Maureen had messaged me and she seemed quite angry. It was going to be one of her grandkids birthday on Sunday and she had ordered a present to be collected on Friday morning.

Alan had forgotten to do it and to make matters even worse he decided to go play golf instead with a few clients from work even though the weather was bad. Alan's been doing a lot of golf recently which we don't mind as I get a chance to tee off on his wife :)

Maureen asked if I could pick it up instead and drop it round as she had "something" for me as well a bit of - angry wife revenge.

After collecting the present I made my way to Maureen's place and parked up and quickly made my way to the front door.

The moment Maureen’s front door clicked shut behind me, her mouth was on mine. It wasn’t a gentle hello, but a hungry, frantic claim, her lips tasting of mint and simmering rage. Her hands tangled over me, pulling me deeper into the kiss as she backed me against the wall with a soft thud. The air in the tidy hallway was thick with the scent of her perfume and something else… something electric and dangerous.

“He forgot,” she breathed against my lips, her voice a low, furious tremor. “The one thing I asked him to do today. One thing. Pick up the birthday present for my granddaughter. But golf. Golf was more important.”

I could feel the tension coiling through her body as I held her. My hands slid down her back, pulling her closer. “His loss,” I murmured, nipping at her lower lip.

A wicked, brilliant spark lit her eyes. She broke away from me, her gaze locking onto the living room. There, tossed on the sofa, was a single, king-sized pillow with a navy blue case. Alan’s pillow. Which she had brought down before I got there. She strode over, snatched it up, and held it to her chest like a shield, a devious smile playing on her swollen lips.

“His loss is my gain,” she purred, her eyes darkening with intent. “And your gain.”

She came back to me, the pillow held between us. Her free hand went to the buckle of my belt, her fingers deft and urgent. The metal clasp gave way with a sharp click. The zipper of my jeans hissed down. She pushed my pants and boxers down my hips in one fluid, determined motion, letting them pool at my feet, leaving me naked from the waist down, my cock already hard and aching in the cool hallway air.

“Now,” she commanded, her voice husky. She pressed Alan’s pillow against my stomach, the soft cotton cool against my skin. “Show me what you think of his priorities.”

Her hand wrapped around my shaft, her grip firm and knowing. She guided me, stroking slowly as she dragged the head of my cock up and down the pristine pillowcase. The friction was illicit, thrilling. My pre-cum began to darken the blue cotton in small, damp patches, leaving a mark that was unmistakably, intimately mine.

“Upstairs,” she whispered.

We left a trail of clothing up the steps, a breadcrumb path of our rebellion. Maureen shoved me down onto the bed, right on top of it. The downy softness molded around me as she climbed over me, her knees framing my hips, and crushed her mouth to mine again.

Her hands were everywhere, pulling at her own clothes. I helped her, yanking her blouse over her head, unsnapping her bra. Her breasts spilled free, and I took one taut nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, making her gasp and grind against my thigh. Soon she was just as naked as I was, her skin flushed and eager.

She shifted, moving up my body until she was straddling my face, lowering her soaked heat onto my mouth while she laid her torso over mine, her face buried in Alan’s pillow. Oh god, her moan was muffled by the fabric. I could taste her, sweet and musky, as I licked a slow, firm stripe through her folds. My tongue circled her clit, and her hips jerked. I held her firm, feasting on her, drinking her in. Her fingers clutched at the pillowcase next to my head as she ground herself against my mouth, her pleasure a silent scream into her husband’s bed.

When she came, her whole body tensed, a silent, shuddering wave that crashed over her. She collapsed for a moment before sliding down my body with a predatory grace. Her kiss was a messy blend of her taste and mine. “My turn,” she breathed.

She pushed me back and she kissed down my chest, my stomach, her hair trailing over my skin like fire. Then her mouth was on me, taking me deep, her tongue swirling around the head before she sank down, her throat working around my length. I groaned, my own hands fisting the sheets. All I could see was the ceiling, but all I could feel was her hot, wet mouth and the soft, traitorous pillow beneath my head, absorbing every sound I made.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled her up, flipping her onto her back. She scrambled, grabbing the pillow and shoving it beneath her hips, raising herself to me. I positioned myself at her entrance, both of us staring at the place where our bodies were about to join, right over the evidence of her husband’s neglect.

I thrust into her in one smooth, deep stroke. She cried out, her back arching. Her legs locked around my waist, pulling me deeper with every movement. The room filled with the sound of our skin slapping together, of our ragged breaths, of the soft rustle of the pillow beneath her.

I worshipped her with my body. I paused, pulling out just enough to drag my tongue along the sole of her foot, sucking each of her toes until she whimpered. I kissed my way up her calf, the sensitive inside of her thigh, my tongue painting wet trails across her stomach, her breasts, her neck. I was claiming every inch of her, anointing her in our shared sin.

I slid back into her, driving harder now, faster. She was meeting me thrust for thrust, her eyes wild, fixed on mine. “I’m going to come,” she panted.

Her words were my undoing. I pistoned into her, hitting that perfect, deep spot with every plunge. Her body clenched around me, and then she let go. A gush of warm liquid soaked the pillow beneath us, the scent of her release filling the air. The sight of it, the feel of it, pushed me over the edge. I buried myself to the hilt as my own orgasm ripped through me, my pulse throbbing inside her as I filled her up, my release joining hers on the fabric below.

I stayed there for a long moment, spent, buried inside her. She was breathing heavily, a triumphant, utterly spent smile on her face. I started to soften and pulled out slowly watching my warm cum drip out of Maureen onto Alan's pillow. His pillow was drenched in cum and his wife's adulterous juices.

Maureen and I cuddled and shared kisses every ten seconds as revelled in what we did and she joked about leaving his pillow there so he can sleep on it that night. Something she'd done before but this was too obvious and probably wouldn't had dried before he got home.

After a few minutes we were at it again....