Wife Comes Home Used by Her Ex

The keys hit the bowl by the door, and Conrad looked up from the couch. It was nearly one in the morning. The lamp was low. His phone lay face-down on the cushion, ignored. He had waited up for her. Cassidy came through the door like the night had put its hands all over her. She was twenty-eight, and the proof sat on her skin: messy dark hair half fallen from its clip, lipstick smeared past the corner of her mouth, cheeks flushed a deep heated rose. Two fresh hickeys darkened her neck above the open collar of her blouse. The blouse itself was buttoned wrong. Her short skirt clung to one inner thigh with a faint, unmistakable shine.

Conrad was thirty. He didn't soften the moment with a worried question. He looked at the marks, at the wreck of her mouth, and felt his cock stir before she spoke. She didn't hesitate. She dropped her purse, kicked her heels aside, crossed the living room, and sat beside him on the couch, close enough that her warm thigh pressed his jeans. Heat rolled off her. She smelled like sweat, a cologne that wasn't his, and sex.

"You're up," she said, voice already rough.

"I was waiting. Tell me all of it."

She turned toward him and began without stalling, steady and filthy with honesty. "I went out. At the bar I ran into Reid. My ex. He's thirty-two, still thick through the shoulders, still looks at me like he wants to bend me in half. We weren't drunk. I drank club soda all night. He had one beer early and water after that. Both of us sharp. Both of us choosing it. He flirted hard and dirty. Told me my mouth still made him hard just looking at it. I told him I'm your wife and that I was coming home to you. He asked if I wanted rough, no-strings sex before I did. I said yes. Out loud. I wanted it. Then I followed him to his apartment."

Conrad's fingers closed over her knee. She laid her hand on his and kept her eyes on his face.

"The door barely shut before he had me. He made me say I wanted it again. I did. I told him to use me and send me back to you full of every detail."

She shifted closer, and her hand found the front of his jeans. Conrad was already hard, thick against the denim, and when her palm pressed him he groaned low in his throat.

"Let me give you the dirty parts," she said, breath starting to change. "He flirted until I was wet in that bar. Hand on my thigh under the table, mouth at my ear, telling me he wanted to bend me over and fuck me stupid. I didn't pull away. I wanted it. I told him yes, take me to your apartment, no strings, rough. I followed him willingly. Up the stairs, into his place, door shut."

She rubbed Conrad through the denim, feeling him swell harder under her hand.

"He kissed me mean. Bit my lip. Sucked these marks into my neck while I yanked his shirt off. Then he stripped me. Blouse open, bra down, skirt shoved up. He turned me, bent me over the arm of his couch, and dragged my panties down. I stepped out of them soaked. He ran two fingers through my pussy and said I was dripping for it."

Conrad's hips lifted into her hand. She found his zipper, dragged it down, and freed his cock. He was rigid, wet at the tip. She wrapped her fist around him and stroked, slow and firm, voice going breathier.

"He got his pants open. I looked back, watched him fist that thick cock, and told him to put it in. He lined up and shoved in hard, all the way. I moaned. He held my hips and fucked me from behind, deep and mean, couch creaking. I pushed back. I wanted every inch. He slapped my ass and I said harder."

Her thumb slid over Conrad's head. She pumped him steadily, cheeks flushed, words tumbling hotter.

"Reid grabbed my hair and pounded me until my legs shook. He rubbed my clit while he fucked me and I came on his cock, clenching, cursing, telling him not to stop. He kept driving into me, talking filthy about how wet I got, how good I still took a fucking. I loved it. I wanted you to hear that I loved it."

Conrad's hand slid under her skirt and found her panties soaked through, clinging to her swollen slit. She gasped and stroked him faster.

"He pulled out, sat, and told me to ride him reverse. I sank down facing away, hands on his knees, bouncing so he could watch my ass and feel how sloppy I was. He thrust up into me. I told him I was going home to describe every second to my husband, and he fucked me harder for it. Then he bent me over again. Deeper. His balls slapping me. I begged him not to stop. And he was close. I'm not done telling you. But I need you inside me while I finish it."

She had asked for it, and Conrad gave it to her. He caught her wrist, pushed her onto her back on the couch, and came over her. She went willingly, spreading her thighs, skirt bunched at her waist, looking straight up into his face.

"Yes," she said. "Fuck me while I tell you. I want your eyes."

He yanked her panties aside. They were soaked through, sticking to her, and her pussy was swollen, flushed, glistening with another man's spend already leaking out. The sight punched a growl out of him. He lined his cock up and sank into his wife in one hard thrust. She was hot, obscenely slick, stretched and used, and she cried out as he filled her, eyes locked on his.

"Reid pounded me from behind," she said, voice breaking as Conrad drew back and drove in again. "He bent me over his couch and shoved that thick cock into my pussy. No easing in. He fucked me like he meant to ruin me for the drive home. Deep. Fast. His hips slammed my ass, his balls hitting me every stroke. I held on and took it. I told him harder. I told him I wanted to feel it tomorrow while you were inside me."

Conrad fucked her harder at that, missionary, her knees up, his hands pinning her hips so she couldn't look anywhere but at him. The wet sound of her filled the room. Every thrust pushed a fresh leak of Reid's cum around Conrad's cock and down onto the cushion. She was so slippery he had to grip her tight to stay buried.

"Keep going," he said, rough. "Every bit of it. Look at me."

"I'm looking." Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Then he made me ride him reverse-cowgirl. I need you to hear it while you reclaim me. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap facing away. His cock was shiny with me. I reached back, held him, and sat until he was all the way in. Then I rode. Up and down, ass in his face, my pussy gripping him. He spanked me and told me to bounce. I did. I worked myself on him until I was shaking, and he grabbed my waist and slammed up into me from below. I came like that, grinding, moaning his name and yours in the same breath, because I knew I was bringing it all home to you."

Conrad's thrusts turned savage. He watched her mouth shape the filth and felt his balls draw tight. She was clenching around him, slick and greedy, taking her husband while she fed him the play-by-play of being fucked by her ex. The reclaiming made both of them wild. She rolled her hips up to meet him, panting, never breaking eye contact.

"And finally he came deep inside me," she gasped. "He couldn't hold it. He snarled that he was going to fill me. I said yes. I said do it. I wanted to walk back in here with his load in my pussy and tell you while you fucked it deeper. He buried himself and came. I felt it. Hot. Thick. Pulse after pulse, spilling into me while he held my hips and groaned. He stayed in until he was done. Then he pulled out and watched it leak down my thigh. He told me to go home to my husband like that. I pulled my panties back on over the mess and drove straight to you."

"Fuck," Conrad hissed, and drove into her faster, the couch knocking the wall. Her panties were wrenched aside, the wet fabric biting her skin, and he fucked her through the story like he meant to overwrite every thrust Reid had given her. She was loud now, meeting him, her cunt fluttering.

"He came so deep," she whimpered, eyes glassy on his. "I can still feel it. You're pushing it around inside me. God, Conrad, you're fucking his cum deeper and it makes me crazy. I'm going to come. Don't stop. Reclaim me. Use me harder than he did. I want your load on top of his. I want to be full of both of you, and I came home used on purpose."

He slammed into her, relentless, missionary and close, their breath mixing, her heels digging into the cushion. She broke with a sharp cry, pussy clamping down, pulsing around his cock as the orgasm tore through her. Conrad followed a heartbeat later, buried to the hilt, spilling hard inside his wife, thick spurts mixing with what Reid had already left there. He groaned against her mouth and kept thrusting through it, fucking his cum into her while she shook and told him yes, yes, fill me, I'm yours, take it back.

She kissed him deeply, messy with tongue and teeth, still shaking under him. When she pulled back, her mouth was wet and her eyes were filthy.

"I saved the best part for you," she whispered.

She pushed at his shoulder, guiding him down, and he went. She spread her trembling thighs wider, panties still shoved aside, and settled his head between them. His mouth met the slick, used heat of her pussy, and he tasted all of it, her sweetness, his cum, and Reid's load leaking around his tongue. She stroked his hair and held him there, hips rolling up against his mouth. She ground her messy cunt against his face and didn't let him up.

"You don't know how much I love coming home used for your pleasure," she said, voice low and mean with it. "Now eat it. Lick his cum out of your wife's cunt and don't you stop until you taste every drop he pumped into me."