Amy, still drunk

It was Amy, riding me, bent facing forward and leaning with one hand on my chest. "Fuck yes, husband," she said. I could tell she was still drunk. She slid up and down on my unprotected dick, juicy with arousal. "Fuck your wife... Your hotter wife."

I tried to push her off, but when I reached out and put my hand on her side — it was soft, and somehow my arm went from pushing her away to pulling her in. "I can't believe you're into this," she moaned gutturally. "Knocking up your wife's best friend..."

At that I tried to stop again; it was true I had no condom on, and it seemed like she wasn't protected in any way either. But the way she kept taking my dick stopped me. I suppose I'd already cheated on my wife this weekend, maybe once more with her friend wouldn't be too bad?

I fucked Amy back. As good as she was, I couldn't stop Barbie from creeping into my thoughts. The image of the mature blonde writhing in every position was pushing me dangerously close to the edge. Amy could tell something was getting me off, although she didn't know it wasn't her. "Yes," she hissed, "fill me up," and I imagined it in Barbara's voice. I came, thrusting all the way to the hilt.

Almost immediately after I came, I felt a profound sense of guilt. I'd cheated on my wife previously this weekend, sure, but cumming unprotected inside of her best friend really took it to the next level. Amy slid off me, and I felt a bit sick. She lay on the bed in a drunken, post-coital daze. I lay down, shamefully, and passed out.

A few hours later I woke up, still feeling terrible. I decided to take a long shower to clear my head. Half an hour in, a small hand slid in through the shower curtain and pushed it aside. It was a considerably more sober Amy. She climbed into the shower and started kissing me.

"I can't do this again, Amy," I whispered.

"Yes you can," she whispered back, moving my hand towards her pussy and fondling my dick. It didn't take long for me to start kissing her back. We fucked again, the shower immediately cleaning us of the filth we were doing to each other. I thought of Barbie, a little less vividly, and came inside Amy.