Reminisce about fucking a young slut at a party

You feel a smirk ghost across your lips, a private, ugly thing in the dark. The therapist wants a story? You'll give him a story. You lean closer to the screen, the glow illuminating the faint lines around your eyes. Your fingers find the keys, more confident now.

"TheTherapist35: But tell me, who is this woman or these women you fuck behind your wife back."

You type back, the clicks sharp and deliberate. "There was one. A football party. Jason's. The whole house was shaking with bass and the shouts of jocks. I was supposed to be the 'responsible dad,' making sure nobody was doing kegstands in the driveway."

"Most of them were good looking babes, but there was one. A little thing, 18 year old slut. Name was... Selina? Something like that. She had this look in her eye. Not at the guys, her own age. At me. I was just standing there knowing what effect I was having on her."

You pause, remembering. The cheap blue and white streamers hanging from the ceiling, the sticky smell of spilled beer on the linoleum. She'd worn a tight little top and jeans that looked painted on. She'd cornered you by the fridge, pretending to need help with something.

"She was shy not wanting to make a move. But me. No I flirted with the dumb slut. It wasn't an accident. I knew what she wanted. What I wanted. That was the sick part. The clarity of it. In that moment, I didn't want to be a dad or a husband. I wanted to be the guy in the dirty story. Fucking a woman half my age."

You shift in your seat, the memory a physical thing, a heat spreading through your groin. The remembrance growing.

"I led her upstairs. Someone else's fucking house. Past the pictures of a different family on the wall. The risk was insane. Jason was downstairs, his friends were probably could catch me in the act. Didn't matter. We slipped into a bedroom. I didn't even turn on the light, just the glow from the hallway."

You continue knowing he's hooked. "She didn't waste a second. On her knees before I'd even locked the door. Her mouth was... hungry. Eager. Like she was trying to swallow all the years I'd lost, all the responsibility. That's what it felt like. Not sex. A rebellion. I bent her over the side of the bed. And I fucked her. Hard. The way you can't fuck the mother of your children. There was no love in it, just... need. The headboard was banging against the wall, a frantic rhythm. Her body a perfect fit for my older mature cock. Plus she flashed me at one of tennis practices when I drove past this past week."

You finally end the story where you stuff the woman full of your seed as you both get off at your dirty little cheating. You log off and head back upstairs.

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