Just admit you love slutty girls.
She's still there right now. His hotel room in bed with him. The same sheets she fell asleep in last night with his body wrapped around hers.
Last weekend was just a few hours. A quick afternoon, barely enough time. Enough to make her flushed and satisfied but already wanting more. This weekend is different. This weekend she has all of him, Friday night, all day Saturday, waking up Sunday morning slow and unhurried with nowhere to be and no reason to rush.
Right now, in that hotel room, the morning light is coming through the curtains and she's half asleep against him. His body warm, his hands moving over her thigh and ass before either of them are fully awake. Two people who've already fucked each other last night and are rested and ready for more.
His cock is hard against her and she reaches for him, wrapping her hand around the thickness of him, feeling the weight of it, her body responding immediately the way it does with him. Wet before he even touches her. That ache of wanting to be filled by him again.
He pulls her underneath him.
Pushing inside he, she gasps into his neck, her nails finding his back, her hips rising to take all of him, deep and completely. Her body stretched around him the way it was made to be stretched by a man like him.
She loves this. The raw physical reality of it. The way he fucks her like he owns inside her body. The sounds she makes that she can't control and doesn't have too. She loves hotel sex.
Her orgasms come faster with him, harder, one rolling into the next until she's shaking and grabbing at him and telling him how much she loves to fucked by him.
This is just for her. Her weekend away from her husband and kids.
She loves him. Differently than she loves her husband, something she couldn't explain even if she tried. She just knows it's real. Knows it when he looks at her across a restaurant. Knows it when he pulls her close in the morning.
She couldn't get enough last weekend and now she has him until Sunday.
Her husband is at home right now thinking about exactly this. He always loved slutty girls. That thought comforts him in his bed alone with his wife gone.
Women who didn't apologize for their appetite, who dressed to be looked at, who fucked because they wanted to not because they were supposed to. Women with lip filler and crop tops and the particular confidence of someone who knows exactly what effect she has on men and leans into it completely.
He was always going to end up here. Every girl who cheated on him, every humiliation, every moment of inadequacy that carved out this particular hunger in him, it was all pointing at this. A wife who wakes up in another man's bed on a Sunday morning and takes him inside her again because she wants to. Because she can. Because her husband is at home aroused by the thought of it and she doesn't have to choose between any of the things she loves.
She has a home, a life, a husband who worships her.
And right now she has this.
His hands in her hair. His cock deep inside her. Her whole body alive in the most animalistic natural way.
This is the woman her husband was attracted too, who he fell in love with immediately.
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