Not sure you have a choice!

Your gaze traveled up the length of him, from the flushed tip to the nest of dark hair at his base, and you felt the ghost of his tongue still flickering between your legs, the aftershocks of your orgasm a warm, wet pulse that seemed to mock your hesitation, and you realized you were not sure you had a choice. You know this situation was crazy to begin with, but you'd let this man, your husband apparantly, eat you out within minutes of waking up, and now, his cock was in front of you, you felt you should have been disgusted, but, was it really fair you'd get all the pleasure, and it had felt so nice... no one had to know.

Your mouth was already watering, your lips parting, your tongue darting out to wet them as if they had a will of their own, and you hated the way your hand rose, seemingly of its own accord, to wrap around the base of his shaft, the weight of it familiar in your palm, the texture of his skin against your fingertips a memory your body had stored in its very cells, and as you leaned forward, your mind screaming a silent protest that was growing fainter with every passing second, you opened your mouth and took him in, the taste of salt and skin and something indefinably him flooding your senses, and you heard yourself moan, a sound of surrender and recognition, as your head began to bob in a rhythm you had not learned but somehow knew by heart.

His taste filled your mouth, a flavor that was at once unfamiliar and deeply known, and as you worked your tongue along the underside of his shaft, you felt a desperate need to reclaim some measure of control, some agency in this impossible situation, so you pulled away with a wet pop, ignoring his grunt of protest, and rolled off the bed, landing on the carpet with a soft thump, the impact jarring your newly heavy breasts and sending a jolt through your still-sensitive clit, and before he could ask what you were doing, you guided him down to join you, your hands on his hips as you positioned yourself beneath him on the floor, the carpet rough against your knees.

And so you knelt there, the carpet fibers biting into your knees, his cock in your mouth once more, and you tried not to think about it, tried to let your body take over while your mind retreated to some small, quiet corner of itself, but the taste of him was too vivid, the weight of his hands on your shoulders too real, the sound of his breathing too present, and as you took him deeper, feeling him nudge the back of your throat, you felt a tear slide down your cheek, not of sadness exactly, but of something closer to grief for the person you had been this morning, the person who had never known the heft of a man's cock on their tongue, who had never knelt on a bedroom floor with their mouth full and their mind empty, and yet even as that thought surfaced, your hands found his thighs, your nails digging in, your rhythm steady and sure, a performance your body had rehearsed a thousand times without your conscious memory, and you felt yourself begin to sink into it, into the wet heat and the salt and the surrender, your eyes fluttering closed as you pushed away the last remnants of resistance, letting the act itself become your only reality, his soft moans your only anchor.

And you felt him tense, a subtle shift in the muscles beneath your palms, a quickening of his breath above you, and your body knew what was coming before your mind could catch up, your mouth hollowing, your tongue pressing flat along the underside of his shaft as his hips jerked forward, a desperate, stuttering motion, and then he was coming, hot and thick and impossibly full, flooding your mouth with a taste that was bitter and salty and somehow sweet, a taste that your throat accepted without question, your muscles working in a rhythm that was pure instinct as you swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, his hands fisting in your hair, his voice a broken litany of praise and endearments that you barely heard over the rush of blood in your ears, and when he finally stilled, when the last pulse of him had been coaxed from his flesh and consumed by yours, you pulled away slowly, your lips leaving his softening cock with a wet sound that made you flush despite everything, and you remained there on your knees, your throat working as you swallowed the final traces of him, your body humming with a strange, hollow satisfaction that felt like betrayal and belonging in equal measure, all the while maintaining eye contact,as he looked down at you with a tenderness that made your chest ache, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, and you did not flinch away.

He held your gaze, his thumb stroking your cheek with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the mess you'd just made of each other, and said, "I love you, you know that? " his voice rough and sincere, and though you had no memory of earning those words, though every rational part of you screamed that this was madness, you felt something in your chest crack open at the sound of them, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lingering heat between your thighs, and before you could parse whether the tears pricking at your eyes were from grief or gratitude or some twisted combination of both, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and stood, his softening cock brushing against your chin as he rose, and he padded naked toward the bathroom, leaving you there on the carpet, your knees aching, your mouth still tasting of him, your heart a battlefield of confusion and something terrifyingly close to need.

And you might have stayed there forever, a supplicant on that carpet, your mind dissolving into the warmth of his tenderness and the ache of your own confusion, but then a sound cut through the haze, a phone ringing from the nightstand, its shrill insistence a violation of the quiet intimacy that had settled over the room like a blanket, and you felt yourself surface from the depths of that strange, willing surrender, your body stiffening as the familiar electronic chirp dragged you back toward something like clarity, and you looked at the phone, at its screen glowing with an incoming call from a contact labeled "Darren..."