Thomas is coming

On Fridays, Thomas sometimes leaves the office early. Today, he's at the door sharp at 1:30 p.m. I didn't expect that. Otherwise, I would have put something on, regardless of whether Dirk approves or not. Even though my husband knows what Dirk and I do while he's away, I feel embarrassed at this moment, walking around the apartment half-naked in front of him. I struggle to suppress the urge to cover my breasts with my hands. That would be the pinnacle of madness.

I can't bring myself to meet his gaze. The corners of my mouth turn down. I probably look like the personification of a guilty conscience.

“Dinner isn't ready yet. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were coming home early.”

“It's okay. I grabbed something quick on the way. I think you have other plans.”

What does that mean? He's usually not interested in my plans, but expects me to be there for him and for us to do things together when he's free.

But things have been turned upside down since Dirk moved in with us.

I notice Thomas winking at his friend. As if they had conspired behind my back. How so? Dirk had exchanged several messages on his smartphone, and I suspect they have something to do with it.

Thomas heads for the kitchen.

“I'm going to get something to drink. Don't let me disturb you.”

Huh? Perplexed, I see him blush. I should confront him.

Dirk stops me.

“Come on.” His outstretched hand signals more than the two short words that he is in charge of what I have to do. My wishes and needs no longer seem to matter.

Or does he think he knows better than I do what I need?

Dirk pulls me through the hallway. No, not into Sina’s room! I stop and try to break free. He is stronger.

He lets himself fall backwards onto my daughter's bed. He drags me with him. My face is just above his midsection. His narrowed eyes and thin lips speak louder than any spoken command, telling me what is expected of me.

Obediently, I pull down his pants. His cock immediately springs out at me. The sharp scent of his arousal fills my nose. Irritated, I notice how my mouth waters. Has he already trained me so well to be his obedient slut?

All right, let's get it over with. I tell myself he's forcing me to do this, as if I don't want to do it myself.

I circle his swollen glans with my tongue. Drops of precum stick to my lips, and I slurp them away. The strange taste in my mouth reminds me of leather and earth. I suck harder, licking his sensitive underside.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a shadow behind the crack in the door. Thomas? He doesn't enter. No movement, no sound.

Before I can think about it, Dirk grabs the back of my head, buries his fingers in my hair, takes control.

He sets a steady rhythm. Slowly down, deep, further and further. Until the tip hits my throat. I try to relax, suppress the gag reflex. Then an equally slow withdrawal, my tongue running along his shaft.

Down. Up. My world narrows to this one sensation. The wet smacking, the pressure in my throat, the scratching of his coarse hair on my nose and chin, the pulling of his fingers on my scalp, the oppressive feeling of not getting enough air.

I recognize it first by the unsteady twitching of his pelvis. His cock seems to get even thicker. Veins swelling.

“Ah, here it comes.”

Before I can even finish that thought, the load shoots into my mouth. Warm, thick, acrid. I swallow reflexively.

He's not done with me yet. A second, even bigger surge follows. My mouth is full. Dirk's grip on the back of my head keeps me down. I keep my mouth closed, sealed tightly around his cock, continuing to suck as he throbs and cums and cums.

Out in the hallway, a deep, guttural moan.