53. Wife's POV

Drip. Drip.

I was messed up, drenched in sweat and cum. My lower body was as numb as it could get. I could still feel the shadow of his cock in my pussy, ramming in and out, a pressure that refused to leave.

That pressure.

Hnnnnghhh…

SQUIRT SQUIRT

…

WHAT? Did i… Did I just??

Just the invisible pressure of his cock was enough to make me squirt. What has he done to my body? I kept shivering, my eyes closed as memories from only minutes ago replayed in my mind. But this was not the time to get lost in them...

I needed to wash myself before he woke up. My hubby.

I steadied my breath, placing one hand against the wall for support. Slowly, I put one foot down, then the other, carefully pushing myself upright. I leaned against the wall so I wouldn’t fall or stumble as I walked. Then, I slowly began taking baby steps.

I was tired. I had never imagined sex could make me this tired. And, to be honest, it wasn't like I was tiring myself out. It was... it was them. Those bastards were the ones tiring me out.

...

…

Not that I am complaining, though. I was clearly enjoying being tired this way. I mean, if being tired could leave me this happy, I wouldn't mind getting tired like this every day. I felt satisfied. I felt full. As if a thirst I never knew existed was finally being quenched. Quenched by people I would never have expected, not even in my wildest dreams.

I stumbled across my panty lying helplessly on the floor, silent evidence that this hadn't been a dream, but a reality. I picked it up, completely accepting what had happened, and continued my slow march toward the washroom.

Then, out of nowhere, my heart thumped as loudly as it could.

A question suddenly occurred to me.

WHAT IF HE WAS AWAKE ALL THIS TIME?

Sure, he had taken the medicines. But the way I had moaned without a care in the world... What if he had woken up? What if... what if he had been quietly listening, watching to see how far I would go? Watching just how much of a slut I could be?

I gulped silently and took a peek into the living room.

…

Sleeping.

My shoulders loosened, and I let out the breath I'd been holding. Thank the heavens.

But... his position had changed. Had he shifted in his sleep, or had he been sleeping like that from the beginning?

Well, anyways, what matters is that he is sleeping...

…

So he slept like a log the entire time? I wondered, a strange emotion swirling somewhere between relief and something I couldn't quite put into words.

I was relieved, trust me. Relieved that he was still sleeping.

And yet, I found myself feeling a little angry, happy. Irritated, perhaps? I wasn't sure. But there was definitely something else there, something that wasn't quite relief.

He didn't hear any of my moans? He didn't hear my helpless cries? He didn't hear any of it?

How... exciting.

Just realizing that it had happened so close to him, literally in the same house, sent an electrifying jolt to my womb. And once again, my dirty thoughts began to swirl.

I could quietly go to the washroom, clean myself quickly, and pretend to be the sweet wife I was supposed to be. But no... My mind had other plans. It dared me. It dared me to walk closer to him.

And how could I refuse? So I walked.

*THUMP THUMP**

*THUMP THUMP**

He was drenched in sweat, just like me. The only difference was that I was drenched for all the wrong reasons... or maybe the right ones. I didn't even know anymore.

It saddened me. No matter how vile of a bitch I was becoming, he was still my husband, the man I loved more than anyone in this world. Of course it was natural for me to feel sad for him.

But apparently, not sad enough to turn around and quickly go back to the washroom to clean myself. I simply stood there, staring down at his face.

There were no thoughts in my mind anymore. Just knew that I was about to do something stupid, something crazy.

My mind began spiraling out of control. Something was taking over me. My lust. It felt as though it was controlling me, pushing me to do things I never expected I would do.

My back and ass were marked with the old man's cum. My fingers slowly traced the marks across my skin. From my back down to my ass, the traces had already dried and glued to my skin. Except for one.

I took it onto my finger and stared at it for a moment. My mind was spiraling like crazy. lust had grabbed me by the throat. It made me bring my finger closer to my husband's face, as though I wanted him to see the marks another man had left on his wife.

This wasn't me doing this. It definitely wasn't me. It was my lust. Not me. And then...

It just happened. On a whim. My finger slipped inside… inside my pussy.

And I felt... I felt… a sense of peace...? a sense of accomplishment? I stopped thinking and surrendered to the impulse.

And, sweetly enough, my body rewarded me with a squirt of pleasure.

A minute after the squirt, as the waves of pleasure started to disappear. I finally started taking the situation seriously. I quickly pulled myself together and rushed toward the washroom. I had to clean myself. More importantly, I had to clean everything else.

The hallway. The living room. Every little mark, every trace, every piece of evidence that could reveal what had happened here.

I rushed into the washroom, shut the door behind me, and began washing myself as quickly as I could. Only after I was clean did I step back out and look around.

Every second I spent cleaning made my heart beat faster.

I couldn't leave anything behind. Not a single clue.