*Last Tuesday afternoon*

I slipped through the front door at exactly four in the afternoon, the house quiet except for Camille’s quick footsteps rushing to meet me. The moment the latch clicked shut behind us, her mouth was on mine, open and wet, tongues sliding together in messy, hungry strokes. Saliva coated our lips as we ground against each other, her hands already tugging at my shirt while mine yanked her blouse free from her skirt. We left a trail of clothes on the stairs—her bra, my belt, her panties—until we reached the master bedroom, the same bed she shared with Rob every night.

Camille had told Rob that she planned to have a quiet afternoon at work just relaxing, little did he know that she'll be relaxing with me in his wife...

Naked, we tumbled onto the sheets. I rolled her onto her back and drove straight into her slick pussy in one thrust, her legs locking around my waist as I pounded her deep and fast. The mattress creaked under us, the headboard knocking the wall. I flipped her onto all fours next, gripping her hips and slamming back inside, watching her ass ripple with every impact. She arched, pushing back to meet every stroke, her cunt gripping me tighter each time I bottomed out.

I pulled out, flipped her again, and slid between her thighs in missionary, her knees pushed to her chest so I could drive even deeper. Her juices coated my cock and ran down her crack onto the duvet. I switched to spooning, lifting one of her legs and sliding back in from behind, my hand reaching around to rub her swollen clit while I fucked her slow and grinding. She came hard, her pussy pulsing around me, but I didn’t stop. I rolled her on top, watched her ride me reverse cowgirl, her ass bouncing, then turned her to face me so I could watch her tits jiggle while she ground down.

After several positions I couldn’t resist my favorite part. I slid out, grabbed her ankles, and brought her bare feet to my face. I licked the sole of her left foot from heel to toe, sucking each toe into my mouth one by one, running my tongue between them, tasting the faint salt of her skin. I did the same to her right foot, pressing my nose to her arch and inhaling while my tongue lapped at the ball of her foot. Ten full minutes I worshipped her feet, licking, sucking, kissing every inch while my cock throbbed untouched, precum dripping onto the sheets. Camille moaned and flexed her toes against my tongue, letting me indulge completely.

When I couldn’t hold back any longer I pushed back inside her, missionary again, and fucked her until my balls tightened. I buried myself to the hilt and unloaded, pumping thick ropes of cum straight into her married pussy, filling her until it leaked out around my shaft. She lay there panting, no trace of guilt on her face, just a satisfied smile as my seed pooled inside her.

We rested under the covers, kissing lazily, my hand cupping her breast, her fingers stroking my softening cock back to life. Thirty minutes later I was hard again. I pulled her on top, let her sink down onto me, then flipped her beneath me and fucked her missionary once more, deep and relentless. I switched to doggy, gripping her hair, pounding until the wet slap of skin filled the room. I rolled her onto her side, lifted her top leg, and drove in sideways, then back to cowgirl so she could grind her clit against me. Every position we’d already used, we used again, harder, faster, until I felt the second orgasm building.

I pushed her onto her back one last time, hooked her legs over my shoulders, and fucked straight down into her until I came again, flooding her pussy with another heavy load. Cum overflowed, running down her ass onto Rob’s side of the bed. Camille lay there glowing, no remorse, just pure satisfaction that she’d been thoroughly used in her husband’s sheets, by the man she came to love.

Lying there afterward, still inside her, I felt nothing but pride. I was the man who had taken another man’s wife in his own bed, made her come multiple times, filled her twice, and worshipped every inch of her—including the feet I loved most, I just love Camille. The clock read just past seven. Rob wouldn’t be home for another hour, and I already knew we weren’t finished.