"Do you want to lick me, honey?"

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This chapter is a bit fetish!

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I pulled up to the arrivals curb at the airport, my hands still shaking slightly on the steering wheel from what I had seen.

When Donna emerged outside from the terminal, her face looked radiant. Her blonde hair was a bit messy, but she had managed to re-organize it pretty well. Her makeup fresh, her smile bright as she wheeled her small suitcase toward the car. But as she leaned in to kiss my cheek, I caught it—the faint, unmistakable musk of sex, lingering beneath her perfume. She was flushed, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright with a secret knowledge.

"Missed you, honey," she said, sliding into the passenger seat, her skirt riding up just enough to show the lace tops of her stockings.

I didn't say anything about the smell. I couldn't. I drove us home in silence, and somehow, I was not angry, I realised. Perhaps I accepted the whole thing. I wasn’t sure yet how I felt. Donna hummed along to the radio as if nothing had happened.

Once inside the house, she went straight to our bedroom. I stood in the kitchen, staring at the coffee maker, wondering what to say and how not to confront her. Then her voice drifted down the hall.

"Honey? Come here. I have a surprise for you." She cooed.

I walked to the bedroom door and stopped dead. She was sitting on the little couch beside our bed wearing sexy lingerie, a black corset that cinched her waist and pushed her breasts up, white stockings held by a garter belt, and those leopard-print heels I loved so much that made her legs look endless. No panties. A naked snatch. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes, a seductive smile playing on her lips.

"Do you want to lick me, honey?" she purred, her voice throaty and low. She sat on the edge of our marital bed and slowly opened her legs, showing me her naked cunt.

I could see it immediately—her lips were red, swollen, and glistening. They looked used, stretched, and nothing like the neat slit I was familiar with. There was a sheen to her that wasn't just arousal, a stickiness that caught the light. And the smell—that rich, musky scent of cum and sex—was stronger now, undeniable.

"No," I said, my voice hoarse, taking a step back.

She pouted, her lower lip pushing out in a mockery of innocence. "Just a quick lick, honey. Do it for me." She stood up and took my arm, her grip insisting, surprisingly strong, pulling me toward the bed. "Come on. Just one little lick. I need it."

"Donna, I can't—"

"Please," she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. She sat back down and spread her legs wider, her hand moving to her swollen slit, fingers tracing the puffy lips. "Look how wet I am for you. Don't you want to taste me?"

I could see it clearly now—a thick rope of white cum, stark against her inner thigh, slowly trailing down toward the stockings. It was still fresh, still glistening. Marcus's seed. The bouncer's potent Black cum, leaking from my wife's unfaithful cunt.

She saw me looking and smiled, wicked and knowing. She grabbed my head with both hands, her fingers tangling in my hair, and slowly pulled me down, down, between her spread thighs. I resisted at first, my hands pushing against her hips, but she was insistent, her legs wrapping around my shoulders, her heels digging into my back, trapping me there.

"Just for me," she whispered, her voice breathy, desperate. "Please, honey. Lick me. Clean me up."

I was inches from her now, my face pressed against her heat. The smell was overwhelming—salty, musky, and the distinct tang of male seed mixed with her own arousal. It was the smell of infidelity, of her betrayal, of another man's claim on my wife. She held my head firmly, her hips lifting, pressing her used cunt against my mouth.

I gave in. My tongue darted out, tentatively, and touched her swollen lips.

The taste hit me immediately—salty-bitter, thick and creamy, the unmistakable flavour of another man's cum mixed with her juices. It was warm and viscous, coating my tongue as I lapped at her entrance. She groaned above me, her fingers tightening in my hair, pulling me closer.

"That's it," she moaned. "Clean me, honey. Get it all."

I licked again, longer this time, dragging my tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top, gathering the mixture of their fluids. The taste was strong and pungent but not entirely unpleasant—earthy and primal, the taste of raw sex. I could feel the texture of his cum, thick and ropey, clinging to her inner walls, and I worked my tongue deeper, scooping it out, swallowing it down.

"Deeper," she purred, her hips rolling against my face. "Go deeper, honey. Get all of it."

I pressed my face harder against her, my tongue finding her entrance and pushing inside. She was loose, gaping slightly from the pounding she'd taken, and I could taste more of him there—deposited deep, coating her walls. I lapped at her, my tongue working in and out, scooping out the evidence of her infidelity, swallowing every drop. The taste was intense, overwhelming, filling my mouth with the flavour of her betrayal.

She was moaning now, her head thrown back against the headboard, her breasts heaving in the corset. "Yes," she gasped. "Yes, just like that. Clean up that Black cum, honey. Get it all out."

I worked my way up to her clit, which was swollen and throbbing, peeking out from beneath its hood. I sucked it into my mouth, nibbling gently with my lips, and she cried out, her hips bucking against my face. She tasted different there—sharper, more acidic, her own arousal cutting through the musk of his seed.

I settled into a rhythm, licking and sucking, my tongue delving into her well-used hole to gather more of his cum, then moving up to tease her clit. The mixture of flavours was intoxicating now—the bitter salt of his seed, the tangy sweetness of her arousal, and the raw musk of their coupling. I found myself growing harder, my own arousal betraying me as I cleaned her, submitting to her used cunt.

"Nibble on my lips," she commanded, her voice thick with pleasure. "Suck them clean."

I obeyed, taking her swollen outer lips into my mouth one at a time, sucking gently, pulling the soft flesh between my teeth, and tasting every crevice where his cum had pooled. She was so wet, so used—her cunt felt different against my tongue, softer, more yielding, stretched from the massive cock that had claimed her. I could taste the difference in her, the way she'd been opened up, the way she'd been marked.

I went back to her clit, circling it with the tip of my tongue, then flattening my tongue to press against it firmly. She was writhing now, her hands gripping the sheets, her heels digging into my back hard enough to bruise. I sucked the swollen nub into my mouth again, flicking it rapidly with my tongue, and she screamed, her orgasm crashing over her.

I felt her cunt spasm against my mouth, her walls fluttering, pushing out more of his seed. I lapped it up eagerly now, no longer reluctant, drinking down the mixture of their fluids as she came on my face. She was bucking wildly, grinding her hips against me, using my mouth for her pleasure, and I let her, submitting completely to her used, cum-filled cunt.

When she finally stilled, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and gleaming with sweat, I pulled back. My chin was wet with their combined juices, my mouth full of the taste of her infidelity. She looked down at me with heavy-lidded eyes, a satisfied smile on her lips, and ran her fingers through my hair.

"Good boy," she whispered. "Now you know what I taste like when I'm really satisfied."

She stood up, her legs trembling slightly, and walked to the bathroom, leaving me kneeling on our marital bed, the taste of another man's cum still coating my tongue, my marriage forever changed.

To be continued.