Thursday afternoon I pulled up to Zahra's massive house, the one her husband paid for with money he earned in Pakistan. The front door opened before I even knocked. Zahra stood there in a short silk dressing gown that barely covered her ass and a pair of pink sliders. Her dark hair was loose, her lips already curved into that wicked grin she always wore when she was about to cheat again.

Zahra had dropped the kids off at her parents house and told them that she had shopping to do.

She grabbed my shirt, yanked me inside, and slammed the door. Our mouths crashed together right there in the hallway. Her tongue pushed straight into mine, wet and greedy, while her hand slid down to squeeze my cock through my jeans. I could taste the mint gum she'd been chewing and the faint trace of the coffee she'd drunk earlier. She moaned into my mouth like she'd been starving for this all week.

"Fuck, I missed this cock," she breathed against my lips, already tugging at my belt. "My husband gets back tomorrow and I still haven't had enough of you."

She led me upstairs, her sliders slapping against the marble steps. We passed family photos on the wall, her smiling next to her husband and kids, but she didn't even glance at them. She pushed open the door to the marital bedroom, the one with the huge bed she shared with him every night.

The second we were inside she spun around and shoved her tongue back into my mouth. We kissed like animals, sloppy and loud, spit running down our chins. Her dressing gown fell open and I saw she was completely naked underneath, her brown nipples already hard. I grabbed her tits and squeezed while she ground her hips against my thigh.

"Get these fucking clothes off," she growled, yanking my shirt over my head. We stripped each other fast, laughing when my jeans got tangled around my ankles. She pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top, her wet pussy sliding along my stomach as she kissed down my chest.

Zahra wrapped her fingers around my cock and gave it a few slow strokes, watching a bead of precum form at the tip. "Look at this beautiful dick," she said, voice thick with lust. "My husband thinks I'm such a good Muslim wife. If only he knew how many times I've had this cock in my mouth."

She spat on the head, then took me deep in one smooth motion. Her throat opened around me and she gagged wetly, spit bubbling around her lips. She pulled off with a gasp, strings of saliva connecting her mouth to my cock, then dove back down. She sucked noisily, bobbing her head fast, her hand twisting at the base. Every few strokes she'd pull off completely and let thick ropes of spit drip down my shaft before slurping them back up.

"Mmmph, fuck yes," she moaned around my cock, the vibrations making my balls tighten. She looked up at me with watery eyes and mascara already starting to run. "I love cheating on him. I love being a dirty fucking whore in his bed."

I grabbed her hair and fucked her face for a minute, listening to the wet choking sounds she made. When I let her up she was grinning, spit running down her chin onto her tits. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and laughed.

"Your turn, baby. Eat this married pussy."

She swung around and straddled my face, lowering her dripping cunt onto my mouth. I licked broad stripes from her asshole to her clit, tasting how soaked she already was. Zahra moaned loud and started grinding, smearing her juices all over my face. I sucked her swollen clit between my lips and flicked my tongue fast while she reached back and stroked my cock again.

"Oh god yes, just like that," she panted. "My husband never eats me like this. He just climbs on top, pumps twice, and falls asleep. Meanwhile I'm down here riding your tongue like a desperate slut."

She came hard on my face, thighs shaking, pussy pulsing against my mouth. When she climbed off her juices were all over my chin and she leaned down to lick them off, kissing me deep so we could share the taste.

Zahra reached into the nightstand and pulled out the small Quran her husband kept there. She held it against her chest with one hand while she straddled my hips with the other. "Watch this," she said, lining my cock up with her entrance. She sank down slowly, taking every inch until her ass rested on my thighs. Then she lifted the book higher so I could see it clearly while she started riding.

"This is what I do when he's gone," she said, bouncing harder. "I fuck other men in his bed and hold his holy book while I do it. Isn't that fucking perfect?"

Her pussy was tight and hot, gripping me as she moved. She rode with long, rolling strokes, grinding her clit against my pubic bone on every downstroke. The Quran stayed pressed to her chest, rising and falling with her tits. Every time she slammed down she let out a filthy moan.

"Yes, yes, fuck me," she chanted. "Stretch this cheating cunt. Fill me up so when he fucks me tomorrow he'll be sliding in your cum."

We both started laughing at how ridiculous and hot that was. She threw her head back and rode faster, the wet sounds of her pussy loud in the quiet room. I reached up and pinched her nipples, making her gasp and clench around me.

After a few minutes she climbed off and got on all fours, waving her ass at me. "Doggy," she demanded. "Fuck me like the bitch I am."

I knelt behind her and slammed back inside. Zahra pushed back to meet every thrust, her ass rippling. I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard, the headboard banging against the wall. She reached between her legs to rub her clit while I pounded her.

"Harder," she begged. "Make it hurt. I want to feel it tomorrow when I'm pretending to be a good wife again."

I slapped her ass and she moaned, pushing back even harder. Her pussy was dripping down her thighs, leaving wet spots on the expensive sheets. Every thrust made a loud squelching sound that had us both laughing between moans.

"Listen to how wet I am," she said between gasps. "My husband would lose his mind if he knew his wife gets this soaked for another man's cock."

I pulled out and flipped her onto her back, pushing her legs up to her chest. Missionary position let me go even deeper. Zahra held the Quran above her head with both hands now, presenting her body like an offering while I drove into her.

"Look at me," she said, eyes locked on mine. "Look at this married Muslim woman getting fucked stupid in her husband's bed. I don't feel guilty at all. I feel fucking amazing."

Her pussy started fluttering around me and I knew she was close again. I fucked her through it, watching her tits bounce and her mouth fall open in a silent scream. When she came her whole body shook and fresh wetness flooded around my cock.

"Cum in me," she begged, voice hoarse. "Pump that married pussy full. Give me every drop."

I buried myself to the hilt and exploded, flooding her deep. Zahra moaned long and low as she felt each pulse, her pussy milking me. When I finally pulled out thick white cum leaked out of her stretched hole and ran down toward her asshole.

She reached down and scooped some onto her fingers, then brought it to her mouth and sucked them clean while maintaining eye contact. "Mmm, so much," she said.

We both burst out laughing again, the absurdity of it hitting us at the same time. Zahra rolled onto her side and draped one leg over my hip, keeping my softening cock pressed against her messy pussy.

"I should probably change the sheets," she said, not moving at all. "But honestly? I kind of want him to smell sex when he gets home. Let him wonder."

She kissed me again, slower this time, and we lay there catching our breath. Her hand found my cock and started stroking it back to life.

"Round two?" she asked with that same wicked grin. "We've got all night before he comes back, and I want to be so thoroughly fucked that I can barely walk when he walks through that door."

I was already getting hard again. Zahra noticed and laughed, rolling onto her back and spreading her legs wide, the Quran still clutched in one hand.

"Come on then," she said. "Let's make sure this married pussy remembers exactly who it belongs to when I'm being a good wife again."

We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in that bed, fucking in every position we could think of. Zahra kept the Quran nearby the whole time, sometimes holding it, sometimes using it as a surface to rest her hands while I took her from behind. She came so many times she lost count, each orgasm making her louder and more vulgar about how much she loved cheating.

By the time the sun started setting she was a complete mess, hair wild, makeup destroyed, cum leaking from both holes. She looked at herself in the bedroom mirror and started laughing again.

"I look like such a whore," she said happily. "Exactly how I should look after a proper afternoon of adultery."

She turned to me with that proud, unapologetic smile. "Same time next week? My husband travels a lot. And I plan on being a very, very bad wife every chance I get."

I left her house that evening with the taste of her pussy still on my tongue and the sound of her laughter echoing in my ears. Zahra stayed behind to shower and change the sheets, though she admitted later she left just a little bit of our mess for her husband to find. She said the risk made her even wetter the next time we fucked.

Thursday turned into one of our longest sessions ever, and Zahra made it clear this was just the beginning of her proud, enthusiastic infidelity. Her husband might think he has a devoted wife, but we both know the truth. Zahra belongs to the cock that makes her laugh while she cheats, and she has zero intention of stopping.