Confessions While You Fuck Me

Mark sits in the dark kitchen, elbows braced on the table, foot tapping against the tile. The only light is the glow from the fridge. The clock says 1:37 AM. She is supposed to be back hours ago.

When the door clicks open, he doesn't move. He watches her silhouette slip in, keys jingling, a soft hiccup of laughter under her breath like she's trying to pretend she's not drunk.

She turns and freezes when she sees him. Her purse slips from her shoulder, landing with a muffled thud.

Vanessa looks like every man's wet dream gone a little too real.

Her hair is undone, that rich, soft wave he loves now falling wild around her shoulders. Strands stick to her neck, damp from sweat or maybe someone's breath.

Her lips are pink, too pink, a little swollen. There's a smudge of mascara under one eye that just makes her look more raw.

The blouse she's wearing is one he's seen before, soft and loose, but tonight it's half-tucked, the top button undone, a faint bruise peeking out near her collarbone. Her skirt is tight around her hips. The hem rides up just enough to flash the curve of her thigh when she shifts.

She smells like her perfume, but underneath is something muskier, sharper: sweat, cheap cologne, a man's skin.

Mark's jaw tightens. His eyes drag over her legs, the mess of her hair, the guilty flush on her cheeks.

She tries to play it off, brushing a hand through her hair, flashing that little grin she's used on him since they were twenty.

"You're up," she says, voice light, but her eyes flick away too quick. "I didn't think you'd still be awake."

The silence hums between them, heavy, like the air just before a storm.

Vanessa shifts her weight from one heel to the other, brushing her skirt down her thigh like she can smooth away the truth.

Mark stays planted in the chair, arms folded across his chest. His foot taps once. Twice.

"Where were you." It's not a question. It's a dare.

Vanessa's mouth opens, then closes again. Her eyes dart to the clock behind him, then back to his face.

She shrugs, but her shoulders are tight.

"Just out. We went to the wine bar on 6th, the girls and I. You know."

Mark's eyes flick down to that dark smudge on her collarbone, half hidden by her loose hair.

He tips his head, voice low.

"You get that drinking wine with the girls?"

She flinches. Her hand lifts, fingers brushing the spot like she just remembered it's there.

"It's nothing. I... I think someone just bumped into me, that's all."

He lets out a sharp laugh, but it's humorless. His eyes drag down her legs again, the skirt hitched too high, the faint imprint of a seatbelt buckle on her thigh.

"You look like you got fucked, Vanessa."

She freezes. Her lips part, like she wants to spit out another excuse, but it dies before she finds it. She crosses her arms tight across her chest, as if that'll hide the flush creeping up her neck.

Mark doesn't move, still planted in the chair, arms folded, foot tapping steady on the tile. He watches her from across the room, eyes dragging over every wrinkle in her skirt, every smear of lipstick she didn't bother fixing.

He doesn't blink. Doesn't say another word.

He doesn't have to.

The kitchen feels too still.

Vanessa stands there, arms tight across her chest, fingers digging into her skin like she's trying to hold herself in. Mark sits in that damn chair, hasn't moved an inch, his eyes pinning her to the floor.

His voice is low. Heavy. No shouting, just enough to make her chest tighten.

"Tell me the truth, Vanessa. Don't lie to me," Mark says.

Her mouth opens but nothing comes out. She drags her nails over her sleeve, picks at the hem like it'll save her.

Finally, her eyes dart up, wide, wet, lips parted.

"... We made out," Vanessa whispers.

She rushes it, like if she spits it out fast, it won't stick to the walls.

"He kissed me. I kissed him back. It was just stupid, we were drunk, it didn't mean anything."

Mark's jaw ticks. His foot taps once, the sharp thock echoing off the tile.

His eyes drop to the wrinkled skirt, the messed hair, the smudge at her collarbone.

"And?" he says.

Vanessa's lips part, but nothing comes out at first. Mark doesn't move. His eyes drag down her body, the messy hair, the smudge at her collarbone, her skirt twisted at the hip like it's been grabbed by hands that weren't his.

He leans back in the chair, arms folded tight, voice low, almost mocking.

"Hmmm. Just a make out, huh?" he says.

His eyes flick up to hers, hold there, flat and unblinking.

"You look like that from a little drunk kissing?"

She flinches. Her shoulders curl forward, hands squeezing her arms like they might keep the truth in.

"... No..." Vanessa breathes.

Her voice is so small she almost chokes on it. She stares at the floor. Her breath comes out shaky.

"... He ate me out."

It lands like a slap. Shame floods her face. Her lashes lower, but not fast enough to hide the pulse at her throat. A tremor shivers up her thighs. She shifts her legs, pressing them together like she can hide the warmth building there.

Mark doesn't say anything. He just watches her, foot tapping steady, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ache. The silence between them hums, thick and sharp, like a wire pulled too tight.

Vanessa keeps her head down, hair falling over her cheek as she stares at the floor. Something tugs her gaze up, slow, guilty curiosity she can't stop.

Her eyes flick to his lap. The way he's leaning back in that chair, arms crossed, his legs spread just enough.

She sees it: the hard shape pressing against his sweatpants, thick and heavy, no hiding it now.

She freezes, breath caught in her chest. A tiny, strangled sound slips out, not quite a word.

Her thighs squeeze together. Heat blooms under her skin, the same shame that flushes her cheeks drips down between her legs.

Mark notices her eyes drop, follows her line of sight. He shifts, a twitch like he's about to cover himself, but he doesn't.

Something flickers across his eyes, that flash of understanding that makes his jaw tense.

He pushes his palms against his knees, leans forward, stands up. The chair legs scrape the floor behind him, the sound makes her flinch.

He doesn't say a word at first, just closes the space between them in two slow steps.

Vanessa stays pinned to the spot, breath shallow, eyes darting from his face to that thick outline straining his sweats.

He stops inches from her, so close she can feel the heat rolling off him. His hand comes up, not to cup her face or hold her jaw, but low, rough, sliding under her skirt.

His fingers find the lace, soaked. He presses in, dragging the damp fabric aside, slipping two fingers through the heat.

"You're wet," Mark says.

His voice is flat, but the gravel under it says more. He feels her clench around his fingers, feels the slick coat his knuckles.

"Is that from the fuck?" he asks.

Vanessa's breath catches. Her whole body goes tight. Her eyes flick up, wide, lips parted.

"What... what fuck?" she stammers.

Her voice is tiny, trembling, a half-lie dying in her mouth. She tries to step back, but his other hand hooks her hip, keeps her there.

Mark's jaw flexes. His thumb presses harder, the wet sound of his fingers dragging through her pussy makes her knees shake.

"Hmmm. Don't lie to me," he growls.

He leans in, his mouth close enough to feel the heat of her shaky breath.

"No one eats pussy like yours and leaves it at that," Mark says.

His words split her right open. Shame prickles across her chest, but her hips rock into his hand, helpless.

He drags two fingers deep, the stretch makes her gasp, the word stuck on her tongue.

Mark's thumb circles rough over her clit. She squirms, breath coming out in broken moans.

"You did get fucked, didn't you?" he says, voice low and sharp.

Vanessa's breath hitches. She bites her lip, eyes fluttering. She gives the tiniest shake of her head, a yes hidden in the heat of her shame.

Mark growls low in his throat, fingers dragging deeper.

"Where?" he demands, leaning in so close she feels his breath.

She gasps, her body trembling around his hand.

"Yeah... on... on his back seat..." she moans, the words falling out like a dirty secret she can't hold in.

Her hips jerk, a soft moan spilling out, shame cracked open by the drag of his knuckles inside her.

"Oh god... Mark..." she whimpers. He doesn't stop, fingers driving faster, thumb circling her clit until her legs start to shake.

Her breath breaks into tiny, helpless gasps but her eyes stay wide, nervous, not fully sure if this is punishment or if he wants every filthy detail. The fear that he might hate it and stop, or worse, love it and want more, makes her whimper even harder.

Mark's fingers drive deep one last time, dragging a soft, broken moan from her throat, then he yanks his hand away, wet with her slick.

His eyes lock on hers, dark, hungry, something dangerous under the cold.

He grips her hip, spins her, pushes her back into the chair he just stood up from. The wood scrapes the tile. She gasps, hands grabbing at the arms to keep steady.

Before she can even catch her breath, his hands shove her skirt up, rough, impatient. Her panties snap tight around her thighs as he drags them aside, baring her dripping pussy in the harsh kitchen light.

She starts to say something, a whimper, a protest, maybe a question, but it melts into a tiny, choked gasp when he frees his cock from his sweats. Thick, flushed, so hard the tip drags against her inner thigh.

Her eyes flutter, lashes wet, mouth parted, cheeks burning. She looks wrecked: hair a mess, blouse half open, legs trembling, slick dripping from her slit onto the seat under her.

Mark doesn't give her time to think. He grips her hip, lines up, and sinks in hard. The stretch knocks the breath out of her. Her fingers curl tight around the chair arms.

"Oh... oh god..." Vanessa gasps.

She squirms under him, a low, shameful whimper slipping past her lips. The confusion flickers in her eyes but under it, the heat blooms like a bruise, raw and unstoppable.

Mark's hands dig into her hips. He drags his cock back, then slams in again, each thrust sharp, angry, claiming.

"Where was your friend while you were getting fucked?" Mark growls.

His voice is rough, low, every word punctuated by the wet slap of him burying himself to the hilt.

Vanessa's eyes flick open, half-dreamy, half-afraid.

"She... was getting fucked too..." she moans

Mark lets out a dark sound, a laugh that never reaches his eyes. His grip tightens, the chair creaks under them.

"Oh really?" he says.

His hips snap forward. She cries out, hips jerking under the force.

"Yeah... Hannah was with... with two guys behind the truck... further down..." Vanessa gasps.

Mark groans, the sound raw, torn from somewhere deep. His cock drives into her harder now, each thrust jolts her hips, her moans slurring into helpless gasps.

"So you went with him alone?" he growls.

She nods, words spilling between breathless moans.

"Yeah... I was just letting Hannah have her two cocks she wanted..." Vanessa whimpers.

His hand slips down, thumb pressing her clit, forcing her hips to roll up to meet every thrust.

"Did he fuck you hard?" Mark snarls.

Her voice cracks, a whimper that turns filthy at the edges.

"For... for a bit... but he didn't last long..." she breathes.

Mark grunts, his hips pick up pace, the sound of slick skin and her breathless cries filling the kitchen.

"Did you cum?" he growls.

She stares at him, eyes wide, shame and arousal blurring together. The word comes out like a guilty gift.

"Yeah... I did..." Vanessa breathes.

"Hard?" Mark asks.

She bites her lip, the next words slip out half moaned, half confessed.

"Yeah... he... he railed me hard enough... made me cum..." she whispers.

Mark snarls, hips slamming into her, the chair rattling under the force. She gasps, her thighs slick and open, her pussy clenching around him.

"Oh god... Mark..." she moans.

Mark's hand tightens on her throat, his mouth close to her ear now, breath hot, words rough and low, like he's scared to want it but can't stop.

"Did you beg him for it?" he growls.

His cock slams deep, the chair creaks under them. Vanessa's moan catches in her throat, breaking on the squeeze of his fingers at her neck.

"No... I... I didn't beg..." she gasps.

She gasps when he thrusts deeper, voice cracking as her hips jerk up for more.

"He... he had me in doggy style... on the seat... lifted my skirt..." she whimpers.

His hips snap forward, every word she spills makes him harder, rougher. The sound of slick skin and her strangled whimpers echo in the kitchen.

"Did you want it?" Mark asks, voice rough.

She shudders, her eyes flutter half closed, breath hitching.

"I didn't plan it... but when he touched me I... oh... I couldn't stop..." Vanessa confesses.

His thumb drags hard circles over her clit, her pussy milking him. His voice cuts through her gasps, a low growl curling under every word.

"Where was his hand? On your mouth?" he demands.

She whimpers, her lips tremble.

"Yeah... he... he covered my mouth... when I moaned..." she whispers.

Mark grunts, the sound raw, twisted, his hips pounding faster, driving her back into the chair.

"And your friend? She was taking two cocks while you got bent over?" he snarls.

Vanessa's moan turns filthy, desperate. Her nails scrape the arms of the chair, legs wide open for him.

"Yeah... she... she was on her knees... taking one in her mouth... the other fucking her from behind..." she gasps.

Mark's breath hits her neck, a dark, savage sound. His hips snap harder, the slap of skin so wet and sharp it drowns out her gasps.

"Did he cum inside you?" Mark growls.

She shakes her head, words spilling fast and breathy.

"No... he pulled out... came on my back... said my pussy was so good... tight..." she breathes.

Mark snarls, teeth grazing her shoulder, hips pounding so deep her legs tremble.

"Bet you loved that. Bet you loved coming home full of another man's spit, huh?" he growls.

Vanessa's eyes roll back, her pussy clenches, a broken moan bubbling up.

"Oh god... Mark... I... I came so hard... I couldn't help it..." she whimpers.

His hand slides from her throat to her jaw, tilts her face up so she has to look him in the eye.

"Say it again," Mark demands.

"He... he fucked me... bent me over... came on me... left me messy for you..." Vanessa whispers.

Mark's cock pulses, hips driving faster, rough and deep. Her voice turns soft, dreamy, filthy, each word makes her wetter, the chair slick under her thighs.

"And now you're... you're fucking me to it... god, you're so hard... inside me... while I tell you how I let him use me..." she gasps.

He growls, hips snap one last time, burying himself balls-deep as her pussy clamps down, tight and hot, milking him. A ragged moan tears from his throat as he spills inside her, thick, hot, betrayal and arousal mixed up in every pulse.

Vanessa's breath shudders, her legs spasm around his waist, her lips parted in a soft, fucked-out whimper.

She looks at him, eyes wide, lashes wet, shame and something raw shining under the kitchen light. The last words fall out of her in a hush, a soft, dirty surrender.

"I'm yours..." she whispers.

Mark stays buried inside her, her pussy milking every last pulse of him. Her breath comes out ragged, her lashes damp, her mouth soft and open like she wants to apologize but can't find the words. She tries to catch his eyes but he's staring right at her ruined pussy, his cock twitching deep, their mess leaking out around him.

His thumb drags over her jaw, forcing her to look up, voice low, dangerous, almost a growl.

"I know there's more," Mark says.

She flinches, her lips tremble, the heat between her thighs fluttering all over again.

His hips roll once more, slow but deep, enough to make her gasp.

"Next time," Mark growls.

His fingers slide into her hair, tugging just enough to bare her throat.

"I'm gonna need every filthy detail," he says.

He leans in, his breath hot against her ear, the promise cuts her open all over again.

"While I fuck this tight pussy until you can't keep a single secret from me," he murmurs.

Her answer is nothing but a shaky, helpless moan, and that's all he needs.

Vanessa's spread out on her back on their bed, black lace panties shoved halfway down her hips, bra straps slipping off her shoulders every time she arches up for more.

Her hair's a messy, dark halo on the pillow, lips slick with spit and gloss, parted as she pants out these filthy little giggles that make Mark's cock twitch.

He kneels between her thighs, that cock fat and heavy in her fist, his other hand buried deep in her pussy, three fingers now instead of two.

He moves them slow, deep, grinding his thumb over her clit until her thighs jerk every time he hooks just right. She's soaked for him, sheets under her ass dark with wet. She giggles, half-gone, breathless, each dirty confession making her hips buck like she's begging him to fuck the truth out of her.

"Tell me. Who else you gave this pussy?" Mark growls, voice low and dark.

Her lashes flutter. Her nails dig in tighter at the base of his cock, spreading his pre-cum all over cock as she strokes him slow. She moans, eyes catching his, wicked and dreamy.

"Want a sweet one first? One that'll make you feel good?" Vanessa teases.

His thumb grinds down on her clit. Her gasp cracks into a needy whimper.

"Yeah. Sweet. Who else got you, slut?" he snarls.

She hums, thumb tracing the thick vein up his shaft, spreading that juice where she wants him to feel it.

"The boy at the gym. Nineteen. That poor thing used to stare at my ass every time I bent over to squat. Couldn't help himself. I'd arch deeper just for him," she purrs.

Mark's jaw ticks. He shoves his fingers deeper, knuckles kissing her g-spot until she moans.

"Dirty bitch. Go on," he growls.

"One day I catch him alone, push him back on the locker bench. Tell him to pull his shorts down and fuck me. He's so nervous, hands shaking, dick bouncing when it pops out. Didn't last at all. Came inside me moaning 'Miss.' I walked out dripping his cum down my thigh, baby..." she giggles, breathless and wicked.

Mark grunts. Hips jerk forward into her fist. His breath rumbles against her neck, all teeth and threat.

"Of course he did. You give him some pussy like this, he's gonna bust. Bet you were so tight on that little virgin cock," he growls.

Her giggle melts into a needy moan. She rolls her hips down on his hand like she's showing him exactly how she rode it.

"Yeah, baby. You should've seen his face when I bent over for him. He didn't know where to put his hands," she says, voice dripping.

She drags her nails up his cock. Her pussy clenches tight around his fingers.

"I was so wet. I pushed my ass back, forced him deeper. He was whimpering, Mark -- couldn't even hold out. Blew inside me so fast like he'd done something special," she moans.

Mark's laugh is dark, low, mocking her.

"Poor guy. Was he even big?" he sneers.

She giggles, then moans when he crooks his fingers.

"Small. Hard for me, but nowhere near enough. Didn't stretch me one bit. Didn't fill this greedy cunt like you do," she breathes.

She bites her lip, eyes half-lidded, squeezing the head of his cock just to feel it throb for her.

"Didn't even push me open, baby. I had to grind back just to feel something. His cum was dripping down my thighs before I even left the locker room," she purrs.

Her nails scrape the vein up his shaft. Her pussy squeezes down on his knuckles like she's starving for the real thing.

She giggles again, wetter now, voice sticky. She strokes him harder, nails gliding slick over his crown.

"Well, the next one had length though," she says, all teasing heat.

Mark's brow twitches. His thumb circles her clit faster, makes her jolt.

"Who?" he growls.

"The delivery boy. Remember him? He pulled up the driveway, eyes locked on my tits like he'd never seen a pair before," she giggles, moaning when his fingers twist.

She laughs, filthy and breathy, the sound making Mark's cock jerk in her hand.

"I leaned in and said, 'You know you can have it if you just ask. I'm not gonna say no if you wanna bend me over in the back of that van,'" she purrs.

She bites her lip, hips lifting, fucking herself on his fingers like she's showing him how that boy had her.

"He stares like I just offered him his first taste of heaven. He just nods. I crawl in the back, bend over a box, spread my ass wide for him. He gets on his knees first, tongue all over my pussy from behind," she moans.

She shudders. Her lashes flutter.

"Wouldn't stop licking me. Kept telling me how sweet my pussy tastes, how my ass looked bouncing back on his face. Made me so fucking hot," she breathes.

Mark grunts, voice all gravel in her ear.

"Then he gave you that dick, huh? Stretched you nice?" he snarls.

She giggles, squeezes him tighter, smearing pre-cum all down his shaft.

"Fuck, yeah. Long cock. He had to back up just to line up that head. I said, 'Damn, you've got a long dick...' Wasn't thick, but so long, baby," she says, voice soft and filthy.

Her pussy pulses around his fingers. The wet sounds are obscene when he pumps them deeper.

"He fucked me slow, deep strokes, tried to hold his load back like it mattered. Kept whispering how tight I was. How he'd never fucked a slut like me," she moans.

She rolls her hips, her breath catching when his thumb presses that spot that makes her cry out. She drags her fist up his cock, teasing the thick head.

"Your cock's getting harder, Mark. You love this, don't you? Love that your wife's a dirty whore for young cock," she breathes, giggling when she feels him twitch.

Mark snarls, low and mean, voice curling hot in her ear.

"Yeah. You've been a filthy hotwife, huh?" he growls.

He drags his thumb over her clit, feels her gush slick all over his knuckles. She lets out a cracked moan, eyes flicking down to his cock throbbing in her hand.

"You're soaked too, baby. Fuck... I should stuff this big cock in your cunt," he growls.

She giggles, rolls her hips up, the mess dripping down her thighs.

"Yeah... do it. Stretch this greedy pussy. You know I love cock more than anything," she moans.

Mark pulls his fingers out, lines the fat head up against her sloppy slit, pushes in slow and deep. A rough growl tears out of him when she clamps down so tight.

The slap is wet and heavy as he drives in, her legs wrapping around his hips, bra strap slipping all the way down her arm as she lifts her tits for him.

"Mmmm... that delivery boy fucked you slow, huh?" he snarls.

Her laugh melts into a gasping moan. Her nails dig into his forearm while he fucks her with a hard, steady grind that makes her squeal.

"Mmm, yeah... so slow. So deep. Acting like he'd own my pussy. Holding his cum like he was something special," she moans.

Mark's thrusts snap harder. The headboard smacks the wall with every punishing slam.

"Bet he begged to stay buried in that slut hole," he growls.

Her pussy grips him like a vice. She throws her head back, giggling through a ragged moan.

"He did. Begged to stay inside when he came. But you know me, baby... I was already thinking about the next cock," she pants.

Mark snarls, hips snapping rougher, each thrust pounding out a wet slap that echoes off the walls. She's a wreck under him, tits bouncing out of the lace, voice splintering into breathless giggles.

He leans in, mouth close to her ear, his voice low and dark.

"So that delivery boy, long dick, huh?" he growls.

She moans, squeezes him tighter with her pussy, just hearing it makes her hips roll up for more.

"Mmm... yeah... long... slow... but..." she whimpers.

His laugh rumbles out, mean and teasing. He drags his thumb down her cheek, smearing sweat across her jaw.

"But what? Didn't fill you, did he? Not thick enough for this sloppy cunt..." he snarls.

She gasps, the shame and the rush twisting together until she's giggling through every moan.

"N-no... not thick... just long. I could've taken more, baby..." she moans.

He grunts, thrusts rougher, the wet slap echoing. His next words come out like a dare.

"Yeah? So tell me, you ever get it thick? Thick and long, huh? Who stretched this greedy pussy the way you really want it?" he demands.

She bites her lip, lashes fluttering when his cock drags over that sweet spot that makes her toes curl.

She moans when his hips slam into her, her nails scratch down his chest, her giggle a breathy mess.

"Two black guys. At soccer practice with their kids," she breathes.

She laughs again, embarrassed but soaking wet, her pussy fluttering around him.

"I was just helping the kids, Mark... giving instructions, bending over in my tight shorts. I didn't think they'd really say anything," she giggles.

Mark grunts, his voice rough in her ear.

"What'd they say?" he growls.

She bites her lip, her hips roll, milking him deeper.

"Came up after. Told me I was hot. I thanked them, teased, 'Bet you say that to all the moms...'" she says.

She giggles, then her voice drops to a hush.

"One of them looked me dead in the eye, said, 'Not all the moms look fuckable like you. You'd be a dream fuck,'" she breathes.

Mark growls, his hand fists her hair.

"And you just let them?" he snarls.

She shivers, her thighs squeeze around him.

"You know me, Mark. I love dick. I told them maybe they should find out," she whispers.

He snarls, his cock jerks inside her, the slap of wet skin louder every thrust.

"They followed me back here. Two big black cocks. Didn't even waste time, they bent me over this bed, pulled my shorts half way down..." she moans.

She gasps, her breath catching when he slams deep.

"One in my mouth, the other pounding my pussy. They kept Switching. I was dripping. I swear they had me bouncing like a toy," she breathes.

Mark's breath tears out of him, his hand tight on her hip, forcing her to take every inch.

"Both at once. Fuck..." he groans.

She giggles, that soft, filthy sound.

"Mmm, yeah. One bent me over and fuck me so deep and hard, my cheek clapped so loud.. The other stuff my mouth with his cock, made me swallow him til I gagged," she says.

She arches, her voice goes soft, dreamy, like she's still there.

"The tall one pinned me against the wall after, lifted my leg, fucked me so hard I thought he'd break through it. I was shaking when he stopped. Then the other just picked me up, straddled him. He bounced me in mid-air, dropping me on that cock til I screamed," she moans.

Mark snarls, his thrusts lose rhythm, every wet slap louder than the last.

"They finish in you?" he growls.

She moans, the sound raw, wrecked.

"One all over my face, dripping down my tits. The other deep inside. Filled me up so much it leaked out for hours," she gasps.

She giggles again, so nasty it makes his cock swell.

"Mmm... they said next time they'd bring a friend. Maybe they will, baby. You'd love to see that, wouldn't you?" she teases.

Mark snarls. The sound rips out of him, low and savage. He grips her hips tight, slamming into her like he's trying to pound out every cock she's ever taken.

The slap of wet skin fills the room. Her tits bounce out of the lace, her moans sharp and helpless.

"Oh my god, Mark. Pound this pussy like they did. Yes. Yes. Baby. Hit it. Hit it. Hit it," she cries.

Her nails dig into his back. Her thighs quiver, slick soaking him down to the base.

She gasps, voice wrecked, no shame left.

"You sure you don't wanna watch? Watch me get it all over again, baby?" she moans.

Mark growls, breath jagged, hips snapping rough and deep.

"Fuck... say it," he snarls.

She moans, long, raw, almost sobbing when he drives deeper.

"Oh baby. Hit it. Ohhhhhh fuck. I'm cumming. Mark. Fuck. I'm cumming," she wails.

His snarl grates through clenched teeth.

"Yeah. Bitch. Come. Come on this cock. I know you'll go fuck again, huh?" he growls.

She moans louder, the words tumble out between ragged breaths.

"Oh my god. It turns you on. I'm gonna get railed again. Come home and tell you every filthy thing. Fuck, Mark. I'm cumming, baby. Cumming," she gasps.

His thrusts get mean, cock swelling inside her, the slick slap echoing.

"How much cock this time, huh? While I'm gone... how much?" he snarls.

Her moan breaks, high, needy.

"Two. Maybe three. Four. Fuck. Maybe five. Fill me up. All of them. I'll come home dripping. Tell you every detail. Fuck me, Mark," she moans.

Her pussy leaks all over him, hot and sticky, splashing down his thighs when he pounds her deep.

"I'm gonna let them fuck me so hard. Fuck me, Mark. Beat my pussy up now. Beat it," she whimpers.

He snarls. Hips a blur, each thrust hammering her breathless.

"You fucking shit. Beating my pussy like this. Fucking dick! Beat it. You fucker. Ohhhhhh god. I'm cumming. I'm cumming. Mark. Fuck," she wails.

Mark's roar tears the air apart. His hips slam once, twice. He buries himself so deep she arches off the bed, shaking when he spills inside her, thick, hot spurts flooding her pussy while she milks him, a helpless moan stuck in her throat. Her pussy leaks around him, soaking the sheets, her breath coming in broken gasps. For a moment, there's only the wet hush of their bodies, stuck together, raw, used up.

She shivers under him, nails dragging lazy lines down his back. Her lips curl in a faint, wrecked smile.

"Mmm... you know there's always more, baby..." Vanessa whispers.

Mark grunts. He hates how true it is, hates how the thought makes his cock twitch, still half-hard inside her.

A week later...

They're at dinner, her idea. She makes him take her to that fancy steakhouse across town. She wears that little black dress he hates because everyone else loves it. No panties. Her hair curled perfect, lips slick with gloss that catches every man's eye when she leans over the table, whispering how she still tastes his cum from last time.

He's half-hard all through dessert. She giggles when she catches him glaring at the waiter who can't stop staring at her tits.

They don't even make it halfway home.

Sitting in the passenger seat, that sweet perfume on her neck, wicked sparkle in her eyes.

"Pull over," Vanessa says.

Mark grunts, knuckles white on the wheel. "What?"

She giggles, the same giggle that ruins him every time.

"I wanna suck your dick. Right here. Before we go home," she purrs.

She slips out of her seatbelt, climbs halfway across the console. Her nails pop his belt, her palm wrapping around him, already half-hard. The windows fog in seconds.

She strokes him slow, her lashes low, her voice a whisper over the wet slide of her hand.

"Mmm. You want it dirty, baby?" she teases.

She dips her head, tongue teasing his tip, a soft flick that makes his hips twitch.

"Promise you'll cum in my mouth. I'll tell you something filthy I did. One last thing..." she murmurs.

Mark grunts. He can't say no, he doesn't want to.

Her lips wrap around him, warm, wet, sucking him deeper until his breath stutters.

She hums around his dick, then pulls back, spit shining her lips, eyes glinting.

"Remember your friend's birthday? That night you left early?" she says.

Mark snarls, his hand fists her hair. "What about it?"

She slides him back between her lips, then pulls off with a pop, voice dreamy.

"I stayed after... his brother cornered me in the kitchen. Told me he'd been wanting to know if I taste as good as I look," she says.

She moans, her tongue flicking under his head, her throat open for him.

Then she pops up.

She smiles, wicked.

"He dropped to his knees right there. He ate me out standing up, one leg thrown over his shoulder. He sucked my pussy so good I was shaking, grinding on his face. I came so hard it dripped down his chin. He finger fucked me while he licked me clean, didn't stop until I was moaning like a bitch."

"Then i sucked him right there, Mark. On my knees. Dress up, tits out, swallowed every drop. You were texting me the whole time, telling me you were on your way back," she breathes.

Mark's hips jerk, he tries to pull away, but she drags him deeper, sucking him down until his dick twitches on her tongue.

"Mmm. You love it. You love knowing... filthy slut wife, huh?" she purrs.

She bobs her head slow, wet, obscene, the sloppy sound filling the steamed-up car.

Mark's breath breaks. He snarls through his teeth. "Fuck... swallow it. You want it? Take it."

Her eyes flutter. She moans, mouth stretched wide.

"Mmm. Yes, baby. Give me all of it..." she groans.

His hips jerk, she feels him throb, thick pulses flooding her mouth. She holds it, savoring it, throat working around every drop. When he's done, she pulls off slow, a tiny string of spit snapping as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

She leans up, hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes soft but wicked.

"Take me home, baby..." she whispers.

She laughs under her breath, a soft, filthy sigh that curls right into his gut.

"You know there's always one more story... but I'll always come home to you," she says.