Afternoon fun with Maureen.

I sat in my car just before noon, engine off, windows cracked to let in the mild afternoon air. Her house sat quietly on the street but it would be anything but quiet once we got into the bedroom.

I watched the front door, anticipation tightening my gut. I knew Gemma was inside, knew she'd be leaving soon with the kids. Maureen had texted me the plan—Gemma picks them up before twelve, Alan wouldn't be home until six. We had hours, but I still wanted every second.

The door opened. Gemma stepped out with the kids.

She turned and called something back inside, a wave. Maureen appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame, blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She wore a simple summer dress, light blue, and flop flops. She smiled, waved, blew a kiss to the kids. Gemma loaded them into a car, buckled them in, then pulled away with a final wave. Maureen watched the car disappear around the corner, then her gaze swept the street, found my car. She gave a small nod and stepped back inside, leaving the door ajar.

I waited two more minutes, let my pulse steady. Then I got out, walked up the path, and pushed the door open.

She was right there, waiting in the hallway. I barely got the door closed before we were on each other. Our mouths met, hungry, desperate. Her lips were soft, tasted of coffee and something sweet. I pressed her against the wall, my hands roaming down her sides, feeling the thin fabric of her dress. She moaned into my mouth, fingers tangled in my hair. I kissed her neck, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. She smelled of soap and a faint floral perfume.

I love you in this dress, I murmured against her skin. She laughed breathlessly, her hands working at the buttons of my shirt.

Show me how much you love it, she whispered.

I didn't answer with words. I slid the straps of her dress down her shoulders, let it pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, naked except for her flip-flops. Her body was warm, soft in all the right places. I cupped her breasts, thumbed her nipples until they stiffened. She arched into my touch, her head falling back.

She returned the favor, undoing my belt, pushing my trousers down. I kicked off my shoes, stepped out of everything. We stood there a moment, skin against skin, breathing hard. Then I took her hand and led her upstairs.

The marital bedroom. I knew it well now. The king-sized bed with its wooden headboard, the framed wedding photo on the dresser. Alan's side was the left, nearest the door. His reading glasses lay on the nightstand if only Alan's glasses could show him his wife, a half-finished thriller facedown on the cover. Maureen always left his pillow fluffed, the indentation of his head still faintly visible from the night before.

I didn't think about that. I thought about the way her hips swayed as she walked ahead of me, the curve of her ass, the small dimples above it. She turned at the bed, eyes dark with want.

She pushed me onto the mattress, climbed on top of me. She kissed her way down my chest, my stomach, her tongue tracing a wet path. When she reached my cock, she took it in her mouth without hesitation. I groaned, my fingers threading through her blonde hair. She knew exactly what I liked—the way to take me deep, to swirl her tongue around the head, to look up at me with those blue eyes while she sucked. I let her work for a few minutes, my hips bucking involuntarily.

Then I flipped her over, spread her legs, and buried my face between them. She gasped, her thighs clenching around my head. Her taste was always intoxicating, salty and sweet. I licked her clit with long, flat strokes, then flicked it with the tip of my tongue. She grabbed the sheets, moaning. I pushed two fingers inside her, felt her walls clench around them.

Alan's pillow, I muttered against her thigh.

She reached over without missing a beat, grabbed the pillow from his side of the bed, and handed it to me. I slid it under her hips, tilting her pelvis up. Perfect. She was completely open to me, wet and ready.

I turned her onto her hands and knees. The pillow stayed beneath her belly. I positioned myself behind her, ran my hands over her ass, squeezed the soft flesh. Then I guided my cock into her pussy from behind. She cried out, a low, guttural sound. I started slow, then picked up pace. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard knocking against the wall.

Fuck, I love your cock, she said, her voice muffled against the mattress.

I grabbed her hips, pulled her back onto me with each thrust. Her ass jiggled. Sweat slicked our skin. I leaned forward, kissed her spine, her shoulder blades.

I stopped, pulled out. She whimpered at the loss, but I knew what I wanted. I pressed the head of my cock against her other hole, the tight ring of muscle. We hadn't done this before. She tensed for a second, then relaxed.

Slow, she whispered. Slow.

I pushed in, inch by inch. The tightness was incredible, her body yielding to me. She gasped, moaned, her fingers gripping the sheets. When I was fully seated, I stayed still, letting her adjust. Then I began to move, small thrusts that grew deeper. She pushed back against me, meeting my rhythm.

Oh God, she moaned.

I looked down. The pillow was beneath her stomach, her weight pressing into it. I was fucking another man's wife in the ass, in his bed, with his own pillow beneath her. The thought drove me wild. I fucked her harder, faster, my balls slapping against her.

I love this, she said, her voice breaking. I love being yours.

I came inside her ass, flooding her with heat. She shuddered, a small orgasm of her own rippling through her. I stayed inside for a moment, then pulled out, watched the mixture of cum and lube seep from her.

We collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily. She turned into my arms, kissed me softly. We lay there, talking, stroking each other. She told me about the morning with the grandkids, the chaos, the laughter. I told her how beautiful she looked when she came. She laughed, swatted my chest.

I need you again, she said after a while.

I kissed her neck, her jaw, her lips. I rolled on top of her, my cock already hardening again. She guided me inside her, now wet and ready. We made love slowly at first, deeply, our mouths never leaving each other. Then the urgency returned.

We shifted into a 69, her on top, her pussy in my face while she took me in her mouth. I licked and sucked until she came, her thighs shaking, her cries muffled by my flesh. She didn't stop, kept working me with her hand and mouth until I was close.

Not yet, I said, pulling away.

I flipped her onto her stomach again, entered her from behind. But this time I had her ride me, her back on my chest, my arms around her waist. She bounced on my cock, her head thrown back. I reached down and rubbed her clit. She came again, a wet gush spraying onto my thighs.

You squirted, I said, amazed.

She laughed, breathless. So did you, in me.

We moved again, missionary. I grabbed Alan's pillow, slid it under her ass. The pillow was damp now, stained. I didn't care. I drove into her with everything I had. The bed rocked, the frame banging against the wall. She screamed my name, clawed at my back. I came inside her for the second time, my cum spilling out of her as I collapsed.

For a long while we just lay there, tangled, sweaty, satisfied. The room smelled of sex. The bedsheets were half off the mattress, twisted and wet. Maureen traced patterns on my chest, her breathing evening out.

I eventually had to move. I had somewhere to be that evening. We showered together, the water hot, our hands sliding over soapy skin. She washed my back, I washed her breasts. We kissed under the spray. She knelt, took me in her mouth one last time, brought me to a shuddering climax with her hand and lips.

We dried off, dressed. She wore the same dress, but her hair was damp and her cheeks flushed. At the door, we kissed long and deep, a kiss that promised more.

You satisfied? I asked.

She smiled, her eyes soft. Very satisfied.

I left, walked to my car, and drove away. Behind me, she stood in the doorway, watching. I knew Alan would be home in a few hours, and she'd be there, warm and glowing, with my cum still deep inside her. And I knew she wouldn't wash his pillow until the morning.