Mistreated Housewife Gets Revenge on Cheating Husband

Parking my BMW in an available spot, I take a quick look in the rearview mirror, satisfied that I look okay, considering the circumstances. My curves are barely concealed in a bold, low-cut top that exposes my bosom, while leaving little to the imagination. A flimsy coat is my sole attempt at sartorial decorum. The fabric of my shorts hangs loosely from my hips and ends just above the roundness of my buttocks. With every step I take, I feel both free and daring.

I’m here for revenge…Hell hath no fury like a middle-aged woman scorned!

Strolling through the parking lot, I walk briskly, knowing where I’ll end up. Soon thereafter, I reach the front door, knocking, hoping he’s alone. The door opens to reveal the much younger Dylan, who’s standing shirtless with a pair of sweatpants, reminding me of how muscular he is.

“Hey, what’s up?”

He’s surprised to see me, although now isn’t the time for reminiscing.

“You got a woman over here?”

“No, why do you ask?”

I don’t answer, but instead push him out of the doorway, closing and locking the door when we’re inside.

“Hey, it’s great to see you, Janelle, it’s been so long. What’s the problem?”

“It’s a big one, but I don’t feel like talking about it right now.”

Pushing him against the door, I go straight for his lips, planting a firm kiss. At first he’s surprised, but then leans into it, our dormant lust rekindling like a fire until we pull our heads away.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s important.”

He nods, taking my hand in his and leading me to the couch. We sit inches apart, the heat radiating off him, my pulse quickening.

“What’s going on?” he asks softly.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I’m sorry for the way I left things between us,” I begin. “Let me just say — I missed you.”

Grabbing his face, I pull it towards mine. This time, our kiss is more intense, full of pent-up desire and longing. Our hands roam over each other’s bodies, rediscovering familiar curves and angles. But as much as I enjoy the sensation of his lips against mine, I can’t forget my true purpose here.

“I didn’t come here just to kiss you, Dylan,” I say, looking into his eyes. “I came here to fuck you!”

*** — Dylan

The moment we enter the bedroom, I can feel my pants tightening. I’ve always had a fetish for older women, and she hasn’t forgotten this since our last hookup. I try to ignore the horny sensation, but with her hand stuffed down the front of my sweatpants, she already knows she’ll be getting my cock.

Pulling her shirt over her head, she tosses it to the side, proceeding to take her skimpy shorts (no panties) down to her ankles. Her body is just as sexy as the last time we had sex months ago.

Backtracking onto the bed, she moves to the headboard, then halts.

“Come on, Dylan…eat my pussy!”

I do as she says, her pussy tasting like nectar from the Gods; my lips against her clit, my tongue running along its length. I eat her pussy until she orders me to do otherwise.

“Enough! Fuck me!”

“Uh, hold on, let me get a rubber from the drawer,” I say, somewhat awkwardly.

“No damn condom, Dylan Get on your back!”

I do so. My long, thick cock stands at-attention while she straddles and mounts me, in the reverse-cowboy position. Bringing the tip of my cock into her folds, she slams her entire body weight down.

“Ohhhh,” I shout. “Fuuuck!”

“Tell me how it feels, bitch,” she growls, grinding her hips back and forth.

“It feels amazing!”

“Does your cock belong to me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good answer.”

After the brief interlude of dirty talking, she returns to slamming and grinding atop my cock, my balls bouncing around within my scrotum. Tonight she has a level of passion and fury I haven’t seen before, almost as if her survival depends on having every inch inside of her. Staring ahead, I gaze at her MILF ass and the sight of her bouncing up and down on my steely manhood.

“Ohh, yes,” I groan, reaching out to cup her buttocks with my hands.

The smacking noises of our bodies colliding fill the room. My eyes close, her body tightens as she cries out, her orgasm approaching with a vengeance.

“Shit! Yes!” she screams, slamming down, grinding and rocking back and forth.

“You holding up okay, hon?” she asks, her first words in almost five minutes.

“Mmmm hmmm…just fine.”

Climbing off, she gets onto her hands and knees, arching her back before lifting her ass up into the air. “Fuck me doggystyle,” she commands, looking over her shoulder.

I give her what she wants by sliding my manhood back inside her welcoming pussy. With my thumbs digging into the small of her back, I push forward and pull back again, feeling the ridges of my cock as it slides along her inner walls. The sounds from both our bodies intermingle, filling the small bedroom.

“God, oh…yes!” she screams, pushing back to me.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I whisper, my shaft buried deep within as I pause to appreciate the feeling.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good inside of me! Keep going.”

Resuming the act, my hips rock to-and-fro, faster, harder, and deeper. With eyes closed, my focus is on fucking her as hard as I can. For an indeterminate amount of time, the creaking of the bedsprings and our noises are the only sounds in the room.

“I’m gonna cum,” I eventually say, rocking back and forth, my body trembling.

She reaches her hand down between her legs and with two fingers, pinches her clit. Soon thereafter, I unload, draining my balls within her depths. She screams with delight, leaving no ambiguity to my neighbors as to what we’re doing. I continue plumbing her depths until everything’s drained.

We collapse onto the bed, our bodies glistening as we spoon together.

“Just hold me,” she says, knowing I have questions, which will have to wait until later.