AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Prologue
Rope looped around each wrist and tied to the headboard, her cunt tightened up like a vise, her slick walls clutching, as her six-foot-three, two-hundred-and thirty-five pound anonymous lover pummeled his thick, long dick into her wet valley.
Skin the color of mahogany, stretched over rippled abs and miles of muscled back, glistened from sweat as Mr. Anonymous stroked her walls and slid his dick back and forth over her G-spot; the head of his dick nudging her cervix.
The woman arched her back, her eyes slowly rolling back in her head. Her anonymous lover was fucking her . . . down. And yet he methodically stroked the core of her soul. Sweetly. He was fucking her pussy. Loving her pussy.
How could that be?
How could a man, a stranger, dig so deeply into her guts, stretch her cunt, and ravish her walls and then so gently caress every fiber of her being at the very same moment?
How could this man burn the essence of her skin with just his touch?
A man she could not see. Or touch.
The woman couldn’t make sense of it, even though she knew there had to be some rational reason for this exquisite man being able to—
“Aaah. Oooh. God, yessss . . .”
The air heated and sweetened from her musk. And she audibly inhaled. Her pussy smelled . . . intoxicating. She—unh, ooh, yes—tried desperately to remember the last time she’d had an orgasm—one not manipulated by her own hand or by some ridiculously expensive sex toy.
She couldn’t.
And, and . . . oh, God, yes . . .
This was what she’d asked for, wasn’t it? Yes, yes, yes. Oh, God, yes.
She croaked out a half-grunt, half-groan as a tear—a mixture of pleasure and heartache—slid down her cheek.
Oh God, oh God . . . yes, goddammit, yes . . .
Her pussy rippled over her secret lover’s cock. Smooth velvet wrapped around thick, hard dick. This, this—oh God, yes . . . this anonymous fucking, felt so d-d-damn good. She needed this—God knows she did. But it wasn’t the man she loved. It wasn’t her husband. And yet her body defied the confusion swimming around in her mind. She couldn’t get her husband out of her head, wondering what he was doing at this very moment. Was he somewhere fucking some island whore behind her back? Was he somewhere with his dick stuffed down in some other bitch’s neck?
Still . . .
She cried out, her hands tightly gripping the restraints. She felt so helpless. So trapped. And, yet, so liberated.
“Oh God,” she heard herself murmur as she felt soft fingers rolling lazily around her clit, making her skin erupt with goose bumps.
This wasn’t cheating. It was therapy. Sexual healing. Wasn’t this why she’d come to Passion Island, for passion and therapeutic healing?
“God, God, God . . . yes, yes, yessss,” she chanted as another woman’s delicate hand drew slow, deliciously sweet circles over her clit.
“Mm. Ja, mijn liefde,” the other woman whispered in her ear. “Geniet van zijn grote pik met uw natte kutje (Mm, yes my love. Soak his big cock with your wet pussy).”
Tears gathered behind the woman’s eyelids as she tried to imagine what her lover looked like, while fighting through the hurt and betrayal she felt so consumed with. Her husband had hurt her over and over and over again—with his lies and infidelity. Yet she was too weak to leave him. She didn’t want to abandon their marriage the way he had abandoned her, leaving her heart aching and her cunt empty.
However, through everything, she still summoned the fortitude from somewhere deep within to forgive him for his indiscretions, his moments of weakness. After all, what man didn’t cheat, at least once? It was in their DNA. Men were born to be dogs. They were bred to be unfaithful. They had to be trained to be faithful and loyal.
So why hadn’t he been faithful and loyal to her? She fought to understand, nearly driving herself crazy, trying to figure out what it was those other bitches had that she didn’t?
Still, in spite of her husband’s faults, he was a good man. But she was simply tired of his shit. She was tired of being in her marriage by herself. She was tired of begging—for attention, for love, and now, most recently, his dick.
She was a woman with wan
ts and needs and desires, too.
And what she wanted most was for her husband to love her again, to want her again. And she was willing to do whatever it took to win him back.
The woman tethered to the bed cried out as her clandestine lover began thrusting furiously. The steady pounding of his body into hers made her toes curl. He was fucking her like a wild, rabid animal as he rammed in and out, pounding her into the maelstrom of a third orgasm.
