Meeting His Mistress

Alexis catches the girl in her bathroom. Kristin. Petite, young, and already standing there in just her lace panties. The wife’s anger flares first. Then something else. Heat. The next move happens fast—one kiss, rough and open-mouthed, followed by a hand that slips inside those same panties. They stumble down the hall to the bedroom without breaking contact. Clothes peel off. Alexis’s dress hits the floor. Kristin’s bra ends up dangling from a lampshade. She nudges Alexis onto her back, spreads her thighs, and lowers her mouth. The first lick drags a raw sound from Alexis’s throat. Tongue flicks, then lingers. Alexis grabs Kristin’s hair, rides against her lips, and comes hard in a gasping rush, clit pulsing under relentless attention. Kristin wipes her mouth on the inside of Alexis’s thigh and crawls upward, offering her own slick cunt. Alexis returns the favor with the same hunger, fingers buried deep while her tongue works Kristin to a trembling peak, then another. They trade places, trade licks, lost in the wet pull of mouths and the ceaseless thrust of hands. Neither stops until the sheets are damp and both women lie spent, breathing hard. Alexis thinks there might be worse ways to meet her husband’s mistress.