It was just about two weeks after coming back from my honeymoon that Marcus, my ex, found me. 

That sounds a bit ominous, but it was more of a bitter-sweet coincidence. After I met Alvin (the man that would be my husband), we had a few fights, broke up and things just slowly fell apart until we stopped talking completely. 

I married Alvin some time after that. Went on my honeymoon, lived my life, and now that I was thinking about having kids…

…And then, there he was, calling my name from behind me in the coffee shop line. 

“Melinda?” Marcus said from behind. 

I recognized his deep voice. Freezing in place, I turned slowly, peering over my shoulder, and I could see him in his ever so fashionable style. 

His wine-colored suit contrasted with a golden scarf, his short hair matched his trimmed beard that framed a confident smile.

The only difference over the years was he was wearing a new set of glasses before his brown eyes. 

As soon as I turned, he pulled me for a hug with the same old familiarity we used to have. 

“How are you? How long has it been? how is it going?” He bombarded me with a series of questions before I could even mutter an answer.

Dizzy from the shock, I simply looked up to his bright eyes and showed him the wedding ring in my left hand. 

If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn I saw his eyes twitch. 

“Oh!!!” He laughed and hugged me once again. “Congratulations!” He said effusively, pressing his firm chest against my own. I could smell his cologne. The aroma brought back dormant feelings and memories. Pleasant memories that made me blush. 

“Marcus,” I said, tapping his back, “I can barely breathe.” 

He let go of me and I noticed some people around were giving us an annoyed look. 

“Right, let me order something for us.” He stepped ahead of me and towards the barista. “The usual?” He asked. 

I was overwhelmed and nodded before even trying to remember what was my favorite drink from the time we were together. 

He took a seat by the window and called me over, pulling the chair very gentlemanly. “So, what’s new? Besides the obvious,” he with a lovely grin. 

“I just came back from my honeymoon. We just moved to town.” 

He leaned on the table and looked at me attentively with his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Kids?” He said. 

“No, not yet. It’s a bit soon to think about that.” I felt like a giggle burst out of me. 

He laughed with me, “Of course, of course,” and took off his glasses. I stared at the way his eyes reflected the light. They almost seemed golden in this light. 

“How is he?” He said

“He is...” I had trouble thinking back to Alvin. I rubbed my temple, closing my eyes for a second.

He took my hand in his and began caressing the back of my palm.

I stifled a moan. 

“He is sweet,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice, “and kind and attentive.”

“That’s great.” He said and kept caressing the back of my palm. 

It felt like a muscle I hadn’t exercised in a long time. 

The motions he was making...

They were pleasant and, at the same time, distracting; he moved up to my wrist, making soft circles. 

He kept asking questions, and I answered honestly and earnestly. Each question made his touch more pleasant, more vivid. 

I recalled how he used to touch my hand and I could feel his fingers, like they were between my legs. 

I moaned. 

And immediately after, I heard a cough by my side. 

“Your order,” said the young girl that brought our drinks. She gave me a blushing glance, both jealous and judgmental. 

I averted her gaze and took my coffee with my free hand. 

“Thanks,” I muttered. Marcus hid his amusement behind his coffee cup. 

I took a sip and was amazed at the taste. There was the soft taste of hazelnut that was barely sweet and the hefty kick of a double espresso with thick foam. I savored the drink and went back to look into Marcus’ eyes. How easy it was to get lost in them, how pleasant it was to be with him. 

“How is he in bed?” He asked flatly, his voice mellow and kind. 

I could never hide anything from him. His fingers went back to stroke my wrist. 

“He is okay,” I said. “Vanilla,” I added without thinking. 

His lips parted to show his white teeth, his grin widening.

“Vanilla was never good enough for you, was it?”

“No,” I admitted. 

“And when was the last time you had an orgasm?” He asked, his fingers pressed into my palm. 

It had been so long since he did this. Since he made my mind think his hand was in my pussy without ever touching it. 

It almost felt like they went between my pussy lips. 

“Last week,” I said panting. 

I bit my lip, trying to control myself. 

He smiled. 

“Was it good?”, his fingers pressing my palm. I felt them move inside me. 

I gasped. 

“Yes. No.” I tried to order my thoughts. “This is better,” I said earnestly, without thinking. 

He pushed deeper inside, and I couldn’t control myself anymore. 

Everyone heard me yelp, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered were his honey eyes. 

“How big is he?” He said, no jealousy, just curiosity. His fingers pushed forward and back. 

I felt him pushing them inside, fingering me. 

It was hard to focus. 

“How big is he?” He repeated. 

“Not as big as you,” I said stiffly. 

His smile was wide, proud. 

“Do you like the taste of his cock?” He kept relentlessly playing with my palm. Playing with my pussy.

I nodded.

His fingers circled the back of my thumb. It felt like his fingers were circling my clit. 

“Do you like the taste of his cum?” He said. 

I tapped my foot desperately. 

“Yes. Sort of. I Want yours. Yours tasted better, your cum, your cock.” I said out loud. 

People moved away from us. We didn’t care. 

His eyes pulled me back. 

“Has he filled all your holes?” His thumb pushed from the middle of my palm to my wrist. 

It was like he was fucking my ass. 

“No!” I said, gritting my teeth. “You are the only one that has.” I panted. 

“Can he reach all the way up inside your cunt?” 

I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The cup of coffee fell to the floor as my free hand reached between my legs. 

“No.” I confessed with tears in my eyes, “You are the only one,” I said desperately. 

“Do you want to cum?” He said. 

“Yes.” I pleaded. 

“Do you miss my cock?” 

He wanted me to say it. 

He pressed his thumb over my palm. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” I whimpered. 

“Louder.” He pressed harder inside.

“YES,” I screamed. 

“Do you miss the taste?”

“Yes,” I said. 

My hands roamed my body upwards, fondling my breasts in the middle of the cafe. 

It was almost empty except for the staff and the people that were enjoying the show. 

“Would you like to taste me again?”

My fingers touched my lips. I wanted his cock. His cum. 

“Yes,” I said softly, desperately, filled with unthinking desire. 

I sucked my fingers. “Yes,” I repeated with my mouth full. 

He didn’t let go of my hand and helped me up. Pulling me close. 

“Where do you live?” He asked me. 

I told him. 

“Should I take you home?”

“Please?” I said, looking up at him. 

He snapped his fingers. 

One moment I was in his car, the next I was by the entrance of my home, the next I was in the bedroom. 

He was naked, sitting in my marital bed. It wasn’t his eyes that I couldn’t take my sight from. 

His rigid cock was twitching and waiting. 

“Would you like to take off your clothes?” He asked. 

I nodded and undressed, dancing to music that only I could hear. 

I began by unbuttoning my blouse, letting it fall to the floor. 

Next came the skirt, one leg on the bed. He unzipped it from the side. 

I stepped out of it. 

I began to take off my bra. 

“Leave it.” He said with a hungry grin. 

I complied. 

Finally, I took off my panties, the same ones that I bought for my honeymoon with my husband. 

“Kneel,” He ordered. I did. 

“Would you like to taste it?” He said, placing a hand over his cock. 

I nodded. 

“Lick it, my good girl.” 

I shuddered. I was his good girl. 

I had always been. 

I would always be his good girl.

“Is it as good as you remember?” He said and caressed my hair. 

I nodded, looking up at him. 

“Make me cum, my good girl.” 

I felt a shiver go down my body. 

I knew what he liked; I knew how to make him cum better than I did anyone else. 

Licking under his cock, playing with the head, getting it all the way down my throat. 

I felt every motion inside my pussy. 

My mouth was an extension of my pussy. 

I felt the pleasure grow as I bobbed. 

As it came inside and I pulled out. 

I played with my clit and relished the smell of his musk. 

He filled my mouth with his cum and I rolled my eyes as pleasure hit me at the same time. 

His hands were on my face, holding the back of my neck. 

I pulled back, slowly, letting drool and cum fall to the floor, to the bed. 

I gulped what was left of the bitter and salty taste, it coated my tongue and my throat. 

I smiled at him. 

“Would you fuck my ass?” I asked from between his legs, his cock still hard against my cheek. 

He knelt by my side, cleaned the cum from my face, and kissed me. 

“Of course,” he said and pushed me against the bed. 

Marcus searched the bedside. He knew where it was. He didn’t need to ask. 

The dildo that I still used to fuck my ass, despite Alvin never asking why, and the lub that I used. 

Marcus positioned himself behind me and pushed two lubricated fingers inside. 

I gasped. It was cold. 

He coated his cock. 

“Relax,” He whispered over my shoulder, and pushed himself inside my anal cavity. 

This was why we broke up. 

I was addicted to this. 

This was bad for me. I couldn’t live without this. 

I tried to get away from this, but he found me. 

My body never forgot and kept craving him, his cock, his hands, his lips, his body. 

He moved. 

I blanked out.

I was lost in pleasure. 

His fingers pushed inside my pussy, pressing into my g-spot. His palm pushed against my clit. 

One hand firmly caressed my hips, his thumb reached the small of my back. He moved upwards, pushing a feeling up my spine until he reached my shoulder. He leaned forward and bit my neck at the same time he groped my chest. 

I could not think. All I could do was make incoherent sounds. 

“Would you like to be my slave again?” He whispered into my ear. 

I gasped and nodded. 

“Would you like to be my hotwife slave?” He rephrased his question, pushing his fingers inside my pussy. 

His hips moving, pulling, and pushing his cock inside my ass. I could feel him twitch just below my belly. 

“Yes,” I managed to articulate between groans and moans. 

“YES,” I repeated.

“YES,” I yelled and came at the same time as he came inside me. He groaned and panted. 

I could see nothing but brightness and then everything went black. 

We collapsed on the floor. 

My body was still shuddering. 

He moved and pulled himself out of me. It came with a pop. 

I moaned. I could feel the warmth of his cum inside me, trying to escape. 

“When is your husband coming home?” he said, making circles over my nipples and groping my tits from time to time. 

“It shouldn’t take him too long now,” I said, snuggling next to him. 

“Would you make him my slave?” He sat beside the bed. 

I shuddered, a smile trembling on my lips. I moved down and began to lick his cock clean, and said, “Whatever you ask, master.”