Meeting His Mistress

Businesswoman Alexis Fawx steps into her bathroom and stops cold. There is Kristin Scott, her husband's side piece, petite as sin, wiping lipstick from her cheek. The air snaps. Alexis wants to scream. Her nipples tighten. Kristin's mouth curls like she knows exactly which buttons just tripped. Minutes later they are not screaming words on the bed. They are crushing mouths together, hands yanking silk, satin, lace. Alexis pushes Kristin down and Kristin goes willingly, tongue already flicking hot between her spread thighs. She eats like she is starving. Alexis' head slams back. One raw cry tears loose and the orgasm rolls out fast, soaking Kristin's chin, hips jerking against that greedy little mouth. She shoves Kristin up, flips her, and pays it back. Fingers slide in, tongue works circles, teeth graze just enough to thrill. Kristin’s thighs clamp, back arches, and the high-pitched whimper splinters into broken moans when she comes. They keep going. Tongues, fingers, sweat. Another orgasm crashes, then another, bodies twisting, sheets twisting, neither one done until both are wrecked and grinning.