"I just want to rip that dress off you, shove you against the wall, and spread those sweet ass cheeks wide. I'd fuck you so hard you'd scream my name, over and over—my name."
Nadia's jaw nearly dislocated itself from how far it dropped.
'He's... imagining me? Like that? Like a... a feral animal?!'
Her heart hammered in her chest like it owed money to a mob boss. She gripped the doorframe for dear life, her knees shaking under the weight of her spiraling thoughts.
"Then you'd bend over, lips wrapped around my cock, begging me—begging me—to ruin that tight little pussy of yours."
His words hit her like a freight train loaded with shame, lust, and something she refused to name.
'Oh god, oh god, oh god… this can't be happening. H-he's talking about me!'
Her face turned crimson, the heat traveling down her neck, pooling in places she really didn't want to think about. But her traitorous body didn't care about her dignity. The warm, wet sensation between her thighs betrayed her completely.
"Yeah, you'd love it," he growled, his hips bucking as his hand picked up speed. "You'd beg me to wreck you, to fill you up with every drop of my seed until you couldn't walk straight."
Nadia's breath hitched, her eyes glued to the spectacle. His cock—thick, veiny, and terrifyingly impressive—looked like it was sculpted by the gods, and right now, it was the star of the most X-rated drama she had never asked to see.
'He... he actually wants me... Oh, fuck, why is this so... so...'
Her mind was a swirling mess, but her body had already made its decision. Her nipples hardened under her thin nightie, her thighs pressed together instinctively, and her breathing grew shallow.
And yet, even as her arousal clawed at her sanity, a tiny voice in the back of her head whispered, 'What the fuck are you doing just standing here?!'
But her feet refused to move. Her eyes remained locked on Artis, who was lost in his fantasy—her fantasy now, too, if she was being honest with herself. The tension was suffocating, her body trembling with every obscene word he groaned.
And god help her, she couldn't look away.
'I can't take this anymore.'
Nadia thought, her breath hitching as her body betrayed every ounce of her willpower.
Her hand slid under her nightie and into her freshly donned panties, fingers trembling as they found her aching clit. A bolt of electricity shot through her body at the first touch, her knees nearly giving out.
'Oh god, it feels so fucking good.'
She bit her lip to stifle a gasp, her eyes glued to Artis. Every stroke of his hand on that impossibly thick cock sent her deeper into her forbidden fantasies. Her free hand braced against the doorframe as her hips began to move on their own, grinding against her fingers.
Meanwhile, Artis groaned, completely oblivious to the peeping, panting mess just outside his door.
"Nadia... Nadia," he moaned, her name like a prayer on his lips. "You'll be mine. All mine. Your lips, your tongue, those perfect tits... that ass..."
Nadia's fingers quickened their pace, circling her clit with growing desperation. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts, her heart hammering like it was trying to escape her chest.
"And when you come to me, I'll trick you just like last night. I'll have you begging—begging—for me to fill you, to ruin you, to mark you so thoroughly you'll never look at another man."
Her knees buckled at his words. She was losing herself, completely consumed by the lewd spectacle and the symphony of her own wanton thoughts.
Everything she had meticulously planned in her head was crumbling faster than her husband's excuses after a night of drinking. Someone—someone with an actual pulse—wanted her.
Desired her in a way that made her knees weak and her panties, well, absent.
And all she had to do? Just walk up to Artis like she always did, let him "accidentally" ravage her, and then claim she was a helpless victim of his clearly predatory ways. Technically, in her twisted logic, she wouldn't be cheating.
No, Artis would simply be taking advantage of poor, innocent her—the married woman with absolutely no agency in the matter whatsoever.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the fantasy that was steamrolling her common sense.
"Just say yes, Nadia...Please. Let me show you the time of your life."
Through the slight crack in the door, she saw him stand, his shadow elongating like some overendowed demon god. And sweet mercy, he was walking toward her, still naked, holding her panty like it was the Holy Grail.
Her brain screamed, Run, you fool! but her feet were firmly planted, as if the sticky heat between her thighs had superglued her to the floor.
Artis brought her panties to his face like he was about to perform a wine tasting.
"Whoa!! The smell of your pussy and cum still lingers on this panty. Fuck!"
Nadia's breath hitched. Every word he said was a wrecking ball to her already fragile resistance.
"I'd eat your pussy like it's a five-star gourmet meal... Licking the lips, sucking your clit, fucking you with my tongue, and making you cum so hard you'd forget your damn name."
He licked the crotch of her panties, closing his eyes as if savoring the taste.
"Oh, the nectar of your pussy... I cannot wait to suck it all."
Nadia's heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Her whole body trembled with equal parts horror, arousal, and a desperate need to do something very, very bad.
'Goddamn it, why does this feel so... hot?'
"Fuck, Nadia. I'd eat your pussy anytime you ask me to. Hell, even if you didn't ask. Public? Private? Your bastard husband snoring on the couch? Don't care. I'd spread those gorgeous legs and bury my face so deep you'd think I was mining for treasure."
His hand worked his cock like a man possessed, each pump a declaration of filthy intent.
"I'd suck you dry, make you squirt all over me, then flip you over and fuck you in the ass. Just the tip, Nadia. Just the tip. That's all I'm asking."
Her brain short-circuited.
'F-f-f-fuck.'
She was too far gone to care, too caught up in the heat, in his words, in the raw, shameless desire spilling from his lips like dirty poetry.
Unaware—or maybe just unwilling to stop herself—she leaned closer, her knees hitting the floor in a quiet thud. Artis was right there, standing just a few centimeters away, oblivious to her bent form.
Her face was level with his cock now, the slick, throbbing thing practically begging for attention. She should've moved, should've run, but her eyes were locked onto it like a moth to a flame.
'Goddamn, it's bigger up close...'
She glanced up, heart pounding, and saw his face still buried in her panties, inhaling like he was trying to snort her essence straight into his soul. He still hadn't noticed her, too lost in his own ecstasy.
Her breath hitched as she leaned closer, her lips parting slightly. The heavy, masculine musk of him filled her senses, heady and intoxicating, making her stomach flip and her thighs clench.
Artis's groans reached a fever pitch, his entire body stiffening like a drawn bowstring.
"Oh, gods! I'm gonna cum!"
He roared, his voice echoing in the stillness of the room.
Nadia's breath hitched. Her fingers froze mid-stroke as her heart hammered like a war drum.
Her body trembled, caught between shame and pure, raw excitement. She wanted to see it. To witness that cock—his cock—erupt like some depraved volcano.
And oh, she was so close herself, teetering on the edge of her own release.
"OH FUCK!"
Artis's shout shattered the silence, his muscles jerking as if a bolt of lightning had struck him.
At the same time, Nadia felt the dam inside her break. A wave of heat surged through her, stealing her breath as her pussy clenched around nothing, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave.
"AHHHH!"
And then it happened. His cock throbbed, his thick shaft pulsing as a jet of hot cum shot from the tip with the force of a firehose.
The first splatter hit her square on the face, warm and sticky, dripping down her cheek like some unholy baptism.
Her eyes went wide, lips parting in a gasp. She should have moved. Should have dodged. But no, she stayed rooted to the spot, frozen in a mix of shock and...something she couldn't quite admit to herself.
Another spurt followed, then another, painting her face with streaks of white. It was obscene, humiliating, and yet...she couldn't deny the thrill coursing through her veins.
Artis inhaled her panties like a man deprived of oxygen, his nostrils flaring as he rode out the waves of his climax.