Page 2 of I F*cked Somebody’s Wife

“You so nasty,” I whispered, thrusting into her throat. “So fuckin’ nasty. That’s how I like it, baby.”

I yanked her up, flipped her around, and bent her over the sink. That ass? stupid fucking fat. I slid in, deep and mean. No warning. Her back arched, mouth open in a scream.

“F-fuck…p-please,” she whimpered, eyes beggin’ for mercy in the mirror.

I grabbed her throat, leaning to her ear. “Speak up for me, baby. I can’t hear you.”

Her walls clenched, and I swear, I almost nutted right there. I gripped her hips and thrust. She was so wet I could hear the gush over the bass thumpin’ outside.

“This my pussy now,” I grunted in her ear. “We go together, real fuckin’ bad!”

When we came, it was violent. Loud. Her nails left trails down the mirror, and my hand released her throat.

We stood there, breathless, bodies twitchin’. Then she looked at me. Something in her had a li’ fear, I could see it.

“I..I’m married,” She said, voice barley above a whisper.

Everything inside me wentsilent.

Married?

I should’ve known. Pussy like hers ain’t nevernotput up.

I pulled away slow. Backed up, my eyes scanned her. She looked like guilt had just came and took a fat ass shit on her face.

“Re-..” I chuckled, flatly. “Repeat that shit for me.”

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have—”

“You let me fuck you raw…and you somebody wife?” I laughed once. Low and hollow.

She tried to talk again, but I was already gone.

I wanted to be pissed off at ha’. But I wasn’t I was more so pissed that her nigga had her pussy and I didn’t. That’s what really pissed me off, I mean yeah I was mad about her havin’ a nigga. But not nearly as mad as when I thought about how her pussy just made me nut in five minutes, and she was prolly gon’ go home and hand it off to another nigga.

I laid in bed, wide awake. I couldn’t sleep.

I’d smoked two blunts back to back, sittin’ in the loft looking out the window replayin’ the way her moan sounded. How she said ‘please.’

But she belonged to another nigga?

No.

Fuck that.

I pulled out my phone. Called one of my li’ hacker homies and had him do what he do. In twenty minutes, I had her name, her job, her bitch ass niggas name,andher address.

I was there in twenty minutes.

Nice li’ house in the hills. Gated. Two cars in the driveway. All cute n’shit.

I parked across the street, engine off, just watchin’. My gun sat low on my lap. A blunt burning slow in my mouth. I leaned back and smiled for the first time in years.

She thought us fuckin’ was aone-timething.

But baby, I’m Fontaine Wells.

And best believe when I want some shit, I gets it.

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