Soon

Hazel swallowed. The question was loaded. This was just about sex. But also about lies, about the thrill of deception twisting inside her like a second heartbeat. She could lie—tell him never, tell him this was a one-time thing—but she didn’t want to.

She rolled onto her back, letting Dan’s cum leak between her thighs onto the sheets. "Soon," she admitted.

Dan wiped his chest, watching her. Hazel stretched, enjoying the soreness in her thighs—the kind Ethan hadn’t given her ever. The silence stretched, but not uncomfortably. She didn’t feel guilty.

She should have.

She should have felt guilt when she pulled her shorts back on, sticky with Dan’s cum. Should have hesitated when her fingers took the key still lying on his nightstand—an invitation for next time. But Hazel tucked it into her pocket without a second thought, her thighs still sore as she stepped into the afternoon sun.

Ethan would be home soon. He’d kiss her, ask about her day. She’d even fuck him later, but her mind would be elsewhere.

Hazel leaned against the wall, Dan’s key in her pocket. She glanced at her phone—three missed calls from Ethan. She’d tell him she stopped for coffee and traffic was bad. Lies slipped out easy.

Dan’s scent still clung to her skin—cedar, sweat, sex. She should shower before Ethan got home, scrub the evidence away. But she didn’t. She wanted to keep it. Wanted Ethan’s kisses to taste Dan on her lips.

Ethan didn't even look up from his stupid laptop when she walked in. Just kept typing away like always. "You're late," he mumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose—those same damn wire frames he'd had forever. Hazel clenched her teeth. Part of her wanted to smack them right off his face.

Instead, she tossed her bag on the couch and straddled his lap, settling her weight down hard.

Ethan went still. His hands froze mid-type. "Hazel—I've got this deadline—"

She rocked against him slowly, feeling the rough drag of her shorts against his thighs. Still wet between her legs from Dan earlier.

She got close, her mouth grazing his ear. "Miss me?" she whispered—her fist twisted in his shirt, wrinkling it good. And yeah, she could feel him getting hard beneath her. Same as always. So fucking easy.

Ethan's breath hitched, fingers gripping her waist with pathetic eagerness. "God, Hazel—" His voice cracked—too high, too ****—as her shorts rubbed against his thigh. She could practically smell Dan's cum still leaking out of her. But Ethan—clueless, hopeful—tilted his head back against the couch.

Hazel reached over and snapped the laptop shut with one sharp flick of her wrist. The screen clicked off—plunging Ethan's half-finished spreadsheet into darkness—and she leaned down, whispering into his ear.

"You really think I care about your deadline right now?" Her nails scraped lightly against his neck. "Take your fucking glasses off."

Ethan hesitated—just for a second—and Hazel rolled her eyes. She snatched them herself, tossing them onto the coffee table with a clatter. Then she gripped his chin, forcing him to look at her—really look—her thighs shifting against his growing erection. "Better," she muttered.

She slid off his lap slowly—letting her body drag against his cock until Ethan groaned. Hazel smirked. Then she dropped to her knees, her fingers working his belt with practiced ease. "Gonna suck your cock now," she announced, like she was reading a grocery list. "And then you're gonna fuck me." No teasing. No buildup.

Ethan's hands fluttered above her head—useless, hesitant—before settling on her shoulders. She ignored them. Instead, she yanked his pants down just enough to free his cock—already hard, already dripping. Hazel exhaled sharply through her nose. She didn't want to do this or taste him after having Dan's cum still inside her. But she had to sell the lie.

She took him in her mouth—deep, fast—gagging slightly on purpose. His fingers tangled in her hair instantly, tugging like some overeager teenager. Hazel was sucking hard enough, she didn't care if he came now—would prefer it.

"You're—fuck—so good at this," he gasped, hips twitching upward.

Hazel gagged again—this time on purpose—letting spit drip down his shaft. Her jaw ached with the effort of pretending enthusiasm. She imagined Dan watching—imagined his smirk—and hollowed her cheeks sucking harder.

She knew exactly how to angle her throat—how to let the tightness flutter just enough to make Ethan groan. Seven years of practice: the slight catch in her breath, the wet gag that wasn’t really a gag at all, just the illusion of one. Hazel had perfected the art of faking struggle early on, back when Ethan apologized after sex, when he’d whisper, "Was that too much?" with genuine concern.

But now? Now she pictured Dan on the couch beside them—watching with lustful eyes as she pulled Ethan’s cock from her mouth. She imagined Dan’s smirk when she rose, straddling Ethan’s lap in one fluid motion.

She had removed and thrown the shorts aside like a professional exotic dancer—no hesitation, no self-consciousness. Just Ethan’s stunned exhale against her neck. Hazel didn’t give him time to process. She reached between her thighs, guiding him inside her with impatience that made his fingers dig into her hips.

"Wait—" Ethan gasped, breathless, hips stuttering against hers. "Condom—"

Hazel didn't stop. She sank down onto him in one fluid motion, thighs pressing flush against his. Ethan's hands flew to her waist, like he was bracing for impact. His eyes went wide. "Hazel—Jesus, you never—"

Seven years of marriage. Seven years of her insisting—every time—until Ethan stopped asking why. Condoms by the bed, always within reach. The one time he'd dared suggest going without, she'd shut him off for weeks. And now?

Dan's imaginary smirk curled at the edges as Hazel rode Ethan—wet with Dan's cum, thighs still sticky from it—her nails biting into Ethan's shoulders. In her mind, Dan lounged in the armchair by the window, watching her take Ethan's pathetic thrusts. His tongue clicked once—disappointed—when Ethan's hands fluttered uselessly instead of gripping hard enough to bruise. Dan would've known better. Dan always knew.

Ethan's hips stuttered—predictable—his breath coming in ragged bursts against her collarbone. Hazel could feel him getting harder, swelling inside her, pulsing with that telltale urgency she'd come to dread. She hadn't come—wouldn't—but Ethan wouldn't notice. "Hazel, I—" His voice cracked. Pathetic.

She didn't let him finish. Just as his fingers dug into her waist—just as he gasped, "I'm gonna—" —Hazel slid off him in one fluid motion, dropping to her knees between his legs. Ethan barely had time to blink before her mouth closed around his cockhead—just in time to catch the first hot spurt on her tongue. Bitter. Salty. Nothing like Dan's.

She kept him deep—as his hips jerked against her face. His hands fluttered at her temples, too gentle, too tentative, his moans like a teenager's. Hazel waited. Waited until the last weak pulse hit the back of her throat—then held it there, letting his cum pool under her tongue while his softening cock slipped from her lips.

Ethan panted above her, fingers limp against her cheek. "God, Hazel," he whispered, voice wrecked. "That was—"

She didn't let him finish. Hazel leaned up—slow, deliberate—her lips brushing his with practiced tenderness. Ethan melted into the kiss instantly, his hands clutching at her waist like she might vanish. She let him taste himself first—before she parted her lips further.

Then—she pushed.

Ethan gasped, **** on the sudden cum flooding his mouth—his own cum warm against his tongue. Hazel held his jaw shut with one hand, fingers pressing into his cheeks, forcing him to swallow. His eyes widened—confused, startled—but she didn’t let go. .

"Swallow," she murmured, her voice low and commanding. "All of it." Her thumb stroked his throat, as he gulped. When he finally swallowed—his face flushed, his breathing ragged—she leaned back, watching him with detached amusement. "Good boy."

Ethan blinked up at her, lips still parted in shock. "Hazel, I—"

She silenced him with a finger pressed to his mouth. "Don't." Her voice was flat, final. The taste of him lingered on her tongue—bitter, familiar—but all she could think about was Dan’s cock filling her an hour ago, the way he’d fucked her without hesitation. She stood abruptly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Ethan’s gaze followed her, wide-eyed and needy, but she ignored it.

She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear—close enough to feel his breath hitch. "If you ever want me to fuck another man," she whispered, voice sharp as shattered glass, "I won't." Her nails dug into his shoulder. "And I will divorce you."