Prologue

The first thing that struck Sarah Ward about the whole affair was just how sweaty the whole thing was. Sweaty, strenuous, and honestly, truly wrong. There she was; a married and accomplished woman lying in the nude next to one of her students. If someone had told her that the past few weeks were simply a movie whose plot mirrored those of the dime a dozen smut novels written to be forgotten on the bargain shelves of Targets and Barnes & Nobles, she would have believed you wholeheartedly.

The two of them had just confirmed a suspicion each of them held about the other, and not just hypothetically, though that was the original intent of their meeting; but practically and, if the soft aching between her loins told her anything, very pleasurably.

The roil in her gut told her everything she needed to know about the storm to come but for now she was content to lay next to the sleeping college junior. Normally she would have chastised him for so callously nodding off after a tryst as passionate and as lengthy as theirs, but as her eyes levelled themselves with the considerable member nestled between his toned thighs the only thing that stirred within her was a glaring disbelief. A disbelief not only that just two hours ago she was taking it inside of her in places and positions that would have made her husband’s jaw hit the floor, but the fact that she wanted it again. It was wrong. This whole situation was wrong, born from a miscalculated risk and a series of infinitely stupid decisions. The cock she’d just taken inside of her not only symbolized the final nail in the coffin she had lowered her marriage into, but a descent into something that wasn’t the dignified and clean-cut woman she strove to be.

She felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched his chest heave up and down. She wanted to get up and get a drink, yet something about the specimen splayed out before her kept her rooted in place. Just like his legs, there was not a lot of meat on his bones but what was there had been toned to perfection so that moonlight struck every ridge of muscle in a comely manner. As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted him. Not in the collected, nigh academic way she and Dale had pursued each other as though they were courtesans in a noble fairy tale. The swell in her breasts now was more akin to the surge of that a ravenous beast felt when it needed to sprint that extra second to take its prey to the ground. This wasn’t romance, at least not how Sarah knew it. This was primal. This was lustful. It took everything in her power not to shake the boy awake here and now, him down her throat to ensure he was as hard for her as he had been earlier, and then ride him into the morning hours. That was not a feeling that Dale had ever kindled within her. She wanted to open herself to the boy in every way possible. Even thinking about his name made her sex slick with arousal. Her fingers began to swirl her clitoris, pulling at the hood ever so slightly as she began to masturbate.

She whispered it at first. Repeating it under her breath as rhythmically as her hand rubbed her vulva in circles. Then she began to say it, emphasizing it and savoring it as she strung together epithets and insults, berating him for bringing out such a deep-seated desire for him. Soon, the shaming turned into imploring, begging him for more. More sex. More orgasms. More of him in every way imaginable. She could feel her orgasm building, an all too rare occurrence in the past years up until tonight. It didn’t take long to cum. Sarah was prepared when it came, seizing the blanket with her left hand and rocking herself into the outstretched index and middle finger of her right as the howled his name, her mind going blank for an instant and the weight of guilt temporarily lifted as she let pure, sexual pleasure envelop her body. As she came out of her reverie, she watched the younger man to stir and this time she reached out a hand and ran it through his hair, saying his name a finality one last time...