The sweetness and tartness of lemonade remind me of us
I may be with you now, but in the morning, you’ll be with your husband when he returns from his business trip.
We sit in your backyard, sipping lemonade. I glance at your chest, my body filling with hot arousal when I see the outline of your stiff nipples through the thin white fabric of your tank top. A smirk appears on your face when you notice my wandering gaze. With an exaggerated “O” expression, you “accidentally” spill lemonade onto your top, causing the fabric to become see-through.
“Oops,” you say with a giggle, sounding like a girl in one of those silly porn videos. “Guess I need to take this shirt off.”
My cock hardens when you pull off your tank top and reveal your perfect tits, which are wet with lemonade. Licking my lips, I lean in toward you until my mouth is only an inch away from your chest. I smile at you before closing the distance and closing my mouth over your breast. You gasp as I suck on your skin, which is sweet and tart just like the lemonade…and just like us.
I may be with you now, but in the morning, you’ll be with your husband when he returns from his business trip. I know you love me more than you love him, but you say you need to stay with him because he needs you more. I don’t know how that’s possible because I find it fucking hard to breathe when I go more than a day without seeing you, but I know there’s no changing your mind. My friends say I’m whipped, and they’re probably right, but being inside your cunt is as close to heaven that I’d ever get.
“I want your cock inside me,” you groan.
Ever willing to please, I yank down my pants, letting out my aching dick. You lick your lips. I know we’re both thinking of last night, when your pretty little mouth sucked my cock until I spilled my cum down your throat. At the memory of your semen-covered lips, I almost come. I will my cock to calm down because I need to attend to your pussy first. Say what you want about me, but I’m not a selfish lover.
I tear off your shorts and panties. I growl as I take in the sight of the little blond curls on your cunt. So perfect and mine, if only for the night.
You pull me close to you, greedy and impatient for the orgasm only I can give you. You’ve been married to your husband for five years, but not once has he ever made you explode with ecstasy. Before meeting me, you thought that you were incapable of orgasms. Fortunately, I showed you that you were wrong — very wrong — about that.
I shove my prick inside your pussy, and you scream out my name. Your neighbors can probably hear you. I should probably remind you to try to keep it down because you want to keep our affair a secret, but selfishly, I want to hear you cry out for me. I slide my cock deeper into you, and you scream my name even louder.
“Do I fuck you better than your husband?” I ask, thrusting into you.
“Yes!” you shout, arching your back and taking in more of my manhood.
When your cunt strangles my prick, I groan, fucking loving the feeling. I’m about to explode. Thankfully, I feel you squirt onto my prick before I come inside you and fill your pussy with my hot white seed.
We embrace each other, both of us breathless. Although you fucking wreck me every time you return to your husband, the sweetness of the moments I have with you is worth it. Like lemonade, I’ll take everything about being your lover — the pain and the pleasure, the sadness and the joy, the tartness and the sweetness.