Purdey's Lustful Quest
Copyright© 2026 by CoryKing
Chapter 5: Kim in the Gym
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5: Kim in the Gym - 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
Kim stared at the printed receipt she’d found in Lloyd’s pocket while doing the laundry in her hands. She could still make out the name of the hotel, in bold lettering PARC, there was only one with that name nearby, the amount—$320. The last four digits of the card and the date of the transaction, it was the day after she went to Queensland with Holly—its paper edges curled with damning evidence.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, casting deceptively cheerful patterns across the polished wooden table that now felt like an interrogation room.
“PARC Customer Service, how can I help you today?” The woman’s voice was cheerful, professional, almost jarringly so against the hurricane of suspicion and betrayal whirling through Kim’s mind.
“Hi, I’m calling about a charge on my card,” Kim said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the tremor in her fingers and the tightness in her chest that threatened to suffocate her. Was this what infidelity looked like? A sterile line on a bank statement? “Three hundred and twenty dollars at your establishment. I’ve never been there.”
“I can help you with that. What’s the date of the transaction?”
Kim’s gaze drifted to the calendar on the wall, mental calculations confirming what she already knew—she’d been interstate that day, hundreds of kilometres away with their daughter.
Kim read off the date, her fingers tightening around her phone until her knuckles whitened. The ticking of the wall clock seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet kitchen.
“And can I have the last four digits of the card, please?”
After verifying her information, the representative asked her to hold. Kim drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, staring out the window at the neighbour’s garden where autumn roses bloomed in defiant crimson clusters. Lloyd had been working late more often. Nothing unusual for a mechanic with a successful business, but something felt off - the way he’d been showering immediately after coming home, the faint scent of unfamiliar perfume she’d dismissed as belonging to a customer.
“Ms. Matthews? I’ve found the transaction. It was for our executive suite, signed for by Lloyd Koning. I can email you a copy of the receipt if you’d like.”
The room tilted slightly, the edges of her vision blurring as her heart pounded in her ears. “Yes. Please.” Her voice sounded distant, as if belonging to someone else.
Kim thanked the woman mechanically and ended the call. Minutes later, her phone pinged with an email, the sound cutting through the heavy silence. The attachment opened to reveal Lloyd’s familiar scrawl on the signature line. Room 512. Executive Suite. Three hours. The digital evidence burned into her retinas as she stared, unblinking.
Holly was at school, and Lloyd was at work today. To calm herself, Kim decided to go for a little walk. The autumn breeze rustled through her hair as she made her way to the park down the road, the crunch of fallen leaves beneath her feet providing a soothing rhythm to her steps. There, amid the weathered play equipment and dappled sunlight, she spotted Ian. He was doing some exercises on the metal bars, his muscular frame moving with practiced precision.
“Hey Kim, how are you?” Ian asked cheerfully, his voice carrying across the quiet park.
“Pretty shit actually. I’m trying to calm down.” Kim replied, her voice cracking slightly as she wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself.
In the open park with its rustling leaves and walls of emerald trees stretching toward the clear sky, Ian noticed Kim’s emotional state, he stopped what he was doing and walked over to her. The scent of his clean sweat and faint cologne filled her senses as he hugged her against the backdrop of squeaking swing chains and the distant laughter from the playground. Kim felt his arms, they were so thick that they made her feel safe and secure, like fortress walls protecting her from whatever storm was raging inside. Kim nestled into his arms and cried, the warm wetness of her tears soaking into his cotton t-shirt as afternoon sunlight filtered through the swaying branches overhead, casting dappled shadows across the worn path near the monkey bars.
“You don’t have to say anything love. Just cry it out, it’ll make you feel better.” Ian said, his deep voice vibrating against her cheek.
Kim hugged him tighter, the soft fabric of her blouse brushing against his chest. Kim didn’t shy away from his touch, it was warm and caring. In her mind, it was just a friend being there for another friend, a human connection when she needed it most. After about 10 minutes, the distant laughter of children playing faded into the background as Ian pulled a tissue from his back pocket and offered it to her, the paper soft and slightly warm from being carried close to his body.
“Thanks,” Kim said, her voice hoarse from crying as she dabbed at her puffy eyes.
“Feeling better?” Ian asked, his brown eyes searching her face with genuine concern.
“Much, thank you. I guess I’ll walk home now.” Kim replied, her shoulders feeling lighter as the cool air dried the tear tracks on her cheeks.
“I’ll walk with you, I’m done here anyway,” Ian said politely, grabbing his water bottle that glistened with condensation in the afternoon sun.
Over the next two weeks, Kim and Ian caught up whenever he worked from home. They went for coffee, the rich aroma and warm mugs creating a comforting backdrop as they talked and realized that they had much in common. The familiar coffee shop became their sanctuary, with its worn leather seats and gentle background music. Ian even joked that he had a thing for red heads, it’s why he makes Purdey dye her hair that auburn colour because true red heads never seemed to be interested in him, his eyes lingered on her face as Kim’s copper hair caught the light.
One Wednesday evening, Kim was coming home from her clinic as she had been working late. Her clinic was nearby so she didn’t drive to work that night as she wanted some exercise. The crisp evening air had filled her lungs, the gentle rhythm of her footsteps on the pavement a welcome relief after hours of standing. She went to go into her house from the backdoor, the familiar metal of her keys cool against her fingertips, and there was Purdey perched on her kitchen bench legs wrapped around her partner. Lloyd had his pants around his ankles trying his hardest to put a hole through Purdey and into the bench. The fluorescent light of the kitchen illuminating their bodies, casting sharp shadows across her once-pristine granite countertop.
They were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t notice Kim was right outside the house, dumbfounded Kim backed away slowly before running back to her clinic, the gravel crunching beneath her feet, each step heavier than the last. She had a self contained one bedroom apartment upstairs above her clinic. The tenant had just recently vacated, its empty silence now a sanctuary.
The second betrayal burned through her chest like acid, settling into cold clarity that spread outward to her fingertips, making them tingle and numb. Three weeks ago, while she was away in Brisbane visiting her mum, Lloyd had been at PARC instead of working at the garage, the lunch time video call-a convenient cover story. The devastation of Lloyd’s betrayal hit her as she burst out into tears, the salty taste running down to her lips, how could Lloyd do this to her, wasn’t the sex between them good enough?
She remembered Ian holding her at the park as she cried, she was the only thing on his mind and he was the last thing on hers as she cried herself to sleep. She dreamed of how gentle and caring Ian had been, his cologne a mix of sandalwood and salt had lingered on her clothes.
The next day came, Lloyd had gone to work, there was a missed call from Lloyd showing concern, Kim texted Lloyd a short reply that she worked late and she slept at the clinic, too tired to come home. After Kim got home, she moped around before eventually decided on doing some baking. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, casting golden rectangles across the polished countertop where the aroma of freshly baked goods hung in the air. She ended up baking carrot cake, Lloyd’s favourite, coincidentally Ian’s as well. The spiced scent filling the modest home she shared with Lloyd, a place that suddenly felt both familiar and suffocating. She sat at her desk as she looked at the receipt again, the paper now slightly crumpled from her repeated handling. A different emotion replaced her anger. Comfort, comfort in the man that had looked longingly across the table from her at the coffee shop.
She vaguely remembered someone had been intimate with her during New Year’s Eve, their mouth between her legs while she drifted in and out of consciousness in Ian’s master bedroom. The memory came in fragments—the cool silk of expensive sheets against her bare skin, the distant thump of music from downstairs, voices and laughter muffled through walls. At first, the realization horrified her—being touched in such a vulnerable state without clear consent. Who would dare do something so bold? However, it was so skilfully done they had made her cum harder than she ever had in years.
The smell from Ian’s master bedroom smelled surprising similar to how he smelled when he hugged her at the park.
Her mind wandered back to the past few weeks. All those lingering glances they’d shared across the school yard during school pick-up. The way his hand would occasionally brush against hers, sending unexpected tingles up her spine. How he’d texted her late at night with random questions about her favourite books, her childhood, what made her laugh. The coffee catch-ups where he’d remember details she’d mentioned weeks earlier—her sister’s promotion, her mother’s birthday, the name of her childhood dog.
How attentively he listened when she spoke, his eyes fixed on her face. How he leaned forward slightly whenever she shared something personal, elbows on the table, closing the distance between them. The way he’d started keeping her favourite tea at his house after she’d mentioned it once. How he’d shown up at her clinic with lunch on the day she’d complained about back-to-back clients.
How he’d defended her when Lloyd made a stupid joke about her weight, his voice sharp and protective in a way that had surprised them both. The slight flush on his neck when she’d thanked him later. How he’d suggested they skip the group dinner and order pizza instead, just the two of them.
How comfortable she felt in his presence. How his gaze would drop to her lips when she spoke, then flick back up like he’d caught himself doing something he shouldn’t.
He had given her something to hang on to in this time of crisis, a hope, his offhand comment about loving redheads echoed in her thoughts—”They never seemed to like me back,” he’d said with that charming, self-deprecating smile that created a single dimple in his left cheek. Was that his way of hinting? She’d never considered herself his type, but perhaps she was exactly what he wanted. The perfect match he’d been searching for all along. The thought made her chest tighten with a strange combination of excitement and trepidation. Perhaps he would welcome her attention, her affection, if she dared to show it.
Kim went to her bedroom and opened her closet. Overhead lights cast long shadows across the carpet. The small space held clothes from different phases of her life, some still tagged. Abandoned versions of herself.
She pushed aside her usual loose-fitting shirts and sweaters. Hangers scraped the metal rod. What am I doing? The question felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.
At the back, half-hidden in the corner, hung the green dress. She’d bought it years ago and never worn it. Too much skin. Too much shape.
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