My wife, a petite and alluring woman in her mid-forties with dark hair and a passion for teaching history, had gone out for a girls’ night. When she finally came home, clearly intoxicated, I noticed the Uber driver gave an unusually happy honk as he left. She was wearing a short dress that clung to her curves.
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Later, as we settled into bed, she slowly slid off her soaked underwear. I could see they clung slightly before she peeled them away, pressing my head gently toward her now bare and inviting heat. I love to pleasure her orally, and tonight was no exception. My tongue flicked and swirled across her slick folds, tasting the salty sweetness of her desire. She was dripping wet, her juices spilling into my mouth as I focused on her clitoris, drawing waves of pleasure from her.
Her legs involuntarily tightened around my head as she reached her climax swiftly, a shudder running through her body. She then drifted off to sleep almost immediately, drunk and content. While tidying up our clothes after she fell asleep, I noticed her panties were stained with a thick residue. Curious, I checked her phone to see where she had been that evening. There, tucked away in her photos, were a series of intimate pictures—her panties around her ankles as she was being passionately taken by a man I didn’t recognize. He was clearly larger than me, and though I’m on the smaller side, the sight made me stir with unexpected excitement.
The next morning, she said nothing about the night before, waking up with a dull hangover while I still savored the lingering taste of her with him upon my tongue.