SecretLover88

Bent Over the Kitchen Counter

It started with wine. Just two glasses while he vented about his wife — how she hadn’t touched him in months, how he felt invisible. I shouldn’t have cared, but the way he looked at me that night? I knew exactly where it was going.

He didn’t ask. He just pressed me against the fridge and kissed me like he’d been starving.

I was wearing a dress. No bra. No panties. Maybe I planned it — maybe I wanted to be used.

Before I knew it, he had me bent over the kitchen counter, one hand gripping my hip, the other over my mouth so I wouldn’t moan too loud.

His wedding ring kept hitting the marble.

He didn’t take it off. Not even when he finished all over my back and whispered, “You’ll never know how much I needed that.”

I should feel guilty.

But I still fantasize about him every time I’m alone in that kitchen.