Page 6 of Rim Job

Am I wearing her ring?

My God, I feel like a total piece of shit. I’ve never been a homewrecker before. This, this is why I maintain control and structure in my life. The one time I let my guard down,BAM!I wake up next to a married stranger.

Good job, Ti. Good job.

I drink in the stranger’s form one last time.What? I’m only human, and he is hot even if he is a two-timing sleaze.

I ease myself slowly out of the bed and then dart around the room as stealthily as a hung-over woman can, plucking my clothes from the piles strewn across the floor. My dress fights me when I try to pull it on over my head.

The two-timer groans from the bed.

I freeze, my arms in midair, trapped within the fabric. Peeking through the low-cut V of my dress where my boobs should be, I try not to breathe. I do not want this man to see me. If I don't move, maybe I'll magically become invisible. I can’t deal with what I’ve done.

“Ughh, love. Come back to bed. You are up way too early.”

His accent doesn’t go unnoticed by my slutty vagina.

Down girl. You’ve caused enough damage.

I stay frozen.

“Are you here?”

Oh, my God.

He’s fucking British. The sound of his accented voice causes my clit to throb, like he’s calling to her, his siren song lulling her.

Does he think I’m his wife?

How humiliating. We had what I am assuming was great sex and this asshole can’t even remember it?

Well, shit. I can’t either.

Can't really be mad at him for that. Maybe that’s a good thing since I’m now an accomplice to an extra marital affair. I can’t believe I let myself get so out of control that I would allow this to happen.

“Sweetheart, come back to bed. Your husband needs you,” he moans as he stretches, his hand pushing downward on his thickening cock.

That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. He rolls onto his side, and I finally get a look at his face. A gasp slips from my lips. Sleepy blue eyes blink at me from under dark lashes as he tries to focus on me. The symmetrical perfection of his face. Hair that sticks up all over the place, likely from my fingers tugging on it while he pummeled me with that massive cock monster. His eyes finally focus on me, still trapped in my dress.

“What on earth are you doing?” The corners of his mouth tilt up into an adorable crooked smile, and I sigh.

Apparently, everything he does is sexy.

I’m frozen in place. He must not realize that I’m most definitely not his wife. I push my way through the material surrounding me, finally free myself, and tug my dress down my body.

“I’m not your wife,” I answer with my eyes focused on my bare feet.

“You’re not? Who are you then?”

“Christina.” There’s a slight chip in the red polish on my big toe. My eyes fill with tears as the humiliation and shame of this situation wash over me. I can’t believe I’ve slept with another woman’s husband. I’m the lowest of the fucking low. Scum, the shit that feeds on scum. The shit from the shit that feeds on scum.

“So, Christina, if you are not my wife, then how do you explain what has taken place here?”

I raise my head in time to witness him slyly smile as he fans those big, long fingers down the expanse of his naked body, showcasing its honed perfection. My eyes track his hand’s path. This man must live at the gym. There isn’t one part of his body that isn’t hard, toned muscle. Saliva floods my mouth. Leave it to me to fuck this perfect specimen of a man and not remember a damn thing. I’m a homewrecking whore, and what’s worse is, I can’t even remember it.

Total slut move, Christina, total slut.

“It was a mistake. I don’t even remember it. I’m not a homewrecker.”

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