Chapter 4: Lustful Tendencies

I stayed frozen on the cold tile for several minutes, totally in a stupor, the taste of his cum still thick on my tongue, my dress still hiked around my waist, panties twisted uselessly to one side. My thighs were sticky with my own juices and the lingering wetness from how hard he had fucked me. Slowly, shakily, I pushed myself to my feet. My legs felt unsteady. The mirror showed a complete mess, smeared lipstick, flushed cheeks, hair tangled, bruises forming on my hips and around my throat where his fingers had dug into my flesh. Red marks were also forming on my neck, my breasts, my shoulders and arms where he had sucked on me during the most intense moments of passion. I looked more used than at any point in my life.

The full weight of the situation hit me then, harder than any slap to my ass or orgasm had.

I turned on the sink and tried to clean myself up. I cupped handfuls of cold water and wash my face and rinsed my mouth over and over, spitting until the taste of him had faded. I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wiped between my legs, the paper coming away soaked and translucent. Every swipe sent another spark of residual pleasure through my oversensitive clit, and that only made the guilt worse. I pulled my panties back into place, they were ruined, the lace stretched and wet. I smoothed my now utterly wrinkled dress down over my hips. I fixed my hair as best I could with trembling fingers. I reapplied a little lipstick from the small tube in my clutch, even though it felt ridiculous, like putting a pretty bow on something filthy.

The ramifications crashed in wave after wave while I worked. I had cheated on Mike. Not a kiss. Not a drunken flirt. I had let Tyler bring me to orgasm with his fingers. I had sucked his cock like I was possessed. I had let him bend me over the sink and fuck me with that amazing cock of his until I screamed his name and called myself a cheating slut.

I had come hard multiple times, more times than I could count on the dick of the man I had always thought was an asshole while my boyfriend was downstairs, passed out after getting too drunk from our fight, but trusting me that I was still his loving loyal woman. Instead, I had cheated on him upstairs and been completely destroyed by his oldest friend. The shame was so thick I felt nauseous. Tears poured from my eyes and I could no longer look at myself in the mirror so strong was my disgust with myself. I had crossed every single line, I had failed him, failed myself, failed us.

The need to escape swelled inside me. I have to get out of here, I told myself. Wake Mike up. Get us in an Uber. Go home. Pretend this never happened. Never look Tyler in the eyes again. The plan felt solid even as my body still hummed with the memory of how full Tyler had made me, how good those thick inches had felt stretching me open, how the dirty names had somehow made every orgasm he had given me sharper, stronger.

I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway, heart hammering. The party noise downstairs had quieted a lot; most people must have left. Just as I turned toward the stairs, Tyler appeared at the top of them, a fresh bottle of white wine in one hand and two glasses dangling from the fingers of the other. He saw me, and that cocky smile spread wider.

“I told you we weren’t done,” he said, voice low and certain. He set the bottle and glasses on a side table in the hall, closed the distance in three long strides, and pushed me backward through the open door of the nearest bedroom. The door clicked shut behind us. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of outside moonlight coming through the window. The party felt a million miles away and I felt like my life had suddenly swung out of control.

“Tyler, stop! Wait I cried ... Mike!”

“Dead to the world,” he cut in, already backing me toward the bed. “Snoring on that couch like a log. Party’s basically over. Nobody’s coming up here.” His hands were on me again, one cupping the back of my neck, the other sliding around my waist. “And I meant what I said. I’m not finished with you.”

“Just a min...” was all I was able to get out of my mouth and whatever restraint I had managed to gather in the bathroom evaporated the second his mouth crashed onto mine. We made out like animals ... hungry, biting, desperate. I kissed him back just as hard, tongues sliding, teeth nipping, my hands fisting in his hair and yanking him closer. The guilt was still there, screaming that this was wrong, that I should stop, that every second made the betrayal deeper, but the shame only fed the heat. I was already wet again, my ruined panties clinging to my pussy. Tyler’s hands were everywhere, grabbing my ass, squeezing my breasts and pinching my nipples through the dress, hiking the skirt up so he could feel the bare skin of my thighs. I moaned into his mouth, the sound filthy and needy. He walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress and pulled the straps of my dress off my shoulders and pulled it down in one swift motion that saw it pooling at my feet. He took a moment to admire my body now that he had me naked except for my ruined panties, telling me I was so sexy and beautiful before lifting me and tossing me onto the bed like I weighed nothing.