She asks me to fuck her

I’m frozen in her gaze. I can’t leave the room while she’s looking at me like that. She’s never looked at me like that. At the fire there were flirty glances, but nothing like this. This stare is intense. She either wants to kill me or fuck me.

I have to stay and find one. One of the options is worth the risk of dying.

Still staring at me, Rachel tosses the blanket to the side and swings her legs off the bed. Her bare legs. Her long and gloriously toned legs. Her slippery smooth legs. Her bare feet touch the floor. The wood squeaks as she stands up.

She’s not wearing any bottoms.

Just black-framed glasses and a white tank top.

She purposefully walks slowly toward me, making sure I soak in her sexuality. Totally confidence in her body. She wants me to look. She wants me to lust.

I do.

Her long perfect legs. Her toned lower abdomen. Her perfectly trimmed orange pubic hair that doesn’t hide the little slit of cameltoe between her legs.

My heart races. My mouth waters.

She steps close to me while her husband hopelessly watches. Her big tits swing around me, torturously grazing my arms as she brings her lips to my ear.

She whispers so softly her husband can’t hear. “Carry me over your shoulder and throw me on the bed. Have your way with me. See how much I enjoy passionate animalistic sex. All lust and desire. No emotions. No procreation. Just two people fucking.”

Her soft breath teases my ear. She pulls back and waits for my response.

Her husband stands tensely. He’s not going to let this happen. His wife has shown off too much of herself already. He’s not sharing her.