After Hours: Her Secret, His Visceral Desire

Back in the present, her words had snapped him out of his trance. She was telling him the truth, but the truth was so much worse than he had imagined. He had always known she had been unfaithful in the past. But the image of her with her high school boyfriend, his arms around her, had hit him like a punch in the gut. He pushed her away, her words hanging in the air between them.

She stared at him, confusion and hurt in her eyes. "What is it? You don't like what I'm saying?" He shook his head, trying to find the words. "It's not that. It's just... seeing you with him. It brings back memories." He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. "Tell me what happened that night at the prom. Start from the beginning."

She hesitated, then began to speak in a soft, monotone voice: "We went to the bathroom. You know the rest." He nodded, his mind racing. He had been living with this woman for ten years, and the story she was telling him right now was foreign. She had led him on for months, telling him vague tales of past relationships and late-night secrets. But the truth was worse than he had ever imagined.

He stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair. "Why did you do it with him?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "He was your first love. You could have had him." She looked down at her hands, playing with a lock of hair. "I was young and stupid. I thought I could have both of you. But I was wrong." He shook his head, his heart aching. "Wrong? You took a second guy to the prom and let him fuck you in the bathroom while your man sat across the room. That's not stupid, that's betrayal." She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had always thought he could handle anything his wife threw at him. But right now, in the dim light of the backyard, with her confession hanging in the air and her body right in front of him, he felt completely exposed. He reached down and pulled her into his arms, his hands moving through her hair as he kissed her neck. "Tell me more," he whispered. "I want to hear every detail."

She hesitated, then began to speak in a soft, seductive voice: "I went to his dorm room after the dance. We made out for a while, then he took off his clothes. He was hard, and he wanted me to ride him. I did. He fucked me so good, baby. I've never felt anything like it." She reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers running over his jawline. "You were right, he was better than you. But you know what? I miss you. I miss my life with you." He pulled her closer, his hands moving over her waist and hips. She ground her thighs against his, and he felt his arousal spike again. This was the real thing. This was the woman who lived with him, who cooked his meals, who gave him children.