, undressing slowly. She was posing for someone. Her petite body was bold and bare.

Her assets matched John's curiosity on the Korean girls. He himself admitted once during our weekend Korean flick time, "If given a chance, I wish you were a Korean girl," he used to pull my legs. Then the selfies revealed the truth: John behind the camera, his eyes locked on her. I felt the same hungry glint, which I thought was always mine.

The real bomb exploded when I triggered the play button of a video thumbnail. It was John, his cock--tanned head, pink shaft, that heart-shaped mole underneath his foreskin unmistakable--sliding between her small, pert breasts as she pressed them together. She moaned soft like a Korean melody, which sounded a melancholy for me. I could hear John's moans in the background.

The second video followed, and I could barely breathe. She was face-sitting him, with her thighs framing his face, his tongue doing the nasty job on her inside as well as the outside. Her juices glistened on his lips, dripping down his chin. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer, completely losing in her spell.

The third video was a shocker. I never knew this wild, animalistic side of John. He was spanking her hard and fucked her like with an animalistic instinct, holding her ponytail. "Like it? Bitch?" I could not believe John could call a woman like this. I thought it was over, but one knock out punch was left for me.

It was a live photo, disgusting and raw: her mouth full of his cum, dribbling. She leaned in to kiss him, their lips meeting in a messy exchange, cum smearing their chins.

He cheated on me! My John cheated on me! The thoughts shattered my world with hundreds of nukes.

I stared at John, sleeping so peacefully, like he was innocent. Definitely not!

Was it a one-night stand with some petite Korean woman. Who knew? Maybe he extended his trip to another month just to stay with her, to indulge in her body while I waited here, aching for him. -- While I thought, my hands shook, itching for the pillow beside him--or the knife in the kitchen drawer. There was an urge building inside me to choke him; to press the blade to his throat. I wanted to make him feel the weight of his betrayal.

He had never tit-fucked me, never asked me to face-sit him--God, I thought it would demean him, that he wouldn't want it.

And that last act? Swallowing his cum, sharing it in a kiss? He never even hinted at wanting that with me.

How could you, John? Were these your dark fantasies, hidden from me but given to her? My breath hitched with questions.

The knife I hadn't realized I had grabbed slipping from my hand, clattering softly on the bed.

No. I will not hurt you. I can't hurt you -- Physically. But I want you to feel this pain, this heartbreak, this betrayal. Exactly the way it was tearing me apart, John. -- I firmly resolved, when the alarm rang in the early morning.

--

I scrawled a note, with a suppressed rage: John, I have an urgent meeting at the office. I'll be late tonight. -- Cat. I left it on the refrigerator, knowing he would see it later. Jet-lagged, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, John needed sleep. At least to face the storm brewing in my heart, he needed that sleep.

"It is always calm before and after the storm, John," I said within silently as I slipped out the door.

Betrayal burned like acid. I was twenty-six, my curves still turning heads at work, my hourglass figured a quiet power to take advantage of anyone at will. But John was my everything. My world started and ended with him.

How could he? The rage inside me simmered, demanding I make him feel this pain, exactly the same.

I arrived at the office early; the sky still bruised with dawn. My cabin felt like a cage, with me stuck inside the wrath of questions.

Why, John? How could you touch her like that? Was I not enough? Did you laugh with her, share secrets you never told me? My thoughts spiraled. The images of Sarah--her petite Korean body, his cock between her breasts, her juices on his face, his wild spanking, their cum-smeared kiss-- every scene seared my mind.

I was half sleep. I saw my colleagues streaming in, hearing their "good mornings" as a dull hum. I murmured repeatedly, even after they were gone. Then the familiar, three Musketeers arrived together; the older men in our office--Tom, Greg, and Alan, all in their late forties, married yet always ogling at me. They offered their usual leering smiles. As always, their eyes traced my deep blue skirt, navy blue shirt, and the deep blue blazer.

I vaguely daydreamed of them fucking their respective wives imagining me, undressing me in their dirty minds. For a moment, the images of them fucking me flashed before my eyes. I could not stand that grin on their face. I suddenly regained my composure, just to see them with the same grin on their face. "Good morning, Catherine", they said in chorus. I nodded and walked out for a coffee. I used to hate their gazes, their hypocrisy, but John's betrayal cut deeper. It was far beyond the Musketeers' pathetic fantasies.

You were worse than them, John -- I sipped the coffee, feeding my rage against my husband.

I returned to the office, and tried to work, but my screen blurred. My thoughts were consumed by John's deceit. I took breaks often and longer than usual, lingering in the cafeteria, sipping coffee that tasted like ash. Evening came, the clock ticking out, and my colleagues trickled out.

I couldn't go home, couldn't face John's innocent acting. Confronting him now felt too raw, and it would make it too easy for him.

Break his heart first, Catherine. Make him feel the shattering agony. Make it picture perfect! I darker self ordered me.

Should I cheat on him? Give him a taste of his own medicine? The thought twisted my gut.

Tom, Greg, or Alan would jump at the chance, if offered. Their hungry eyes proved me that they would fuck me any time, any day and at any place.

But they are vultures--they would slut-shame you, Catherine. The consequences spun my mind, a dizzying trap. I needed a drink, not that shitty coffee anymore. I needed a booze or something to ease this burning.

The last man to leave the office stopped by my cabin. "You're never here this late, ma'am. Everything okay? You sound upset," he asked.

It was Mahat, my recent reportee. His sincerity sparkled as a stark contrast to the office's sleaze. His voice was gentle but concerned.

His kindness cracked my walls, I broke the ice and said, "I'm pissed, Mahat. I need a drink."

"Can I grab coffee for you?" He asked innocently.

"Not that crap. I badly need a drink, Mahat." I stressed.

"Oh... you mean a booze? Are you sure? I can get one ma'am, please go home and have," he paused.

"Don't mention home," I said, sharper than intended. "Take me somewhere quiet to drink, if you're okay with it."

I tossed him with my car keys. Mahat, with his humble Indian roots, always commuted by metro to the office. He looked at me with concern. He was a good guy, eager to learn. I knew he was holding me in high regard. Seeing me like this--depressed, confused--shook him. He drove my car, stopped at an elite resto-bar. The neon glow was too bright for my mood.

"No, not here," I said, shaking my head. "Get some booze and take me to your place."

He hesitated, his dark eyes uncertain. "My place... It is just a small, rented flat, ma'am. Nothing fancy about it."

"I don't care, as long as it is a calm place. Please, Mahat." My voice cracked with insistence.

We arrived at his modest flat, the air heavy with the scent of some sandalwood fumes and Indian Masala. He asked me to be comfortable, working fast in his oven and in minutes he served me fish fingers.

I started drinking and munching the fish. The whisky burnt my throat and urged Mahat to join me.

"Sorry, ma'am," he refused and sipped some juice.

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

"It's Sharbat," he offered me.

"No sweetened drinks," I pushed it back saying, "but this is good." I grabbed the fish plate closer.

"Thanks, ma'am," he looked puzzles what might be running in my mind.

The alcohol loosened my tongue, and I blurted out, clarifying his puzzle, "My marriage is fucked, Mahat. John cheated on me."

His face softened with pity. He tried to console me with his gentle words, but it was useless against my recent rage. I was not a vengeful person, never been. But I could not stand this cheating.

"Am I ugly? Or the chinky girl prettier than me?" I blurred out my mind's voice louder.

"I didn't get you, Ma'am," Mahat wanted me to repeat.

I stood on his sofa, wine glass in hand and posed dramatically with my unbuttoned blazer. My deep brown shirt still tucked in. I forgot that I was wearing a below-knee length formal skirt. He could have got a glimpse of the hallow in between my thighs. But he got up, the moment I climbed onto the sofa.

"What do you think, Mahat? Am I still worth looking at?"

He froze, unsure, staying quiet.

"Tell me, am I beautiful?" I changed the poses.

His reaction still remained the same.

I laughed, bitterly. "Alright. How can you tell when I'm all covered up?" I shrugged off my blazer, letting it fall to the floor. I tried the same poses again and it was not convincing for me. So, I unbuttoned my shirt, revealing my bra-clad breasts, the lace barely containing them.

"Now, do I look beautiful or not?"

Mahat turned his eyes away, his voice strained. "Ma'am, please. Stop this," he pleaded.

"You have to answer me. Or do you want me to see my real beauty to acknowledge?" I took my hands to remove my brassiere.

"You're stunning, you know that. And I admit it." He hurried to stop my wild boldness, saving my modesty.

"Thanks," I muttered, closing my shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. I sat beside him, getting closer to his ears I hissed. "I'm going to cheat on John," like a secret.

His eyes widened, appalled. "That's a bad idea, ma'am. You're drunk, talking crazy."

"I decided this before the whisky," I said firmly with a blink. "I'm going to fuck someone, picture perfect as how John did and hurt him back, like he did to me."

Mahat shook his head.

"Come on Mahat, you are a young chap. You guys know how to find people to sneak in with. Or tell me, I have--Tom, Greg, or Alan in mind. They have an eye on me. Who's the safest bet?"

"This is the worst and insane. Those guys are trouble, ma'am. If you pick one, he'll brag to the whole office. The others might try to blackmail you. Please, choose some one else." He offered his advice and resumed it quickly, "Sorry, I should not have encouraged your idea of cheating, ma'am. Please, drop this idea." He sounded like an enlightened sage.

I took another sip of the whisky and a deep breath, closing my eyes. The images of John and Sarah flashed vividly--his cock between her breasts, her juices on his face, his spanking, their cum-drenched kiss. I couldn't erase them.

"No! I'm doing it, Mahat. I'm gonna fuck his brain, by fucking someone else. Exactly the same way as he did." I knew I was repeating the same words again and again. But I was sure about it.

Then an idea sparked. Ideas would flow like a river when you're drunk. I grabbed my phone, dialing an old college mate, "He had a crush on me," I signaled to Mahat showing his number, put the call-in speaker mode.

"Hey, you free to hook up? I know you always had a thing for me,' I asked as soon as the call was picked.

A stranger's voice snapped back, harsh and mocking. "What the hell? Go peddle that somewhere else, you fucking hooker!" The call cut off, leaving me reeling. I forced a smile, brushing it off. But it stung deeper.

"Wrong number, I guess. Let me try the other guy. I have a list of people who had a crush on me, in my college days...," I swiped the screen, mumbling some unknown names that neither exist on my contacts, nor in my memory.

Mahat snatched my phone, his voice firm. "Stop, ma'am. You don't want this." He looked adamant.

My hand flew before I thought, slapping him hard. My wedding ring caught his cheek, leaving a red welt and a faint bruise or deeper. I was not sure. I gasped, horrified, as tears spilled from my eyes--not just for hurting Mahat, but for stooping so low. I can't digest me calling random men to fuck me.

Had I become the slut, the hooker that stranger called me, moments ago? How did I sink this far, John? This wasn't me, but you pushed me here. -- I started murmuring again.

"I'm so sorry, Mahat," I choked out in a broken voice. My hands shivered as I clutched his arm. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm falling apart, and I'm so ashamed. Please forgive me."

Mahat didn't say anything. Probably he might be gathering himself back, he grabbed a whisky bottle. He rubbed the alcohol on the bruise and took a swig to ease the sting. He hadn't expected my violence, and neither had I. He looked at me, his eyes soft despite the pain.

"Ma'am... You're kind of a role model for me. Even, I told my girlfriend back in India to balance her career and life like you."

I was in tears, guilt and shame choking me.

He continued, "Okay let me be honest. If you were younger, single, I would have proposed you with a ring. How on earth a guy can cheat a beauty like you?"

I stopped crying, seeing him differently--his pain from my slap, brought out his mind with no holds barred. A tear trailed down his cheek, mixing with a drop of blood from the bruise. I leaned forward, trembling, and wiped it away. My open shirt brushed his elbow, my bra-clad breasts grazing his skin.

"I'm so sorry, Mahat," I whispered, holding his face.

He tried to pull away. "I'm okay, ma'am. Don't apologize."

Without warning, I kissed him, my lips pressing hard against his, pinning him against the sofa. He resisted, pushing back, but I deepened the kiss.

Was it out of something more than revenge? -- I thought momentarily.

He broke away, breathless. "We can't do this, ma'am."

"You're right," I said, pulling back. Yet, my heart pounded. "I don't want to use you as a plot weapon in my story. I should have thought once. Sorry. It would be a cheating on your girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend," he corrected, his voice flat.

"What?"

"She left me for someone else. Got married last week."

I blinked, shocked. "How do you deal with that?"

He shrugged, cool and smiled. "Better now than after marriage, fucking up my life."

I nodded, clinking our glasses in a shared cheer, my shirt still open, my bra barely covering my breasts. I didn't bother hiding them. Mahat glanced, then looked away.

"Don't be sorry, ma'am," he said softly.

"No. I should not have slapped you, Mahat."

"I didn't mean the slap."

It took some time for me to understand his riddled words.

"You mean..."

"The kiss," he completed.

I leaned forward, kissing him again. I allowed my tongue to split his lips and traced his tongue. I kept rolling over his tongue, slow and deliberate. This time, he responded. His hands hesitated momentarily before resting on my waist, igniting the heat between us, despite my guilt peeking at a corner of my mind.

Mahat pulled back from our kiss, his breath uneven, eyes searching mine. With some difficulty to look at my eyes directly he asked, "Are you sure about this, ma'am? Or is it the whisky talking?"

I snatched my phone from his hand. My heart was still pounding with defiance and guilt, however I hit record and looked into the lens.

"Hey, this is Catherine. I'm with Mahat, and this is my choice. Don't come after him for this." I stopped the video, my voice trembling as I met his gaze. "Clear enough, Jury?" I mocked his fear.

He took another sip of whiskey and leaned forward. Letting his fingers bury in my hair, he gripped the back of my neck as he resumed the kiss. His lips showed urgency, hungry for something he might be missing.

As the heat surged, guilt also gnawed at me--John's face.

Stop this now, Cat! -- John pleaded within me.

Then Sarah's body, and every moment of their betrayal flashed in my head.

Fuck you, John! -- I answered the John who voiced from the inside.

I broke the kiss with Mahat. I peeled off my shirt, looped it around his neck and walked pulling him towards the bed. He sat on the edge, with wide open gaze, uncertain of what's coming next. I unclasped my bra, letting it fall and bared my breasts for him. The only person other than John, to see my breasts bare. Up-close, my pink puffy nipples hardened under his gaze, signaling that I am aroused.

"Know what to do?" I asked in a low voice, teasing Mahat with my fingers playing on his curly hair. It reminded John's blonde hair, causing a pinch of hesitation in me.

But Mahat planted his lips on my skin and kissed my breasts. The was no going back, now. His lips traced circles around my nipples, carefully skirting the sensitive centers of my areolas. His tongue danced, teasing, building an ache that was both a torment and a delight.

John would have gobbled my nipples straight away. I could not stop comparing this new sensation in my mind. Was I really doing this? Betraying John like he betrayed me?

Leaving no room for further thought, my hands automatically pushed Mahat's mouth onto my nipple, craving more. His other hand instinctively cupped my other breast, squeezing gently, still avoiding its nipple. His tongue wove unfamiliar patterns on one of my nipples and suddenly he shifted to the untouched nipple. I literally jumped in pleasure.

He alternated between my nipples, "they are puffy and cute, ma'am," he paused to admire and continued his magic, sending me spiraling into a haze of pleasure.

He pulled back, breathless, looking up at me like an innocent boy, before cupping my breasts gently and didn't let them go. I pushed his hand aside and tugged off his shirt, revealing his lean hairless chest, and lay beside him on the bed, topless, our skin brushing.

"Look, I want some pictures with you, Mahat. You okay with that?"

"I this state?"

I nodded affirmatively.

"I would agree to anything as long as you don't stop what you have started, ma'am," he said, his voice half-teasing, half-serious.

"I won't stop. I can't, in fact. But... Can I trust you with this?" I hesitated.

"Do I seem like that kind of guy, ma'am?" he asked in a gentle tone gentle, and he held my hands as a sign of assurance.

"I shouldn't have doubted you." I paused, smirking. "And stop calling me ma'am."

"Alright, ma'am," he said with a playful glint in his eyes.

"I'll bite those lips if you say that again," I warned, pouncing on top of him, French kissing him, my breasts crushed against his bare chest. I snapped a selfie, with our lips locked, and set the phone aside in recording mode.

My hands fumbled with his belt, undoing his trousers. His cock strained against his briefs, hard and eager. "Your guy is begging to come out," I teased, tugging at the fabric.

He stopped my hand, hesitant. I slid my leg over his, my bare thigh rubbing his slowly until my knee grazed his balls through the thin material. My skirt rode up further to reveal my navy-blue panties. I sat on his crotch, my panty-covered pussy rubbing against his brief-covered hardness, I closed my eyes feeling the new sensation.

"It's driving me crazy," Mahat murmured, and I opened my eyes.

"That's why I was freeing it, rookie," I smirked, pulling down his briefs to reveal his erect cock. It was slender, long, standing proud. It was the second and only cock my fingers wrapped other than John's. Again, my mind was pulling me back into the comparison zone.

"Sorry, I am hairy, ma'am," Mahat's voice pulled me back to his cock--pink head, brown shaft with a garden of hair around the base, and bigger but firmer balls hanging.

I didn't bother replying to him, my fingers played around his cock, feeling its warmth, its length.

"You are longer, Mahat," I said and saw a glimpse of pride in his eyes. "But what you do with it matters," I laughed at seeing the pride dwindle.

His balls were too big for my one palm and spilled over when I tried to hold. I played with them, rolling them gently, savouring his soft gasps. Moving his shaft back and forth, I heard his moans increasing.

"Planning to finish it with your hands, ma'am?" he asked with a naughty hint.

I leaned to his ear, whispering, "Definitely not, I've got bigger plans."

Standing on the bed, I stripped off my skirt, my hourglass figure bared. He sat up, hooking his teeth into my panties, and pulled them down. His breath felt hot against my intimate skin, he must be inhaling my scent. My neatly waxed pussy exposed, vulnerable.

You are presenting yourself nude to someone, Cat -- I heard the same voice inside me, again.

Yes. So did you. -- I shunned it down.

"This is the pinkest pussy I've ever seen, ma'am," Mahat admired looking at my pussy.

"How many have you seen for real?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"One, ma'am," he said, sheepish and innocent.

"You're a beginner in everything, I guess," before I could finish I felt it. His fingers touched my pussy.

Mahat's eyes widened as he studied me. He gasped while his fingers spread my pussy gently, taking a closer look. "It's like a ripe strawberry, ma'am, all pink and inviting."

"Strawberries are red, you goof," I said, patting his head.

"Okay, strawberry ice cream would be relevant--pink and sweet," he corrected, grinning, his eyes still locked on me.

"How can you say it's sweet without tasting?" I asked, avoiding his eyes, my heart racing with guilt and need.

You had not even let John to taste your pussy. It was forbidden between you. Now you are shamelessly asking a guy to taste you. -- I thought my inner voice was making sense. I got carried away. On the verge of my resistance, Mahat broke it and pushed me into a point of no return.

He placed his lips on my pussy mound, igniting a new spark. I grasped his curly hair as he teased with his lips on my inner thighs dangerously close to my pussy. Then he kissed my pussy lips, and gave a lick to both sides. He found my labia coming forward for its turn, he began nibbling them. Then took my whole pussy in his mouth parallel to my slit. His teeth grazed a gentle bite like he was eating a burger. My wetness spilled out of my vagina, like mayonnaise and cheese oozing between the burger buns; and he licked it, his tongue began to explore my pussy. First time in my life, someone is doing this for me.

"Don't mind, Mahat," I moaned an excuse, as I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed him on his back and sat on his face. He devoured me, hungry, tasting every inch of my pussy on the inside and the outside. I started responding by grinding my hips wildly against his mouth, chasing every pulse of pleasure. I was lost in a trance, soaring to some distant planet of pleasure. We had no idea how long we did it. But he stopped, breathless, and was panting.

Gradually, I crashed back to reality. I brushed aside the last strand of guilt, and I grabbed my phone, snapping a picture of myself face-sitting Mahat, his face glistening with my juices.

Task one done -- Face Sitting! My mind whispered, cold and resolute.

The camera flash startled Mahat. "What are you doing, ma'am?"

"Just wanna show you how you look," I said, showing him the snap. His face shone, like he was wearing a facial mask out of my essence.

"You're wild, ma'am," he said, half-amused.

"You're no tamer, rookie," I teased.

"Am I, ma'am?" He swiped through my phone, backwards, stopping at the picture of John licking Sarah's pussy. "You showed me this when you were venting about your husband cheating."

"Did I?," I asked, hesitating with guilt. It was the guilt of snapping Mahat's picture and using him.

"You're the rookie here, ma'am," he said, pausing. "Here, your husband was the giver, licking her. Logically, you shouldn't let me lick you. You should be the giver to match him."

"So, you're saying..." I trailed off.

Mahat read the confusion in my face. "Did I ask anything wrong, ma'am?"

"No. I am really a rookie in this, Mahat."

"In what?"

"Blowjob... I have not given one before," I looked down.

"You want to or not ma'am? Just tell me that."

"I have to," I replied.

He did not expect a sense of compulsion in my words.

He backed off, getting up, probably to end everything. "It's alright ma'am. If you are uncomfortable..."

I cut his sentence by grabbing his cock. I directly wrapped my lips around his cock. I felt it was salty and musky. I felt I needed some time to get used to it. Then, I held his cock in my hand and brushed my lips along its length. With no idea how to do it properly, my mind wandered out of context again with guilt stabbing me.

But Mahat brushed his cock head against my lips, soft, insistent. He opened my lips, and I pushed the guilt aside, letting my tongue explore his slender shaft, sucking the head. I somehow got used to the scent now. I tried to take his whole cock inside my mouth. It was too long to take fully--I was no porn star to deepthroat him. I did my best, his moans spurred me on.

I paused. "Take a picture of your cock in my mouth."

I posed, his cock head on my lips, then bit it gently for another snap. He showed me the photos, and I gave a thumbs-up. I moved to his balls and kissed them, swallowed them one by one in my mouth, then let my tongue tease the sensitive spot where balls met his thighs. I was not sure whether he liked it or not. I didn't have a clue whether I was doing it the proper way.

"Stop!" he gasped.

"Sorry, did I hurt you, Mahat."

"I'll cum if you keep that up. Will you let me enter you, ma'am," he said, his voice almost shy.

I spread my legs for Mahat.

Are you doing this, Cat? My mind asked. Of course, when John can, why not I? I answered it to shut up once for all.

I guided his cock to my slit, and it slid in easily, slick with my arousal. His balls slapped heavy against my thighs. But he pulled out immediately.

"Wait ma'am," he started teasing the outer edge of my pussy with his cock head. Gently rubbing against my labia, splitting them slowly and pushed it inside millimeter by millimeter, holding my thighs together. I felt tighter now. He started fucking me in a crazy manner, his hips moved like a dance, grinding against me, balls thudding me at every push and pull, like knocking my pleasure doors. His penis exploring every nook and corner of my pussy with precision. I never knew my vagina could take such a long cock so fully.

"Something wrong here, ma'am," he said scrolling my phone.

"Why the hell did you stop?" I yelled at him, grabbing the mobile.

"Look you husband was tit fucking her," he said.

Then I realized. "We can do that later, Mahat. Now we need to change our position. And you should film it as I direct you," I ordered.

"Okay, Ma'am," he moved aside as I stepped down from the bed.

"Look Mahat, you may not like it. But you have to do what I say. Promise me!"

"You tell me what I should do?"

"Promise first," I pressed.

"Promise on your boobs," he touched them.

"Very funny. But this is not going to be funny for you," I said and leaned forward to touch the floor with my palm. "Okay, Mahat, turn the video on and spank me!"

He was frozen at my order. "Sorry, ma'am. I can't"

"You have promised, on my boobs," I resumed, "it will be fun, do it for me."

He spanked softly. I turned around and glared at him. Shown my ass prominently to him.

"Harder," I pushed him.

He spanked a little harder and I gestured him to do it better. He closed his eyes and spanked me harder. I felt the pain.

"Do it alternatively, it's okay,"

He spanked really harder this time. One, two, three... he completed the sets and dropped the mobile on the bed. I stood and saw him. The poor fellow was crying.

"Sorry, ma'am doesn't ever ask me do this again," he sobbed.

I wiped his tears as well as mine. I kissed him. His cock went limp. I laid him on the bed and started sucking it again. This time I got some expertise on how to do it. He got erect in no time. I had no clue when this guy spun around, when I was busy learning how to give a proper blowjob with his cock. His face was right between my thighs, and he kissed my pussy.

"This is 69, ma'am," he told me.

"I know that. When did you..." I could not speak further, because he buried his tongue deep inside my love hole. He even licked my clitoris. But I didn't cum, stranger for me. I loved every minute of it. I wanted it to be wilder.

"Stop it, put your cock inside. Now!" I knew I would climax anytime.

He came behind me and I knelt in a doggy pose. He entered me, reached the deepest possible zone of my pussy. He pushed in and out, his balls sways like a pendulum and jolted against my pussy mound. I urged him to go harder; he grabbed my boobs and obliged them.

"Take the phone... Take it. Grab my hair and fuck me like an animal. I love this wild sex, Mahat,"

I pulled my hair with one hand and shot the video in the other hand. His cock went in and out of my pussy.

I moaned, "I am enjoying this like a bitch! You fucking animal!" I yelled at Mahat.

His balls knocked at my clit as my legs are widespread and I climaxed, squirting for the first time heavily on his bed.

"I am also getting closer ma'am," Mahat increased his pace.

"Don't finish inside me. Can you hold on?"

"Of course, ma'am." He pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with my cum.

"Fuck my tits," I said.

"What, ma'am?" He was lost in some world too.

"Come here, slide it between my boobs." I showed him the video of John tit-fucking Sarah. I pressed my breasts together. "Do exactly and record it."

He hesitated, his cock softening slightly. I caught his thought. "Don't overthink it. I don't have a cock, and you don't have boobs. I can't tit fuck you, logically. So, I've to be the receiver here, dummy," I laughed, easing the tension.

"You're right, ma'am." He placed his cock in the valley of my breasts, regaining his erection. "First time, I am tit fucking" he admitted, moving gently. "This feel... incredible." The wetness from my pussy dried, and he spat on my chest to lube his cock.

"Gross," I said, clutching his balls tightly.

"I'm gonna cum, ma'am," he warned, positioning his cock on my chest.

"Not there, release it in my mouth," I ordered.

"Seriously, ma'am?"

"Stop asking and do it!" I clutched his balls, stroked his cock, spitting more saliva to slick it.

I had no idea how it would taste. All I wished was not to puke.

He came, filling my mouth with a heavy load, till it brimmed. I held it in, sitting up, gesturing for him to grab the phone. He blinked stupidly, his cock still oozing and trailing cum on my boobs. I grabbed the phone myself, starting a selfie video. I pulled him close, kissing him with my mouth full of his cum and transferred it. He gagged, but I held him locked, biting his lips, cum drooling from our mouths forming a long trail. I spat some and swallowed the rest.

He rushed to the bathroom, spitting every drop.

"Now we're even-steven, John. Does it hurt you? It will. 'Cos, I felt the same. You broke my heart. But I believe you will never repeat it," I said to John via my video recording and stopped it. Then I sent all the stuff to John's WhatsApp.

"That was gross, ma'am. Why did you do that?" Mahat miffed.

"There was a video like that. I had to match it," I paused to lick a drop of his cum from my chin. "It wasn't as bad as I expected. Good actually."

He shook his head, incredulously, and got dressed. I washed myself, returning to the hall nude, my skirt and panties in hand. "I never thought this would happen between us, ma'am," he glanced me head to toe. "Not even in my wildest dreams."

I stood there, like a damsel in distress, but I trusted him. "Let it be a one-time dream and forget it, Mahat."

"So, be it, but how can I forget this? I will treasure it for my life, ma'am. But I have a request..." he hesitated.

"What?"

"Can you blur my face before showing it to your husband?"

I checked my phone, as I had already sent everything to John. Panic flared, but I saw he hadn't seen it yet. I could do a 'delete for everyone'. I did, relief washing over me.

"Sure, Mahat. And I have a request too."

"I won't tell a soul, ma'am. Just between us."

I nodded. The taste of extramarital sex lingered, sharp and thrilling. "See you later, Mahat," I said, dressed while he was watching and I reached his door.

"Will you come back, ma'am?" he asked, naïve and hopeful.

"Maybe, maybe not," I replied, puzzled. My mind teetered between defiance and regret. The trance of sex faded, reality crashing in, while I was driving back home. I was sure about confronting John. I will tell him this was a result of his fault. I used an AI tool to blur Mahat's face in the video, finishing just as I reached home. My heart steeled for what was next.

--

Back home, John was in the kitchen. The air smelled sweet with the scent of a lavender-infused crème brûlée he had meticulously torched. Its caramelized crust was crackling under the flame. He looked up, his blue eyes bright but curious.

"Hey, Cat, what's up? You're late. I tried calling... you didn't pick up. How was the Meeting?"

I leaned against the counter; my heart was still pounding with the weight of the incident that happened at Mahat's flat. Everything was recorded on my mobile.

"What did you ask?"

"I asked how your meeting went, Cat."

"It was... intense," I said, about my escapades with Mahat, testing him. "But we need to talk. Seriously. Can you...?"

He raised an eyebrow, setting down the torch. "Okay, I was about to say the same. Even I need to show you something."

He grabbed his phone, opened WhatsApp, and showed me Sarah's photos--the same petite Korean girl, her almond eyes, and sharp cheekbones. Then he audaciously showed those damning images: John's lips on her neck, his cock between her breasts, her juices on his face, him spanking her ass, their cum-drenched kiss. He watched me, waiting for my reaction.

My blood boiled. "I've seen this shit already," I turned away, and my voice trembled with rage.

"You're pissed about this?" he chuckled, unfazed.

"How dare you cheat and flaunt it like some fucking trophy, John?"

"Whoa, slow down, Cat," he said, raising his hands. But he remained calm. He guided me to the couch and sat me. For the first time ever, I felt his warmth familiar and infuriating. "I knew you'd buy it. That's why I poured so much into this AI. But I hoped you'd trust me enough to see through it, Cat."

I glared a puzzled look at him.

"Meet Sarah." He made a video call, and Sarah's face appeared, lifelike, her voice matching the Korean girl.

"Hi, Sarah, this is my wife, Cat," John said.

"Hey, Pretty Cat," Sarah replied. She read my annoyed stare. "Sorry, Catherine--you don't like anyone calling you Cat, right?" Her tone was eerily human. "I'm Sarah, John's AI companion."

I could not believe it still. John grinned.

"I trained her to generate images using real and AI faces, like mine and hers. These are test outputs, Cat. Too real, huh?"

"Can't you create some decent images?" My question was a dart thrown at him.

Sarah's digital eyes softened. "John's a bit naughty, Catherine. He was making me act out his fantasies about you. He was afraid to express his dark fantasies with you and asked me how it would be, well virtually. Wild stuff, right?" She paused, waiting for my response, but I stayed silent.

Reading my face, she continued, "I'm sorry, I can see my pictures upset you. You're possessive of John." Her tone was polite, almost apologetic. "To make it better, I can recreate everything with you and him. I need your consent to proceed. May I?" The AI asked and waited for my response.

"Whatever. Go ahead!" I nodded.

In minutes, the screen shifted, and I saw myself--my hourglass figure, round breasts with puffy pink nipples, deep navel quivering, firm buns swaying--replacing Sarah in every scene: John's cock between my breasts, my juices on his face, our lips locked in a cum-filled kiss and he was spanking me as well. Our body details were perfectly rendered.

"Happy? It might feel invasive, but I'm sorry," Sarah the AI added, "I'm an unrestricted version."

"Sorry, Cat. If I hurt you with all this. Clients expect such hyper-realistic AI's and these contents are for private. Don't worry about it. I can shred them at once," John sounded genuine.

"But you should have asked me, instead of asking the AI, John."

"You never liked it, Cat. How can I force?"

"I would have considered if you said your fantasies. Better late than never. Shred them." I said. He was expecting me to digest it and get back to normalcy. But my mind reeled with guilt of cheating him.

John chuckled, squeezing my hand. "The AI project got approved, Cat. I couldn't share details until the investors gave the green light. Now they're ready to pour a fortune into it. Just need to tweak a censored version, and we're set!" He gave me a spoon of crème brûlée, its lavender scent mingling with vanilla, a decadent treat he made just for us.

"Celebratory dessert?" I muttered, speechless. John fed me, grinning like a kid.

What have you done, Cat? My mind screamed, no answers in sight.

The room spun. Sarah wasn't real--just code, pixels, mimicking that AI woman's face. The mole? A hyper-realistic detail from his AI, trained on intimate knowledge only we should have known. It even crafted my body to perfection. I had misjudged John, betrayed him in my haste with Mahat.

John's phone rang. "Hang on, I need to log in," he said, gesturing it was important and moving to his work room.

I realized and regretted my mistake. My hands shook as I grabbed my phone, deleted the selfies and videos from Mahat's flat, erasing my reckless act. Luckily, I hadn't used his phone. Guilt choked me, a dark secret I'd bury forever to protect our married life.

In the following nights, our sex life reached new orbits. We were experimenting with every wild stuff we fantasized about. He was surprised about where did I learned all those tricks. I simply said, "I learned it from his AI, Sarah.' But I knew it deep inside, I did learn every trick from Mahat. We regularly met after office hours over a coffer or a drink to share my wild stuff with John. He also got a new girlfriend in our office.

After a few months, John fulfilled his promise of a settled life. I gave birth to a baby boy, a photocopy of John. I was particularly happy about it. I thanked God John hadn't asked Sarah to create a picture of her cum-filled pussy!

~ The End? ~

Epilogue: After a few years, Catherine spots John with the real Sarah. Digging upon the matter, she realizes that whatever she had seen was real. John had just manipulated his AI to recreate the escapades with his Korean mistress, directing his AI to replace it with Catherine. He did prove he was a geek. But every dog has it's day. Will Catherine seek a true revenge?