Last Night's Secrets at Steve's

The rain hammered against the windows of Steve’s house, a relentless percussion accompanying the awkward tension hanging in the air. My wife, Lacy, and I had reluctantly accepted an invitation to a birthday party thrown for my friend, Steve. The thought of enduring Stacy, Steve’s wife and my former lover, was enough to make my stomach churn. Adding to the discomfort was the prospect of sleeping over at their place, a situation I’d hoped to avoid. But Steve is one of my most trusted confidantes, and I couldn’t bear to disappoint him.

Steve’s wife, Stacy, possessed a certain venomous charm that always managed to prickle my skin. She frequently flirted with me, a blatant disregard for my marriage, and I found myself embarrassed by her behavior, though I’d never let it become a point of contention between us. Lacy, bless her heart, had been warned about Stacy's manipulative tendencies, but she was clearly not phased. I’d made it abundantly clear to her that she had nothing to fear from Stacy, as I cherished our life together, and I would frequently remind her of it. Lacy knew Stacy was adept at exploiting past connections, hinting at our shared history and playing on my insecurities, but she refused to let it unravel our happiness. She understood the importance of protecting our relationship, and I appreciated her fierce loyalty.

The party was in full swing, filled with the usual mix of boisterous laughter, forced small talk, and the clinking of glasses. Stacy, as expected, made her presence known, her eyes constantly scanning the room, lingering on me with an unsettling intensity. She cornered me near the bar, offering a saccharine smile and a casual remark about how “good it was to see me.” It was a blatant attempt to stir up trouble, and I recognized it immediately. Lacy, observing from across the room, took a generous gulp of her wine, her expression hardening with each sip. The air thickened with unspoken tension.

Later, as the evening wore on, and the music faded, the gathering dwindled down to just us, Lacy, and a couple, Mike and Anna. Stacy, seemingly satisfied with her efforts to sow discord, drifted off with Anna, leaving us alone with the remnants of the party. It wasn't long before Lacy’s wine consumption escalated, fueled by frustration and a desire to forget about Stacy. The conversation deteriorated rapidly, fueled by alcohol and simmering resentment. It culminated in a full-blown argument, a torrent of bitter words and accusations that left both of us breathless.

In a fit of exasperation, Lacy stormed off toward the stairs, her movements unsteady and fueled by emotions she couldn't contain. Without hesitation, I followed her, determined to prevent our disagreement from escalating further. As she navigated the steps, her heel caught on the edge of the carpet, sending her tumbling forward. She landed awkwardly, her skirt riding up to reveal a glimpse of her bare backside. The sight, unexpected and undeniably provocative, momentarily stunned me. Lacy, mortified, quickly tugged her skirt down, muttering something about my inappropriate reaction. Despite her attempt to regain control, her wobbly gait betrayed her intoxication. She stumbled again, nearly losing her balance, and I instinctively reached out to steady her.

“Oh, my hero!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, a playful jab at my chivalrous intervention. I gently lifted her into my arms, carrying her toward our bedroom, a small sanctuary where we could hopefully escape the remnants of the night’s drama. Once inside, she deposited herself onto the bed, her movements more erratic than usual. “What, you’re just going to leave me here and go find that whore again?” she demanded, her voice laced with venom.

Knowing that reason had abandoned her, I made the pragmatic decision to let her cool down or, failing that, seek refuge in sleep. I opened the door and stepped out into the living room, where Mike and Anna were still enjoying the last of the beer. Stacy was nowhere to be seen. The men continued their conversation, seemingly oblivious to the chaos unfolding in the bedroom. After about thirty minutes, I returned to check on Lacy. She had risen from the bed, her demeanor noticeably calmer and more subdued – and a touch embarrassed.

“I’m sorry for letting her get to me,” she said, her voice soft and sincere. “If you want to stay, I’ll be a good girl now.” Then, with a bashful smile, she dropped her skirt slightly, revealing her freshly shaven pussy with a heart-shaped landing strip on top. “You like my smooth pussy? I shaved it just for you, baby.” The unexpected action, a blatant disregard for her usual modesty, caught me completely off guard. It was clear she had anticipated a more dramatic ending to the night, a calculated move to ensure our happiness.

“Mmmm, you do like it, don’t you, baby?” she murmured, rubbing her mound with increasing intensity. Her lips parted slightly as she swelled with anticipation. She took a step or two backward, perched precariously on the edge of a small writing desk, and continued to caress her pussy while I slowly moved to stand between her open legs and watch her work her hairless pleasure zone over.

As Lacy reached to grab at my cock, I gently pushed her hand aside, shaking my head in gentle refusal. I didn't want the distraction from the magnificent display unfolding before me: Lacy, panting and moaning, her hand slapping against her pussy with increasing urgency. “Ooooh, I’m cumming…” she cried, her voice filled with raw desire.

Moments later, I took her hand, gently pulling it towards my face and sucking on her cummy fingers, savoring the sensation as she begged wordlessly—so incredibly hot and sexy! The pleasure was palpable, electrifying, and overwhelmingly intense.

Finally, I pulled her legs up with my forearms, bracing them against the bedspread, and continued the relentless pounding strokes. Watching her tits bounce between her thighs, I felt a surge of primal satisfaction. As my orgasm built, I gripped her arms, pulling them close to my chest, and began to descend into her wet, receptive pussy. The rhythmic thrusts continued, each one accompanied by a gasp of pleasure from Lacy, as her body responded with spasms and moans. The air filled with the scent of arousal, a heady mix of sweat and anticipation.

Letting go of her arms, I scooped her legs up with my forearms, holding them in place as she leaned her head against my chest, her body trembling with ecstasy. As she continued to writhe and moan, her pussy spasmed again, and a hot stream of fluid gushed forth, coating my skin. I smiled down at her, then rolled her face down, running my fingers through her wild tresses and down her back before pulling her hips upward to set her on her knees. Now the underside of my cock ran firmly along her pubic ridge, and I felt my orgasm building. Moaning and thrusting full force, I let my cock powerfully release into my gorgeous, sexy, perfect-for-me lover.

As weakness washed over me, I released Lacy’s arms, and she fell forward onto the bed, trembling with pure bliss. My cum dripped from her well-used pussy, a testament to our shared pleasure. When I climbed on the bed beside her, she rose to her elbows and rubbed my cummy cock with her lips, looking up at me with that finally-I’m-satisfied smile. Then, she opened her mouth, took my soft member in her mouth, and cleaned it with her tongue and a suction just gentle enough for my over-sensitive cock. I stroked her hair as she ministered to me, hoping it conveyed to her how very much I love and appreciate all she does for—and with—me. The rain continued to fall, a soothing soundtrack to our intimate moment, a perfect ending to an unforgettable night.

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