Claire, the Cheating Wife

Claire closed the garage door behind her, heart already racing. Phil was at a client meeting. The kids were at school. The house was hers for three hours, and she was already wet just thinking about it.

She texted the number saved only as “J.”

Garage. Now. Don’t knock.

Five minutes later the side door opened and Jay Pritchett stepped in, already hard in his slacks. He didn’t waste time with greetings. He grabbed her by the throat, spun her around, and bent her over the workbench.

“You filthy fucking slut,” he growled, yanking her yoga pants and panties down in one motion. “Married to that idiot and still begging for your father-in-law’s cock.”

Claire moaned, spreading her legs wider. “Shut up and use me. I’ve been dripping all morning thinking about you wrecking this married cunt.”

Jay spit on her asshole, then shoved two thick fingers straight into her pussy. She was soaked. He finger-fucked her hard while she pushed back, already grinding.

“Look at this. Phil’s perfect little wife, bent over like a cheap whore.” He pulled his fingers out, slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint, then lined up and slammed every inch of his thick cock into her in one thrust.

Claire cried out, the sound muffled by her own arm. Jay fucked her like he hated her - deep, brutal strokes that made the tools rattle. He reached around and pinched her clit, rubbing it in tight circles while he pounded her.

“You’re nothing but a secret cumdump,” he snarled. “How many times this week already? That trainer at the gym? The guy who fixed the AC? Me?”

“All of them,” Claire gasped, voice wrecked. “I sucked the trainer off in the locker room yesterday. Let the AC guy fuck my throat and then my ass on the kitchen floor while the kids were at soccer. And last night I crawled into your bed after Gloria went to sleep and let you creampie me while Phil snored next door.”

Jay groaned and fucked her harder, balls slapping against her. “You’re a real whore, Claire. A married, cheating, desperate whore.”

He pulled out, spun her around, and shoved her to her knees on the cold concrete. Claire opened her mouth immediately, tongue out, eyes glassy with lust. Jay fed her his cock, thick with her own juices, and fucked her face. She gagged, spit running down her chin, mascara starting to smear, but she took it deeper, hands on his thighs, urging him on.

When he pulled out she was panting, lips swollen. “Fuck my ass. Please. Ruin it. I want to walk funny when Phil gets home.”

Jay hauled her up, bent her back over the bench, spit on her tight hole, and pushed in slow at first—then all the way. Claire screamed into her forearm as he buried himself in her ass. He didn’t go easy. He railed her, one hand in her hair, the other reaching around to slap her clit.

“Take it, you cheating slut. Take every inch while your husband thinks you’re folding laundry.”

Claire came hard, body shaking, pussy clenching around nothing while her ass gripped his cock. Jay kept going, chasing his own orgasm, until he buried himself deep and flooded her guts with thick ropes of cum.

He pulled out slowly. Cum leaked down her thighs. Claire stayed bent over for a moment, breathing hard, then turned and dropped to her knees again. She cleaned his cock with her tongue, sucking every last drop, looking up at him like the desperate whore she was.

Jay zipped up, slapped her cheek lightly with his soft cock, and left without another word.

Claire pulled her pants back up, wiped her mouth, and went inside. She made coffee. She answered a work email. Later that afternoon Phil came home, kissed her on the cheek, and asked how her day was.

She smiled sweetly. “Quiet. Just the usual.”

That night, after Phil fell asleep, she slipped out of bed, went into the bathroom, and texted another number—this one labeled only with a single initial.

Come over. He’s out cold. Use the back door. I want both holes filled this time.

She was already touching herself again, still full of Jay’s cum, already planning the next one.