Purdey's Lustful Quest
Copyright© 2026 by CoryKing
Chapter 20: Purdey takes a Holiday
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 20: Purdey takes a Holiday - Purdey opens her marriage seeking desire and control. What begins as permission becomes obsession, power, and erotic reinvention. As intimacy turns transactional and freedom grows intoxicating, the consequences ripple through her marriage, family, and community. A provocative erotic novel about female agency, fantasy, and the cost of wanting more.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Ma Fa Mult Consensual Drunk/Drugged NonConsensual Romantic Heterosexual True Story Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching BDSM Light Bond Rough Spanking Gang Bang Group Sex Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Interracial Oriental Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Public Sex Size
Carlton did make the finals but they got taken out by Brisbane who were the eventual winners that year. After months of intense coverage and the emotional rollercoaster of following her team’s journey, Purdey felt drained as the season came to its disappointing close. With no new collaborations scheduled, Zach her OF manager suggested she take some time off, and her firm Atelier Axis preparing for their end of financial year report which only required her to review and sign off, Purdey decided to take a holiday and visit her sister in Kuala Lumpur. She hadn’t heard from Andrea in months, which was starting to worry her more than she wanted to admit.
The keycard slid smoothly through the reader, the little light flashing green in the dimly lit hallway of the luxury high-rise. Purdey pushed open the door to Andrea’s Kuala Lumpur apartment, immediately struck by the unsettling silence that greeted her. The spacious living room, with its panoramic views of the city skyline now glittering in the early evening, felt oddly vacant despite the furnishings. Her sister hadn’t answered calls for months—alarming for someone who typically lived with her phone in hand, constantly posting updates or sending Purdey messages about the latest drama in her expat social circle. The stillness in the apartment sent a chill down Purdey’s spine that had nothing to do with the aggressive air conditioning.
“Andrea?” Purdey called, stepping into the entryway. No response.
The apartment smelled of cinnamon and something else—musk, perhaps. Purdey dropped her overnight bag by the door. After leaving the girls with her mother in Penang, this impromptu visit seemed like the perfect chance to reconnect with her sister.
She moved through the kitchen, her shoes tapping softly against the ceramic tiles. A half-empty wine glass sat on the granite counter, burgundy liquid still clinging to its sides, leaving a ring of condensation beneath it. Two plates nestled in the sink, smeared with the remnants of what looked like pasta sauce, forks crossed atop them. Strange. Andrea lived alone since her husband travelled so frequently for work—his suits hanging untouched in the closet for weeks at a time.
A rhythmic sound drew her attention—a slow, persistent creaking of floorboards, followed by a muffled groan emanating from the second living room. The sound vibrated through the air, sending a chill down Purdey’s spine as she froze, suddenly aware she might be intruding on something intensely private. The scent of jasmine candles mixed with something more primal hung in the warm air.
“Andrea?” she called again, louder this time, her voice catching slightly in her throat.
The sounds continued unabated—heavy breathing punctuated by soft, desperate moans that echoed off the walls, creating a symphony of intimate noises impossible to misinterpret.
Purdey rounded the corner into the second living room and stopped dead, her feet suddenly leaden. The scene before her refused to process in her mind for several seconds, as if her brain was rejecting what her eyes were witnessing.
Andrea sat astride a man on the plush ivory carpet, her back to his face as she rocked her hips in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, long hair cascading down her spine, her visibly pregnant naked body glistening with perspiration that caught the afternoon light streaming through half-drawn blinds. The man’s hands gripped her waist, fingers pressing into flesh, guiding her movements with possessive urgency. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex and sweet perfume.
“Oh my god,” Purdey whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of skin against skin.
Andrea’s eyes flew open, pupils dilated with pleasure. She turned her head but didn’t stop moving, her body continuing its primal dance. “Purdey?” she gasped, her rhythm faltering, the carpet beneath them rustling.
Andrea continued to rock against him, her body tensing visibly as she approached her peak. Her movements grew more urgent, more desperate, the sound of their coupling filling the room. The man beneath her gripped her hips harder, his fingers pressing into her skin, leaving temporary white impressions as he thrust upward to meet her, the muscles in his legs flexing with each movement.
“You like watching, sis?” Andrea panted, a wicked smile crossing her flushed face despite her surprise. She ran her hands over her swollen breasts, droplets of sweat sliding between them, pinching her nipples as she continued riding him, her pregnant belly gleaming in the soft light.
Andrea cried out, her body shuddering as she reached climax simultaneously with the man beneath her. “Yes! God, yes! Do you like my pussy Ian? Is it better than Purdey’s?!!” Andrea yelled, calling out a familiar name that echoed off the walls like a thunderclap.
“Oh fuck! I’m cumming again Andrea! Your pussy is so tight! It grips me so well and drains my balls! You’re definitely the better fuck out of the Tan sisters!” His voice came out hoarse and strained.
His voice registered in Purdey’s mind with sickening clarity, like ice water flooding her veins. The man groaned as he finished, his hands gripping Andrea’s thighs with bruising intensity, fingers digging into soft flesh.
“Ian?” Purdey’s voice cracked with recognition, the taste of bile rising in her throat.
Purdey’s stomach dropped, a physical sensation like falling from a great height. Ian—her ex-husband—was beneath her sister, his familiar form unmistakable even in these unimaginable circumstances.
Andrea climbed off him, revealing Ian in all his naked glory. His chest heaved with exertion, skin flushed and glistening with sweat that pooled in the hollow of his throat. A smug satisfaction lingered on his face before shock replaced it when he spotted Purdey standing in the doorway, her shadow stretching across the floor toward them.
“Purdey?” Ian’s voice cracked, his hand fumbling blindly for something to cover himself. “What are you doing here?”
Andrea grabbed a cashmere throw blanket from the couch, its soft fabric sliding across her skin as she wrapped it around herself without any real urgency. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” she said, cheeks flushing crimson but her eyes betraying no real regret, the gold flecks in her irises catching the light as she stared defiantly at her sister.
Purdey’s brain struggled to connect the dots—her sister with Ian. Her ex-husband inside her sister. The betrayal hit her in waves, each realization worse than the last, like icy daggers piercing her chest one by one.
“What is this?” Purdey asked, her voice unnaturally calm despite the chaos erupting inside her.
Ian grabbed a throw pillow from the couch, holding it over his groin as he stood. “Purdey, I can explain—” His voice had that same placating tone she remembered from their marriage, when he’d try to smooth things over.
“Can you?” Purdey cut him off, eyes fixed on her sister. “Because it looks pretty self-explanatory.” She couldn’t bear to look at him—not now, not like this.
Andrea walked toward Purdey smiling smugly. “I wanted to tell you,” she said, chin raised defiantly despite her compromised position. “We planned to tell you together.” There was something almost rehearsed about her words, as if she’d practiced this moment.
“Tell me what?” Purdey’s voice rose. “That my sister is fucking my ex-husband?” The words tasted bitter on her tongue, like something rotten.
“Precisely, Ex-Husband,” Andrea said quietly. Her eyes darted to Ian, who stood awkwardly clutching the pillow.
A strange expression crossed her face, something between triumph and guilt. Purdey recognized that look—Andrea had worn it since childhood whenever she’d taken something that wasn’t hers.
Andrea sat on the couch, blanket wrapped around her like a toga. “Please, sit down. Let me explain.” She patted the cushion beside her as if this were just another sisterly chat.
“Explain?” Purdey stared at her sister. “How long has this been going on?” Her mind raced through every interaction, every phone call, searching for clues she might have missed.
Since Easter Holiday,” Andrea answered.
The timeline clicked into place. “When you visited Melbourne alone.” The pieces fit together with sickening clarity, each revelation striking Purdey like individual blows to the chest.
Andrea nodded, a strand of hair falling across her face. “It was supposed to be a one-night stand.” She shrugged slightly, as if that somehow made it better, her fingers nervously toying with the edge of the blanket wrapped around her.
Ian cleared his throat, discomfort evident in every line of his body. “Maybe I should put some pants on for this conversation.” He shifted uncomfortably on the rumpled sheets, still clutching the pillow like a shield against the emotional storm brewing in the bedroom’s stifling air.
“Don’t bother on my account,” Purdey snapped, bitterness coating every word. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” She almost laughed at the absurdity of worrying about decency now, when the foundations of trust had already crumbled to dust beneath her feet.
He grabbed his jeans anyway, stepping into them with hurried, awkward movements. The room fell into uncomfortable silence as he zipped up, the sound unnaturally loud in the tension-filled space. Shadows from the bedside lamp stretched across the walls, distorting and elongating like the truths being revealed.
“Why?” Purdey finally asked, the single word hanging in the air like smoke. It was the only question that mattered anymore, everything else—their history, their future—suspended in this moment of brutal honesty.
Andrea adjusted the blanket around her, the soft material rustling in the silence. “Mak and I had been trying for a baby for years. Fertility treatments, specialists, everything. Nothing worked.” Her eyes filled with tears, glistening in the dim light. “When I visited you in Melbourne it was because I had a big fight with Mak and I needed someone to talk to but you were too busy with your ‘two-day work conference.’” Her tone carried an undercurrent of resentment. “So on the first night, the kids had already gone to bed and Ian had come out after finishing his game as he wanted to make himself a coffee.”
“She was crying at our kitchen table,” Ian added, now sitting cautiously on the edge of an armchair, his weight causing the fabric to creak. Purdey noticed how he couldn’t meet her eyes, his gaze darting around the room they’d once shared without secrets. “You weren’t home and I made her a cup of tea. We talked about the fight between Mak and her, about kids and how much she wanted one.”
“So tea turned into wine,” Andrea continued, her voice softening with the memory. “Wine turned into talking. We ended up on your couch watching old movies until 1 AM.”
Andrea’s eyes took on a dreamy quality as she recounted what happened next, seemingly lost in the recollection while Purdey stood frozen, each word another twist of the knife. “We were sitting close, and his arm was around me. I was emotional, vulnerable. He stroked my hair, told me everything would work out somehow.”
She shifted on the couch, the blanket slipping off one shoulder, revealing pale skin in the lamp’s glow. “Ian was laughing at the movie and I was staring at him, so I kissed him—a quick thank you on the cheek. But our eyes met, and something changed between us.”
Purdey’s face hardened as Andrea continued, her stomach turning to ice as the betrayal unfolded in excruciating detail before her.
The next thing I knew, I was straddling him and we were kissing. Really kissing. His hands were in my hair, warm and insistent, and mine were unbuttoning his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the cool cotton.” Andrea’s voice dropped lower, almost hypnotic in its intimacy, the words hanging in the air like perfume. “I slid onto my knees between his legs, the carpet rough against my skin. I wanted to thank him properly for listening, for being there when I needed someone to talk to.”
Ian’s face flushed crimson as Andrea described the scene with relish, the room suddenly feeling too small, too hot, too filled with unwanted truths. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck. “So I undid his belt, the metal buckle making that distinctive clink, then pulled down his zipper, tooth by tooth. He tried to stop me at first—said we shouldn’t. But I could see how hard he was through his boxers, the outline pressing insistently against the fabric. How attracted he was to me, and how attracted I was to his cock. It’s bigger than Mak’s.
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