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“Of what?” I raise my brows as I continue to fuckhiswife in slow, torturous strokes.
“This,” he shakes his head from side to side, “being made to feel guilty for working, you done it… and look where you are,” Stan throws his hands round the room and I know he is referring to my home, my life… my money.
A low hum vibrates deep in my throat and her wetness coats my fingers, dripping down my wrist.
“But I wish I could turn back time,” I say, my head turning slightly to look at her, her eyes are cast down and closed as she stays mute whilst I fuck her slow and deep.
“You’re just saying that,” Stan snaps, I can see his anger slowly rising through him.
“No, I’m not,” I take a big mouthful of my coffee, wetting my tongue and trying to ignore my want to sink my tongue in her virgin cunt.
I feel her pussy tighten and I thrust a little harder now and I feel her body shudder, a small whimper escapes her and I cough, trying to cover her orgasm, her fingers wrapping tighter round her coffee cup.
Smiling, feeling smug, I slip my fingers out of her tight cunt and rest them on the worktop.
She stands, her legs shaking as she lifts her cup to her lips and takes a mouthful and I watch as her chest rises and falls.
“I’m going for a walk,” Stan declares to the room and walks out the back doors without looking back.
Silence fills the room for a moment and my eyes are on her.
“I… um… I better go see if he is okay,” she rolls her lips and rushes to the hallway where she grabs Stan’s coat and a pair of welly boots.
And fuck me dead.
She looks irresistible.
I groan, taking myself away from this situation.
How the hell had I got here.
Finger fucking my son’s wife.
But do you know what? I’m not mad about it.
* * *
They’ve been gone just over an hour and the whole time I am wondering whether he is fucking her. Whether he is touching her and finally treating her right. The jealousy ripples through me and the longer their gone, the angrier I get.
I pace into their room, and I have no idea what I am looking for, but I am searching.
I need my fix, anything that I can get my hands on.
I find a pair of her lace panties and lift them to my nose, inhaling deeply as her scent fills me, erupting my skin in goosebumps.
I am addicted to her.
I’m not letting her leave with him after Christmas.
She can stay here.
She is mine.
He doesn’t deserve a pure woman like her. He is a fucking fool. From this moment on. She’s mine. Fisting her panties into my pocket for my safe keeping, I go to leave when I notice a piece of paper on her bedside unit, neatly folded.
I step over, tracing my fingers over it before my prying eyes get the better of me. I unfold it and my eyes widen when I see what’s written.
Dear Santa,
