the beach is back

Joel wasn’t one to talk while he fucked.

In fact, he didn’t like speaking at all.

And that suited you just fine—a man you were seeing for his dick alone didn’t need to be the monologuing type. Each night would come to pass in much the same way, with his naked body and yours moving in frantic tandem for ten to fifteen minutes, and in the shuffle of clothes and moans and ropes of Joel’s cum, you’d almost forgotten the sound of his voice. Worse yet, you didn’t really care one way or another what it sounded like at all.

Which is why your ears perked up in surprise when, one night, you were putting on your clothes and you heard:

“You seem eager to leave.”

You paused.

“I do?”

“Yeah,” Joel said. He tipped his chin to where he saw you’d thrown your skirt on your body so fast you hadn’t even noticed the thing was inside out. Then he folded his arms over his broad, bare chest. “Got somewhere to be?”

You did.

You had a date that night, and this brief, sweaty encounter with Joel had been but a prelude to an evening spent with someone else—an old friend, Frankie.

A nice guy.

Nothing like Joel, who was now looking at you with all the intrigue of someone forced to watch the rerun of a TV show they didn’t particularly care to see. He blinked.

Why bother hiding it?

“Dinner,” you answered. That should be enough.

“With who?”

Why the hell would he guess it was with anyone else? You fixed your skirt and reached for your socks and shirt.

“Frankie,” you told him anyway.

“Frankie Morales?”

That made you stop dressing. You’d just pulled your top over your head when you fixed a puzzled look on Joel.

In the seven months you’d been fucking him, he had never asked once about friends, family, pets—hell, even your last name. You just did what you did and typically got two to three orgasms out of it every time you visited. Not useless information about who you were dining with.

His eyes said he wanted to know, though, so you said it.

“Yeah, him. I’ll see ya around, Joel.”

And you’d meant to leave it at that.

You had no real desire to stay, no interest in keeping a conversation alive with someone you didn’t care yourself whether he was living or dead, so you toted your boots with you and chose to put them on outside his bedroom. Dressing as you walked, and hoping not to need to say another word to Joel, you worked quickly and quietly.

And almost tripped down the stairs when you heard his voice again, booming from the threshold of his room:

“You know Frankie can’t fuck to save his life, right?”

Now Joel sounded smug. His body was bare, save for his boxers, and above that broad, glorious expanse of flesh, you could see the eyes glittering. He didn’t need to smile.

You kicked on your left boot and shuffled for the right. You tried not to let that look unnerve you as you did.

“Who said I’m fucking him?”

“That little skirt says you might.”

You glanced down at the blue scrap of fabric you’d just had to fix. You hadn’t thought much of it when putting it on that day, but maybe Joel saw more there than you.

“What does that mean?” you called back up to him while continuing down the stairs. Adjusting your other clothes.

In response, Joel followed. He never left the bedroom behind you—unless going to lock the back door after you’d departed or snagging a postcoital Heineken. This felt weird, and you didn’t try to hide your feelings when you turned to see him descend the stairs. You frowned.

“Every time you wear that skirt, we fuck at least three times. No exceptions. It’s like your calling card for being a needy, greedy little—” Joel stopped when you scoffed.

“Shut up.”

You pivoted back toward the kitchen, where the old oak door practically begged for your exit. This was bizarre.

“You are,” Joel rejoined all the same, unfazed, “Every time, I mean it. And by my count, we only fucked twice tonight, which means you’re clearly saving that energy for a romp in the hay with old Frankie boy. Am I right?”

Joel had never spoken this many words to you in his life, much less one night. You continued to tread through the kitchen, though you could sense your gait was slow. The cogs in your brain were all working overtime to ascertain why the ever-living fuck this man was acting like he was.

“I don’t…” you started, then stopped. Shook your head.

Your feet stopped just shy of the door leading out to the back porch, and right when you were about to turn, you felt hands on your hips from behind. You inhaled sharply.

“I’m right, ain’t I?” Joel repeated. His voice was lower.

Suddenly, you didn’t want to face him again. Instead of spinning on your heels and feeling his grip shift beneath it, you reached for the door. You tried to brush him away.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Miller.”

Your hand had scarcely made one turn on the doorknob when it was pried off completely. You let out a squeal, reflexively, though it wasn’t uncommon for Joel to manhandle you as he pleased. He was a prick like that.

It never really bothered you, seeing as most times those hands were on your body they were there to give you pleasure. But tonight, it was different. He was different. Things didn’t seem to have quite the same plainly sexual charge as they did on other nights. Joel was still rough.

Unlike a gentleman, he didn’t flip you around for your gaze to find his. He simply jerked your body in place.

His groin met your ass, and you felt that he was hard.

“I think you know exactly what I mean, sweet pea,” Joel said, reaching upward to place a hand near your throat.

Then he added, low, “I think you’re holdin’ out on me.”

You bucked under his grip, but you didn’t fight much.

“And I’m the needy one.” You flashed a wry smile.

Though Joel couldn’t see it, he could feel it, probably. You didn’t protest any harder because, in spite of your own disdain, you couldn’t deny that the push and pull of it was fun. You’d never seen him anything close to this before—possessive—but if you knew how he acted when he wanted to make a point, you sensed it would be good.

When you felt the hand that had brushed up to your neck now make a fist through the strands at the back of your head, you smiled again—this time with some pleasure.

Joel yanked your face back to turn and meet his, finally, while your ass remained glued to his front. He grunted, you sighed, and in the dim, yellow light of the kitchen, you felt a nudge between your legs. Another hand had evidently lifted your skirt and pushed it up the small of your back while you were distracted by the pull on your hair, and now Joel’s boxers were shoved down. His cock was prodding between your folds, nearing the hole he’d just fucked minutes ago. You weren’t wearing panties.

“Miller,” you told him. A warning. “I’m gonna be late.”

“I’ll bet,” he sneered. “You just say the word, I’ll stop.”

For all his pent-up aggression and hostility, Joel never would’ve forced himself on you—or in you. The two of you had a safeword for that. If at any point you wanted things to stop, you simply said ‘time-out’ and the sex would end, no questions asked. You could tell him now.

You could make it to your date with Frankie on time. Leave the flaming shitshow that was Joel Miller and spend the night with someone who actually liked you.

But that wouldn’t quell the need you had, now would it?

“Time-out?” Joel hummed, impossibly close to your ear.

You strained against him; you tried freeing yourself from his grip knowing full well you wouldn’t have even half a shot unless you said that word. You sucked in a breath.

“I…hate you,” you grit through your teeth on the exhale.

Contempt dripped with every syllable. Your derision may as well have been written on your face, but it still wasn’t enough to make him stop. You hadn’t used the safeword.

That was a choice. Joel pushed you to the kitchen table.

And, no sooner had your hands flown out to catch yourself on the smooth, wooden surface than the man was pushing back inside. The slide was easy. The passage aided by your last two climaxes and the arousal left pooling again, you could feel it: you were wet. Pliant. Spread with your ass pointed up and your fingers seeking purchase on any free corner you could reach.

You were no more to the man than a sentient cocksleeve.

Possessive as Joel was, that was all this could be: greed.

Desire.

Control.

Not wanting to share with another what he fairly owned.

Joel didn’t have it within himself to give you anything beyond that. You might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

“You’re mine,” he seethed. His hips snapped like he couldn’t get deep enough. “Y’hear me? This is mine.”

Then, as if to punctuate his words, his thrusts sped up.

Mine, mine, mine.

Your eyes rolled, and your stomach turned. You seized the edge of the table even harder just for your muscles to give and your forearms to hit the surface beneath you. Head lolling forward with pleasure, pain, and shame, you let the man take what he needed, and you didn’t protest.

Because that was what you wanted. What you were.

“Yours,” you murmured back. “Y-Yours. All yours.”

“All mine.”

Alright, then.

Maybe you didn’t deserve a man like Frankie at all. With your lips parted, spit trailing down to your chin from either side, and your core making the most obscene sorts of noises with every sawing motion of Joel’s cock, you thought, idly, this might’ve been what you needed.

Your forehead dropped to the wood, and you whined.

Hot, bulbous, and no doubt leaking beads of desire with every stab inside your heat, Joel’s dick swelled and throbbed. You felt it graze just the right spot inside you, and your vision blurred. This was supposed to be for him, and here you were, on the precipice of your third release.

You didn’t mind.

Joel definitely didn’t mind.

All the man behind you needed to see was submission. Acceptance, or something close to it. You could tell from the way he grabbed your hips and told you to take it, take it, baby, let me use this pussy and make it mine.

You let him.

He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t entirely unkind, either.

Suddenly, you felt the heft of Joel’s stomach press to the base of your spine, then his chest sinking somewhere between your shoulder blades. He was blanketing you. Covering you completely while he rutted into your cunt like an animal in heat. You couldn’t deny that you liked it.

It made it feel all the more primal when next you felt his lips brush your ear and his breath fan over your cheek.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he grunted.

The term of endearment nearly stunned you as much as his arm winding in between your body and the table. His fingers found your clit, and you were helpless to respond to those words, simply jerking your chin and whimpering.

“Gonna show me what’s mine?” he pressed.

Another incoherent string of sounds paraded as words.

“Good.” Joel grinned; you could hear it in his voice. To your surprise, again, he pressed his lips to the space behind your ear, and he kissed it. His thrusts were shaking the table, and still, he kept hitting that spot.

Joel Miller had never kissed you anywhere on your body but your tits and in between your thighs. This was new.

This was unusual for him, circling your clit furiously while murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, like how good you were taking him, how sweet you felt, how no one but you would ever look so perfect on his cock—ever.

If you didn’t know better, you might say he was smitten.

But he couldn’t be.

You were just seconds from release and wanting to believe that there was some reason for his behavior.

Your eyes closed, and then pleasure supplanted those thoughts. This was stupid. No sense in attributing to affection what might adequately be explained by an erection—and Joel, as old as he was, had them often. You meant nothing to the man outside of these four walls and beyond what was in between your legs. That was it.

Another climax beckoned, and you let it in.

Joel’s length stretched you once, twice more, and suddenly you were melting again. Crying his name. Reaching back and fisting the sweat-dampened curls at the nape of his neck and falling apart under his weight.

Bliss flooded your body so swiftly it almost knocked you out. It seized your limbs, rendered them weak, and had your teeth grinding, eyes squeezing shut, and cunt fluttering over and over again while Joel kept pounding.

On and on and on and on, until all you felt was him.

“Let me cum inside you.” Joel’s voice reached you dimly. “Wanna paint these pretty insides with my seed, baby.”

You could scarcely believe what he was saying was real—that any of this, with his lips grazing your cheek and his belly nudging your back and the man calling you baby, could’ve been anything more than just a fever dream—until he said it again, all but begging, I’m so fuckin’ close, sweetheart, say our special word and I won’t.

Like before, all you had to do was tell him ‘time-out.’

Two syllables and he’d be spraying your lower back, rather than your walls, with his cum. It was simple.

You didn’t want simple.

You wanted him in you.

You wanted him filling you with his cum.

You nodded and told him that you wanted it, too. There wasn’t any point in pretending like you didn’t right now.

Joel unloaded rope after rope of sticky, dizzying warmth in your cunt within a second of your words. He held your back tight to his front, as if he might leak out or lose you completely if he didn’t squeeze you to him like a vise. His hips worked furiously, cock pumping in and out again and again until his balls were fully drained, and then he was rutting deeper, wedging further like he needed to be as far inside your body as was possible. Like marking you was his top priority, and cum was the means of doing it.

He’d been finished for almost a minute and he was still panting by your ear, still holding himself inside your heat.

Joel had always pulled out and stayed out when he was done having his fill with your body before. Tonight, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your neck, then your cheek and murmured something into your skin about needing that, and wanting to feel that every time.

You pressed your nose to the now-soiled surface of the kitchen table and let out a breath. You shook your head.

What the fuck were you doing here with him?

This was weird. Wrong. Not like Joel at all.

Shakily, you braced your palms on the table and began to try and push up. Joel’s weight was suffocating, suddenly.

“I’m— I’m gonna be late. Get off me, please.”

“Wh—” The voice was strained. Softer.

“I said get off me, Joel. Now.”

And he did.

His cum came trailing along with his cock’s withdrawal. It smeared your thighs. You felt it dribble from your just-fucked cunt and couldn’t help but wince. This was dumb.

And here comes goodbye.

Dinner was fine.

The meal was as fun and satisfying as one could be with another man’s spend drying casually between your legs.

You hadn’t bothered to wipe it off. You were already over twenty minutes late for your date with Frankie, and you apologized profusely when you got to the little hole-in-the-wall spot you were supposed to be meeting him for dinner. I’m so, so sorry it took me this long. You weren’t normally like that. No worries at all, I already ordered us some appetizers, if that’s alright. Joel Miller got the very first helping of the meal, and Frankie didn’t even know it.

You ate with what felt like a thousand flames lapping at your cheeks the whole time. Frankie was a great guy. He didn’t leer at your ass or tits or remark on your body at all, except to say that you looked lovely; didn’t ogle you like a piece of meat, or tell you how eager he was to get himself off in your cunt when the night was over and he finally had you alone. He smiled sweetly. Listened well.

“If you kiss him, let him get a taste of me right ‘ere,” Joel had murmured to you, right before he slid his spent, slippery cock between your lips. You were on your knees for him, for some reason, feeling ashamed.

“OK, Joel. But I— I need to go. He’ll be expecting me.”

“Want me to walk you up?” Frankie asked presently.

You blinked.

The date was over and you were standing outside of your apartment building, brooding over a man who probably hadn’t spared you a thought since his cock had softened and he’d trudged back up to bed. You nodded weakly.

“Sure. Yeah. Of course.”

You ascended the stairs with Frankie in tow and remembered how Joel still hadn’t kissed you on the lips in the whole seven months he’d been spending between your legs. He hadn’t kissed you tonight, even after he’d pulled out of your mouth and tapped your lower lip with the head of his cock, like a smug and too-proud asshole.

“If a guy likes you, he’ll kiss you,” Joel told you, as if to rub salt in the still-aching wound. “Now, if Frankie does, he’ll get to see I came first. And if you take him home…”

The man’s words trailed off as you rose to your feet. You were barely standing a moment before two thick, callused fingers pushed back between your folds. You flinched when they glided down your slit and then pressed into your leaking cunt. As if trying to plug it up, and shove some more of his cum inside, Joel grinned while working his digits deeper. You rolled your eyes.

“…and if you let him lick you here, he’ll taste me again.”

You nearly shuddered at the memory. It had felt good.

Frankie’s hand was at your lower back now, guiding you out of the stairwell and into the hallway. One more turn around a corner and you’d be back home again. Left with the dilemma of whether to invite this nice man in or not.

You swallowed.

Together, you approached your apartment door.

“I had a nice time tonight,” Frankie said, smile bright.

“Me too,” you replied. And you meant it when you said it.

You had had such a good time tonight that you wished it wasn’t Joel Miller on your mind at the end of it. You wished you wanted better for yourself than someone who sought no deeper part of your life than the seven or eight he could squeeze inside you. It was absurd, really.

To be thinking of him when the man in front of you now was all hopeful looks and genuine wanting—another date, maybe? What the hell was wrong with you?

Just as you were about to purse your lips and wage the internal war on whether to invite Frankie in for drinks, your mind was made for you. No sooner had you placed your palm on the door than the thing was pulled inward—swinging open, and causing you to stumble sideways.

“Evenin’, you two.”

The asshole had never sounded more cheerful in his life.

He’d just opened your apartment door from the inside, and you’d nearly fallen straight into his chest. Luckily, you’d righted yourself before that had happened. You stepped backward, beside Frankie, your eyes wide.

Since when the fuck did he have a key to your—

Oh. Right. When you gave it to him last month.

Fuck.

“Joel,” you hissed, gaze narrowing again. “What are yo—”

“Thanks for gettin’ her back safe, Frank. I appreciate it.”

Frankie stood back, half-awed and half-confused.

He turned to you. “Wait. Is this your, uh…”

Joel smirked. Your cheeks burned.

“Pain in the ass? Yeah,” you grumbled shortly, before Joel could cut in. Then, glaring daggers at the man standing inside your home. “He was just leaving.”

He wasn’t.

You tugged at his shirt, and he wouldn’t budge an inch. Instead of being the one to yank him out, you found your wrist taken up in Joel’s grip and thrust in—toward the warmth of your home, toward him. The door slammed shut behind you both. Joel let go, and you nearly face-planted into your living room sofa. The second you heard the deadbolt click into place, you were scrambling to stand again. Adjusting your skirt—that fucking skirt he had to notice tonight—and seeing Joel turn to face you.

One hand was still on the doorknob.

The other was combing fingers through his hair.

“New rule,” he announced, as if this wasn’t fucking nuts, “No more dates with Frankie Morales. Or anyone else.”

“You fuckin—” you started, sharp.

Joel got closer; you tried to sidestep him. Though the move was deliberate, your motivation was wavering. Half-certain at best. You’d scarcely made it a foot by his body before an arm reached out, and you didn’t fight it.

You let him grab you and pull you toward the bedroom.

Great.

Another useless, mind-numbing night of pleasure.

You’d be strong enough to tell him no, someday.

And by the time you’d resigned yourself to this fate, and swore you’d start dating guys who actually wanted to see you in the light of day sometime soon, you were forced to stop. Joel turned you to face him again.

Before you’d made it to the bed, he redirected your course to your closet. He pointed over to it, stern.

“Now get changed,” he ordered.

What?

“What?”

Your brows pinched together. Joel didn’t flinch.

“For our date. Don’t want you wearin’ the same clothes you had on for him. And I’m takin’ you someplace nicer.”

You didn’t move, even when he drew closer to you.

“We gotta hurry, I already made the reservati—”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, Miller?”

Your eyes were wide. You needed answers, not instructions on what to do—with him telling you to put on clothes, rather than take them off. For at least the third time that night, you were shocked beyond belief.

“If this is some joke…” you spat, slowly moving back.

Before you could, Joel grabbed your wrists. Gentler than before. He didn’t let you stray too far, but he also didn’t invade your space. His eyes searched yours, and to your surprise, you saw something like sincerity painted there.

“I meant what I said. I’m takin’ you out to dinner, and…”

Joel trailed off, like he’d never spoken the words before. He shook his head to clear it. Then, meeting your gaze once more—and shocking you for the fourth time, said:

“…and if anyone’s takin’ you on a date—or wants to get a taste of you after—it’s gonna be me, honey. Only me.”

You had no idea what to say.

Rounding his numbers out for the night and making it a fifth, Joel surprised you again by leaning in to kiss you.

Directly on the lips.

Before he took you to dinner.

And called you honey, of all things.

And when he finally got home you wait for him, just like he asked you to: on your stomach, on the bed, busying yourself with whatever, he doesn't care.

"Hands and knees," he orders and when you're not fast enough he pulls you up himself with his hands gripping your hips.

The mattress dips down, a sharp pain runs through your body and straight into your core when he smacks your bare ass just for good measure.

Dave kneads you, your thighs and ass, groaning at the softness of you and at how much of you there is. So much that it spills through his fingers.

"Had me acting like some pathetic asshole today," he growls and yanks your joke of a lace panty to the side. "Jerked off like a stupid teenager. You fucking tease."

Another smack and you yelp and clench around nothing.

"Don't worry, I got you," he says to your pussy and leans closer. Sniffing her. Gently blowing his warm breath over her and she responds with another clench. "Daddy got you," he murmurs so softly that you almost get jealous about how he speaks to your cunt.

He licks his lips, his tongue slowly running over the corner of his mouth before he spreads you open. Admiring you. Admiring his favorite crevices. Admiring his personal playground, his favorite holes.

He'll eat you out until you can't even kneel anymore. He was starving but he'll feast now.

Dave York masterlist

You married Reed Richards knowing he was a busy man. He was the worlds smartest man, one of the earth's protectors, meaning that a lot people counted on him. And he was also a father to a child from his previous marriage.

You learned to live with all his responsabilities. You accepted the last minute cancelations because something came up, the nights where you went to bed alone because he was in the lab or when he was busy with Franklin and couldn't spent time with you.

But lately it had become unbearable. Reed spent almost every hour of the day in his lab, solving calculations for his newest inovation or just working with the Fantastic Four to keep the city safe.

Every morning you woke up to Reed's cold and empty side of the bed. You had breakfast–and most meals– by yourself, watching something on TV so that the silence wouldn't drive you insane. You tried to get Reed to spend time with you, going to his lab to talk to him, bringing him food, and everytime all you got was a 'Hey, sweetheart' and then a short peck on the lips.

Your sex life had also taken a punch. Even going into his lab wearing the most revealing thing you owed wasn't enough to get him to come to bed with you. You hadn't had sex in almost two months now because most of the time, by the time he came to bed you had already cried yourself to sleep or he was too tired to do anything.

What also didn't help your feelings was that he worked alongside his ex wife. You weren't a jealous person but Sue Storm was... Well, she was Sue Storm–beautiful, tall, blonde, brilliant and she had superpowers for god's sake. How could you not feel jealous when she was spending more time with your husband than you?

But today it was going to be different, at least that what you told yourself. It was a friday night and during the entire week you had been telling Reed you had made reservations in the new restaurant you wanted to try out. He didn't have to plan anything, all he had to do was be ready at 7PM because you had made reservations for 7:30.

By 6:30 you were ready. You had spent almost all afternoon getting ready. You had one of your everything showers where you exfoliated, shaved and moisturized every single part of your body. You styled your hair just the way Reed liked it. You sprayed on your favorite perfume and put on a short black dress that reached your mid-thigh. It hugged your waist and ass perfectly and it showed just the right amount of cleveage to still be considered elegant.

But didn't hear the shower running or saw Reed getting ready and it made your chest twist a little.

You went looking for him in the lab, heels cliking against the polished floor. He was standing in front of the board, scribbling down numbers and letters.

He didn't hear you come in until you spoke. "Reed, why aren't you getting ready? We have reservations in an hour and the place's twenty minutes away."

Reed didn't stop writing, he spoke with his back turned to you. "Just ten more minutes. I'm in the middle of something here."

You took a few steps closer, trying and failing not to let your voice shake when you spoke. "We don't have ten minutes. It's 6:30 and you haven't even showered yet. If you don't start getting ready right now we're not gonna make our reservation."

Your tone seemed to finally draw his attention from the board. His eyes softened as he saw you standing there, all dolled up and looking like a dream just for him. But then he sighed, eyes flickering to the board for a brief second and you knew his mind was still there.

"You look beautiful, sweartheart."

The compliment should've made you melt but instead you felt nothing. All you had asked was one night where it was just him and you and he couldn't even give you that.

He continued at your lack of answer. "But we've detected some anomalities, some energy fluctuations across dimensions. I really have to work on this. I'll make it up to another time. I promise."

You looked up at him with tearful eyes. "But you promised we'd go today." You said quietly, voice breaking at the end. "Please, Reed. Just go get ready. We haven't spent time together in so long. You don't even touch me anymore and I miss you."

He ran a hand through his face, guilt flashing behind his eyes. "Don't do this right now. This–" he gestured to the board behind him. "It can't wait. If I stop I'll lose all the progress I've made over the weeks."

"Don't do this right now? Then when?" You said bitterly. "I barely see you. You're always in here, or with the team or with Franklin. These past weeks even Sue has spent more time with you than me."

"You knew what my life was like before you married me. You knew what my job required and that I work with Sue."

You didn't expect him to say that. The words hit you harder than you wanted to admit. The hurt sunk into your chest, making your voice tremble as you spoke. "Yeah I knew. But I didn't know I'd have to beg for you to care about me or how I feel."

"Of course I care. You're my wife."

"Then why don't you act like you're my husband?" You retored, lip trembling as you tried not to cry and ruin your make up. "All I'm asking is one date night. I spent hours getting ready and I'm sure we can still make our reservation if you start getting ready now."

He hesitated and for a second you thought he was actually going to agree. He grabbed your hands, thumbs caressing your wrists in an attempt to comfort you. " Listen. We can have dinner any other day. I'll make the–"

You shook your head, a shaky breath escaping you. A part of you wanted to yell at him for being so indifferent, to let him feel just how awful you felt but no words came out. You were just too tired of his attitude to argue and you knew that no matter what you told him, you wouldn't get him to go out with you tonight. "Just forget it. I'm not even hungry anymore."

You turned away before he could say anything else, your heels clicking too loudly against the floor as you left the lab.

He cursed under his breath and catched up to you, grabbing your hand to stop you. "Wait. Where are you going?"

You looked down at your joined hands and then at him. "I don't know but I can't be here right now."

You ended up taking a taxi to a hidden dive bar downtown. You just needed a place where you wouldn't be recognised as Reed Richards' second wife.

You were sitting on a stool, nursing a rum and coke while some 80's tune played in the backround when the bell above the door dinged. You didn't think anything of it at first, until from the corner of your eye you caught a sight of the man entering.

In the dark dim lights, he looked just like your husband. It has to be him, you thought to yourself and for a second your heart filled with hope. Had he finally realised how wrong he was and had somehow found out where you were and came looking for you?

You turned your head to fully look at the man, eyes and smile lighting up.

That was until he spoke. "Is this seat taken?" He asked, his voice was rougher than your husband's and he had a deep southern drawl.

As much as you wanted him to be your husband it wasn't. He was broader, shoulders and arms straining against the flannel he wore. His hair had more greys and his beard was longer than Reed's.

"Uh- N-no, no." You stuttered out, embarrased because you knew you had been caught staring. "I just– I thought you were someone else."

The man's eyes roamed over your body for a second, stopping when he noticed the wedding band on your finger. "Rough night?"

"Rough month." You corrected him.

He gave you one last look before waving the bartender. "Two whiskies. Neat."

"You don't have to buy me a drink."

"Didn't say I did." He answered, sliding the glass towards you. "You just look like you need something stronger than that coke you had."

"Thanks..." You trailed off, prompting him to introduce himself.

"I'm Joel. Joel Miller." He said, streching his hand in your direction.

You took his hand, giving him your name shaking his hand. His hands were rough, calloused from what you guess were years and years of manual labor. You pulled yours back before you let your mind wander to how they felt against your soft skin.

"So," he started, clearly wanting to spark up conversation with you. "Who did you thought I was?"

You sighed, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat at the thought of your husband. "My husband. You two look like alike."

"And what did he do?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I doubt you'd be in this shit-hole if things were okay at home."

"Oh, I don't want to dump all of this on you. You'll think i'm pathetic." You said, fingers tracing the rim of your glass before you took a sip. The alcohol burned your throat but it was just what you needed.

"I won't think you're pathetic. Promise."

You gave him a hesitating look, you weren't one to open up easily, but he was just a man at a bar, what harm could it do? "My husband's a scientist, smart as hell but the type who forgets everything else exists when he's working. We were supposed to go on a date tonight. I made reservations and spent hours getting ready but in the end he just said he had to work."

"Sounds like he ain't so smart after all, darlin'."

"You don't know him." You answered, trying to ignore the way the little nick name made your chest warm. "Or me for that matter."

"Ain't gotta know him to know i'm right. You're here while looking like that..." His eyes roamed over your body once more, lingering on your legs before going back up. "... If you were mine there's no way you're leaving the house without me because I know there'd be thousands of other men ready to sweep you off your feet."

Your breath caught at that. As a married woman, the stare of another man or his attempt to flirt should've made you sick. But right now it had the opposite effect. It had been so long since you felt wanted and desired.

You let out a short laugh. "Like you're trying to do with me right now?"

"Maybe." He said, shurgging lightly. "You can't exactly blame a man for trying, can you?"

Joel’s words hung in the air between you, heavy and teasing all at once. The corners of your lips curved slightly, even though part of you knew you shouldn’t be smiling.

“I guess not,” you said softly, eyes flickering down to your drink before meeting his again.

The conversation drifted after that. You talked about nothing—music, the weather, how terrible the bar’s neon sign flickered—but it felt easy, light in a way you hadn’t felt in so long.

Mid-conversation, Joel's eyes strayed towards the pool table. The group of strangers that were playing there had just left. "You play?"

"Oh you don't wanna play pool with me, I suck."

"I'll teach ya." He stood up, extanding his hand towards you.

Against your better judgment, you took his hand and let him lead you to the pool table. The balls were scattered across the felt, so Joel leaned down to gather them, arranging them neatly inside the triangle rack.

He grabbed two cue sticks, handing you one. "Ladies first."

You tried to mimic the posture you saw other people doing but it felt awkard. You positioned the stick between your thumb and index finger and hit the cue ball, but it barely moved a few inches before coming to a stop.

Joel laughed. "You're holding it wrong."

He set his own cue aside and stepped closer to you, the smell of his cologne and the hint of whiskey in his breath reaching you and making your head spin. "Can I?" He asked, hand hovering over yours but not touching yet.

Your breath caught in your throat and you only managed to nod.

He moved behind you, chest brushing your back as he grabbed your hands and adjusted them to grab the cue. He placed your hand on your hip, steadying your stance. "There. Now try."

It was hard to focus with his warm breath so close to your neck. You exhaled, hoping it would help your racing heart a little, and hit the cue ball. This time, it cracked cleanly against the target and sent it rolling right into a pocket.

Your head turned towards him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Looks like you're a great teacher after all, Joel."

You expected him to move, but he didn't and you didn't make any effort to push him away. His eyes flickered down to your lips and the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours.

Joel didn't waste a second after that, his mouth finding yours the second he locked the bathroom door.

It was a small room with barely a sink, a toilet and a mirror but it was clean enough–not that you were paying attention to that. You'd never even considered doing it in a place where you could potentially get caught, but now the idea of someone else hearing or just knowing what you two were doing in there made you soak your panties even more.

The kiss was rough, Joel's teeth tugged at your bottom lip before he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. Your hands fumbled with the buttons of his flannel, undoing some of them to reveal his broad chest.

Joel's body kept you pressed between the wall and his body, making you feel the outline of his hard cock poking against your thigh.

When he broke the kiss, his mouth immediately went to your neck, kissing and licking the skin. You gasped, head thrown back to grant him more space. "Joel, you can't leave marks..."

He chuckled against your skin. "Don't worry, princess. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your man."

The reminder of Reed sent a wave of guilt through your body, but it was quickly forgotten when he slid one of his hands under your dress, touching you through your panties.

"Jesus Christ, you're soaked." He kept kissing lower, his stubble scraping against your breasts as his hand found that little nub, rubbing it in small circles. "All this from some talking and kissing? She's truly been neglected, huh?"

"Fuck, Joel..." Your voice trembled, small whimpers leaving your lips when he started moving his finger faster.

"I know. I know, baby." He cooed, fingers pulling your panties to the side. He spread your wetness across your folds before slowly dipping two fingers into your warm waiting hole.

He almost moaned when he felt how tight you were around his fingers. His other hand went up to your chest, squeezing and kneading the flesh of your breast.

"You're squeezing me so tight, baby." Your nails dug into his biceps, hoping to relive some of the pressure building in your body.

"Don't know how i'm gonna make myself fit into your little hole." Joel's finger scissored you open, but it wasn't enough.

"Please, Joel. I need more." Your hands went to his belt, fumbling with the leather while you tried to take the end out of the loop but Joel stopped you, wrapping his fingers around both of your wrists.

"Nuh uh, baby." He held your hands in place, fingers picking up a faster pace as he pumped them in and out of your pussy. "Gotta open you up or else i'll tear this lil' pussy in half."

"No, no, no." You shook your head, grinding down on his finger. "I can take it. Please, Joel. Need your cock."

You had no idea what you were doing to him. It had been so long since Joel had a beautiful woman begging and crying for his cock.

He pulled out his fingers, smacking your clit before spinning you around so that your back was to him. "Don't say I didn't warn you, you desperate little slut."

You heard the sound of his belt opening and him pushing his pants down just enough to free his cock. You looked over your shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of him. He was long, a good seven inches and so thick.

It wasn't like Reed had a small dick–hell, he could strech his to whatever size you wanted– but you hadn't had anything in you in so long that just thinking of how deep he was going to be made your head spin.

"What? Not so confident now, huh?"

"It's so big." You breathed out, unable to tear your eyes off his massive shaft.

He chuckled and his hands reached for the hem of your dress, lifting up your dress until it was at your waist. He pulled down your panties and you kicked them off, he bent down to pick them up and stuff them into his back pocket.

"Hold onto the sink, alright? Hold on real tight, baby." He wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before pressing the fat red tip against your entrance.

He slowly pushed in, making you squeeze your eyes shut. "Holy shit, Joel!"

He was barely halfway in and you already felt so full– too full. "I- I can't, Joel. Is too much, please." You whimpered, a few tears falling down your face.

His hands held you in place when you tried to jerk away from him. "Don't you dare. You asked for this now you're gonna take it."

The strech stinged, making a broken sob leave your lips once he finally sank all the way in. Your knees wobbled and you were sure you would have dropped to the floor if he wasn't holding you.

"Joel... It's so big" You whimpered again, your voice small and pathetic. However, your voice didn't seem to match your words, your pussy clenching around him everytime he hit your cervix with slow but hard thrusts.

"Feel how deep I am, baby?" He panted against your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe as he pressed one of his hands against your lower belly where you could see the outline of his cock. "You're gonna feel me for days. Everytime you kiss your husband you'll think of me, and remember who fucked you good."

Joel dragged his hips back before slamming foward again with a fast powerful thrust. He didn't give you much more time to adjust as he started fucking into you so fast and hard that the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in the bedroom along the wet sounds of your pussy.

"Tell me baby. Who fucks you better, me or him?"

You could only whimper in response, nails scraping the sink. He groaned in frustation, delivering one hard smack against your ass, making it jiggle. "Answer me."

Your face heat up with guilt and shame. You bit your lip, unwilling to say anything but he just slapped your ass again, harder this time. "You. You're so much better than him."

"Good girl." He rasped out. He squeezed your tits, tugging them to make your back arch. He wanted you to look at yourself in the mirror. To see how much of a mess you were.

When you tried to look away, embarrasment flooding your body, he took your chin in his hand, forcing you to keep your eyes focused on the mirror.

Your eyes were full of tears, mascara running down your face. Your tits bounced everytime Joel slammed his cock in and out of you. "Look how pretty you look. The most perfect little cockslut. Makes me wish your husband was here too, so that he could see how his wife looks when a real man fucks her."

Your pussy clenched around him, his words dragging closer and closer to the edge. Joel played with your clit, thumb rubbing the little nub in fast circles.

"Joel, I'm gonna–" You whined, your orgasm making your eyes roll back. Joel fucked you through it, grinding his hips against yours until your body gave out.

Joel's hands were the only thing that kept you standing. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks so that he could watch his cock slide in and out of you.

He started fucking into you harder, showing little care for your comfort, every thruts making you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying from the overstimulation. "I- I can't. Too much." You whispered, unable to form a full sentence.

"Oh you poor thing." He cooed, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. After a few minutes, Joel's thruts turned sloppy. "Gonna cum, baby. Where you want it?"

Your pussy clenched around him. As much as you wanted him to cum inside, you couldn't risk getting knocked up by him. It was already bad enough that you were cheating on Reed. "Anywhere. Just don't cum inside."

Joel pulled out and grabbed you by the back of your neck, pushing you down until you were on your knees in front of him. He shoved his dick past your lips, pumping his dick in and out of your mouth furiously. You gagged around him, mouth struggling to adjust to the intrusion.

He burried himself to the hilt, your nose pressed to his pelvis as he emptied himself down your throat. You looked up, watching the way his face was scrunched up with pleasure, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You tried your best to swallow all of his warm, salty cum but it was so much that some of it spilled from the sides of your mouth. He rode out his orgasm with shallow strokes and when he finally pulled out he swiped the tip of his limp cock across the corners of your mouth and chin to gather some of his spend.

You parted your lips this time, taking his tip into your mouth and giving it small licks until he was clean again.

Joel helped you stand up again and took your face into his hand, caressing it gently with his thumbs. "You ok?"

You nodded. "Yeah, that was... Amazing."

He kissed your lips one last time before bending down to pick up his pants. He straightened his shirt, tucking it into his pants again and tried to fix his hair a little. "I should leave you to fix yourself. You need a ride home?"

You shook your head. "No, I'll just take a taxi. Don't need anyone seeing me in your car."

"Makes sense."

He turned around to leave but before he could open the door your voice stopped him. "Wait. Where are my panties?"

Joel just gave you a smirk, shaking his head. "I'm keeping those. To keep me company."

You chuckled in disbelief but didn't say anything about else. As Joel finally left the bathroom, leaving to your devices, feelings of guilt and shame flooding through you again as you started to come down from your high and the adrenaline of sneaking around.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and winced at how messy you looked. What the hell had you done and how were you going to make yourself look presentable so that Reed wouldn't notice you got fucked by a stranger?

Thankfully by the time you got home Reed wasn't waiting for you. You checked around the place and noticed that Reed was still in his lab. But he wasn't working. You could hear Ben's muffled voice, he sounded like he was scolding Reed.

You didn't make yourself known and instead just rushed to the shower so you could get joel's scent off your body and the taste of his cum from your mouth.

You turned on the hot water and scrubbed your body over and over again until it stung as if you could somehow erase Joel's touch, the way his breath felt against your neck and how he kissed you.

You pretended to sleep when Reed finally came to bed but that night you barely got two hours of sleep. Your mind was a mess. You had cheated on your husband and that was something you could never take back. He'd be crushed if he found out.

You woke up and to no one's surprise Reed wasn't next to you. You hated that it made you feel a little less guilty about cheating.

You sliped on your robe and padded towards the kitchen, expecting the usual silence and loneliness but the sight you were met with made you froze.

The table was set and the kitchen smelled like pancakes and fresh raspberries. Reed was actually cooking for you, not asking Herbie to do it.

There was a bouquet of peonies set in the middle of the table. Your favorite.

Your stomach twisted as Reed noticed your presence and smiled at you. "Good morning. I didn't want to wake you."

His voice was warm and hopeful. He stepped closer, taking your silence as you being cautious and still hurt by last night.

"I know I've been awful lately." He said shyly. "Ben finally got through me last night and made me realise i was taking you for granted. I want to show you that I care. That you're still the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Your throat tightened. "Reed..." You managed to say, but it came out weak, your voice cracking.

"You don't have to say anything." He brushed a strand of hair out of your face before kissing your forehead. "Just have breakfast with me."

"Okay." You whispered.

You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve him.

He smiled at you, leaning down to press his lips against yours before leading you to the table and pulling out a chair for you.

He served you breakfast just the way you liked it. Coffee with a splash of cream but no sugar. Pancakes with maple syrup and butter and your raspberries in a seperate bowl because you didn't like them touching the warm food.

He sat down beside you, his thigh brushing under yours the table, seeking your touch. "So, where did you go last night?" He asked lightly.

To a bar.

Where I got fucked by a stranger.

"Oh, I just went to Nicole's. I needed some girl time."

He just nodded, guilt flickering across his face. "I was an idiot last time. I'm really sorry. I swear i'm gonna do better."

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Your heart twisted painfully but you didn't move your hand away from his.

"I love you." He said quietly.

Your lips parted and for a few seconds no words came out. "I love you too."

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