I’ve shared before about my fiancée, Kate, and the tangled past we’ve woven—marked by her countless affairs. We met in high school and kept dating throughout college. During those years, unbeknownst to me, Kate was with between fifty and sixty other men. I discovered this only as college ended, and it shattered me in ways I’m still unraveling.
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Some years passed, and after moving to the city to build our careers, we became engaged. Kate insisted on keeping separate apartments until after the wedding, though the distance did little to dull the intensity between us—or the secrets she carried.
Then one day, her old college roommate Rachel came for a visit. I’d never trusted Rachel; she knew everything about Kate’s wild past and always seemed a toxic influence. Over dinner, Rachel couldn’t resist rubbing salt into the wounds, teasing about old conquests as if reliving them for sport.
“Remember Derrick, Kate?” she said with a sly grin directed at me. “He’s at a top firm in New York now.”
Kate replied smoothly, “That’s great. I’m often in New York for work.” Rachel glanced at me meaningfully. “You should say hello. For old times’ sake.” They shared a laugh, fully aware of the memories that stirred unease in me—Derrick, and his notorious virility.
The evening’s teasing finally relented when Kate noticed my frustration, and we all parted early. The next day, wanting to surprise Kate and Rachel with breakfast, I rang Kate’s doorbell. There was no answer. Walking around to the back, I caught a glimpse of a man rushing out—Steve, her team lead at work. I’d met him a few times; big, confident, and imposing.
My stomach twisted. I climbed the stairs and knocked. Kate answered, clad only in an oversized white t-shirt, her hair tousled and wild. Her bedroom was a storm of rumpled sheets and clothes.
“What’s going on?” I asked, heart pounding.
She looked away, then back at me, sighing. “Dave, I’m sorry.”
“We’re engaged,” I said softly.
“I know,” she whispered.
The room pulsed with silence before I dared ask, “What happened?”
Kate’s shirt slipped up, revealing her freshly shaved, flushed pussy—puffy and swollen.
“Do you really want to know?” she murmured.
I nodded, breath hitching.
“Steve was here last night. Rachel and I ran into him, and he stayed over. He fucked me,” she said plainly.
“Kate… really?”
“Yeah.” She held my gaze, letting the truth linger. “Most of the night. No protection—neither of us wanted it.”
Her t-shirt rose again as she parted her legs slightly, exposing her reddened, sensitive folds.
“I lost count of how many times,” she confessed. “He was rough, claimed all of me. Even my ass.”
She shifted, pulling one knee up while spreading the other leg, reclining on her elbows with her belly button ring sparkling in the light, her soaked pussy displayed without shame.
“Was it good?” I asked, voice thick with conflicted desire.
She laughed softly. “Oh god, yes. Steve’s cock is thick and long. We both came hard, many times. You like hearing this, don’t you? How he fucked me and how much I loved it?”
I stayed silent, my mind racing.
“This isn’t new,” she added. “We’ve been sneaking around for months—late nights at his office, quick moments at lunch… The sex is addictive. I can’t stop.”
Fully leaning back, legs bent and spread, her glistening pussy begged for attention.
“Do you want to see more?” she whispered, eyes flickering down at herself. “I’m sore, but still so fucking horny. I could shower first… or…”
Her words hung between us until Rachel’s voice drifted from the other room. “Okay, I’m going to get some coffee and give you two some privacy!” Kate’s eyes went wide; she quickly closed the door, then turned to me with a sultry smile. Slowly, she slid her t-shirt off, her breasts dancing free as she sauntered over to me nude.
She grasped the back of my head and pulled my face into her dripping pussy. Instinctively, I began to lick.
“Oh, that feels so damn good,” she moaned, legs spread wide to give me full access. When she pushed me down to lie on my back, she mounted my mouth, grinding and shifting. I lapped every inch—her dripping folds, then teasing her hole, back and forth—until a powerful orgasm seized her, her body trembling against me.
She collapsed beside me, breath heavy, her legs still parted, naked and exposed.
“You’re always the best at eating me out,” she laughed softly. “Let me catch my breath, then I’ll give you a handjob—and maybe some more stories.”
With that, she moved to the bed, breasts and ass bouncing provocatively, leaving me sprawled on the floor, sticky and overwhelmed by the raw heat of her confession and the taste of her indiscretions on my lips.
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