Tasting the Forbidden - A Mayhem Erotica Anthology (5 page)

She briefly thought it was odd that he walked around with a stash of condoms in his pants, but she figured it was probably normal for a man like him. Her stomach twisted with jealousy—no matter how absurd or unwarranted it was. She did not want to think about him being that way with anyone but her.

She was sick in the head.

She watched in awe as he slid the condom over his engorged cock. The sight of it made her insides flutter and her heart leap in her chest. If such a thing was possible, it was beautiful. Perfect in form, length, and girth. She’d swear it was something that could inspire sculptures and paintings. It was that impressive.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned as he eased inside of her. The palms of his hands were planted above her head and the strength of his arms caught her eyes.

She was full . . . so full. He was much bigger than Alex, and thicker. It was amazing the way he stretched and filled her, and she took a deep breath as he began to move.

The man definitely knew how to use his hips, and she could feel him all over her. “God, you can’t be real,” she uttered out loud. She could hardly believe it was happening to her.

“I’m for real, baby. Can’t you feel how real I am?”

He rotated his hips, and she felt her eyes roll into the back of her head.
Fuck yes,
she could feel him. She’d never been more certain of anything in her life. She thought briefly that she'd been missing out if that was the way it felt to be fucked. She surely had never had her body controlled that way before, and she was having a hard time processing what was going on. She felt lightheaded, like she could float right out of her skin. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had such an intense orgasm as her body shattered beneath him. It sure hadn’t been at her own hand, and definitely not with Alex.

“I have something I want to try,” he said. “Something I’ve imagined since the moment I saw you bent over in those shorts.”

She was still shaking when he lifted her by the waist and stood her at the counter.

“Turn around, lean over the tile, and spread your legs.”

Her eyes closed briefly as flashes of that very position passed behind her lids. How many times had she dreamed of him fucking her from behind?

She happily obliged and hissed when the cold tile met her sensitive nipples. They were tight and hard as stone, and the pain just added to the pleasure. She wondered briefly when she’d become so reckless, but she knew the answer, if she was willing to admit it to herself. It was the moment Tyson walked into her house and woke up her long-dormant hormones.

He was different from Alex in almost every way. Tall and built, where Alex was just average and slight. Tyson was rugged and a bit wild in appearance with his visible tattoos and a certain swagger when he moved. Alex was clean cut and dignified, always all business even on the weekends. He was handsome, but in a way she no longer found attractive. He’d changed, she thought. Somewhere, somehow, work had become part of his personality, and it was then she realized they'd both changed.

She was no longer satisfied with the life she was leading. Being a housewife wasn’t enough any longer. Their quest for a family had failed time and again, and she’d given up hope that it would ever happen. Somehow, it had become the one thing they couldn’t agree on, and the fact that they hadn’t been intimate told her that he’d changed his mind about having a family at all. She was nothing but a maid and housemate to him, and she realized his avoidance went much deeper than she’d thought.

“Do you want me to stop?”

His voice boomed through the room, breaking her out of all thoughts pertaining to Alex. His hands on her backside reminded her that Tyson was there and he wanted her. Really wanted her. He’d already brought her to orgasm, and she wasn’t ashamed of wanting more. She wanted his strong hands . . . she wanted him to fuck her. Hard.

“Never.” She was breathless and greedy. She could hear the pleading in her own voice; God only knew how she sounded to him.

He chuckled. “That’s my girl.” He gave her ass a hard smack, startling her.

“Fuck, Tyson. Do it again!”

He did. Again and again. “You like that don’t you, Selena? You’re ready for me to take you hard, aren’t you?”

She could do nothing but moan.

Reaching between her legs, he felt her and groaned. “Fuck yeah, you like it like that. You’re so wet. Damn.”

He stroked her a few more times before aligning himself with her and thrusting his hips forcefully. His hands were planted next to hers and she moved them so she could thread their fingers together. She liked the way it felt to have his rough hands in hers. When he squeezed her tightly and then slammed against her pussy forcefully, she was glad to have his strength holding her down.

Her eyes rolled and her tongue swelled in her mouth. She was overwhelmed with the way he felt inside of her. Her body responded like it’d known him forever. The thought should’ve troubled her, but instead, she felt empowered by it.

“Oh, God! Harder!” she cried.

He let out a sound closely resembling a roar as he slammed into her over and over again rapidly. Her chest ached from the pressure, but it was a delicious burn—the kind that only came from unbidden passion and lust.

The sounds that came out of him were as foreign to her as the way her body felt as he drove her to the brink over and over again. She was worn out, but nowhere near being done with him. She was afraid she’d never be able to give him up. She was addicted.

She wanted to continue begging for more, but the words were lodged in her throat. Lustful sounds continued to fall from her lips, but she was incoherent. It was nonsense and gibberish.

Staring out the kitchen window as he drove into her, she felt a zing of dirty satisfaction that, at any moment, one of her nosey neighbors could walk by and see what was going on inside her house. Her thoughts were scandalous and ridiculous, but just the possibility of being caught excited her to the point of ecstasy.

Abruptly, his movements slowed and he leaned forward, his chest against her back, and his lips at her ear.

“You didn’t answer my question before. What would your hubby think if he caught you right now, Selena?”

She whined. Alex was the last thing she wanted to think about. She was so close, and she wanted him to stop talking and finish fucking her.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Don’t stop!”

His tongue dipped into the shell of her ear and he chuckled, low and dark. Grinding his hips, he let go of her hands and held her hips, bending his knees and thrusting into her again.

“You think he’d like watching me tear up his sweet wife’s pussy? Listen to her scream my name in his own kitchen?”

She let her head fall forward and pressed her cheek against the tile. “Yes, yes, harder. Make me scream!”

He obliged, slamming into her relentlessly, the loud slap of his hips against her backside reverberating throughout the room. She could feel the want in his hands, the pure uninhibited passion. She’d never been handled that way, so raw, so animalistic. He wanted to make her come, and hard, and he wasn't stopping until he got his way. She could hardly wrap her head around it. For the first time in a long time, she felt sexy and beautiful—desirable. Just the thought of a young, gorgeous man like Tyson wanting to be with her made her twist up inside.

She hated overthinking things, especially when she was in the midst of the best sex of her life, but she couldn’t help it. With each stroke of his cock, he stole another part of her, a piece that she wanted him to have. She wanted more of him, and often. It scared her. She wasn’t the type of woman to carry on a torrid affair with a repairman, but until the second he touched her, she hadn’t been the type of woman that had midday quickies either.

Tyson grabbed her leg and pulled it behind him, wrapping it around his hip. The new position caused her to wail out in pleasure as he hit a place inside her that had never been touched. He was a master, and she was his willing lover. The way he manipulated her body pleased her so . . . she was an emotional mess. She was out of breath and her legs were weak, but she just couldn’t get enough.

“You’re a bad girl, Mrs. Phillips. Slutty little housewife, waiting for me to come clear your pipes . . .”

The things he said were filthy, and they made her tingle. He was sex personified, a man in every way.

“Yes, I’m so bad,” she panted. “I need you to spank me again—harder.”

He reared back, and then the loud, stinging slap of his hand rang out into the room. Her ass burned and her body shuddered. What had she become? She was asking the man to strike her! She loved it, though, his rough palm against the sweet, tender flesh of her behind. She could only imagine what the pink imprint of his hand looked like against her smooth, pale skin. She couldn’t wait to examine it later while basking in the events of the afternoon. Hiding such evidence wouldn’t be difficult—Alex, no doubt, would come home and ignore her as always.

After a few more punishing slaps, he brushed his hand over the assaulted skin reverently before growling and pulling out of her. Turning her around and lifting her in his arms, he lowered his voice to a hushed, ragged whisper. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.”

She did as he asked, and when she looked up into his eyes, she felt faint. God, he was gorgeous. His eyes were so clear, and the light sheen of sweat covering his body made her heart pound. He reached between them, positioned himself at her center, grabbed hold of her ass with both hands, and thrusted inside of her again.

His strength amazed her as he lifted her effortlessly. She held on for dear life, unwilling to let go of him. His shoulders were so strong, rippling with muscles and slippery with sweat. The way he grunted with each pump inside of her left her breathless, and she was hanging on by a thin thread.

Tyson leaned in and kissed her hard, his tongue exploring her mouth with precision and finesse. It took her by surprise. They’d done things she hadn’t even done with her husband, and yet, he hadn’t kissed her once. She liked it very much, and God was he good at it. That, didn’t surprise her. One thing she knew was she would never forget him—or the things he did to her. Ever. She couldn't imagine ever feeling the things she did while she was with him, and she instantly felt awful for her husband.

There was just no comparison.

He kissed the side of her neck, working his way toward her ear. “Did you plan this? You and your old man hire workers to come in and fuck you so he can watch?”

She gasped, and he chuckled again. “Oh, so you had no idea that he was standing there watching me fuck you? Is this a coincidence?”

He turned again and sat her down on the tile counter in the center. It was then, as she looked over his shoulder, that she spotted Alex standing behind the door, cock out and in his hand, watching them.

At first, she was mortified. And scared. The look in his eyes was confusing, and she was too shocked to process just what was going on. It didn’t help that Tyson had found his way between her legs again, fondling her soft folds, while his lips working their way up her thighs.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the other side of the room even though Tyson was making it awfully hard, distracting as his talented tongue was. She felt her eyes fill with tears, so ashamed of herself, and so sorry for hurting her husband.

Alex could see that his wife was confused. He hadn’t wanted her to see him standing there. When he walked into the house and heard the unmistakable sounds of sex in his kitchen, instead of being angry—as he should have been—he was turned on. His cock pushed at his slacks, and his lower belly burned with lust.

Selena had always been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, with a body made for sin and a heart of gold. He’d felt them drifting apart, and he hated to admit that he’d been glad. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to her—
fuck,
he’d need his head checked if that were the case. No, it was the disappointment and failure he felt that kept him from fucking his wife.

They’d been trying to have a baby for more than three years, and after dozens of doctors and hearing the same thing again and again, his ego was crushed and his manhood was shattered.

A low sperm count shouldn’t have put him into such a depression, but a family was the one thing his wife asked of him, and he couldn’t provide it. He felt like shit, like a worthless piece of shit.

He couldn’t deny a piece of him was torn. What kind of man allows another man to use his wife the way the plumber was using his? A man on the verge of losing everything, he thought. How could he refuse his wife what she clearly needed? She was a beautiful and sensuous woman, and he had neglected her for some time.

Hearing her pleas and the clear pleasure the plumber was giving to her snapped his heart in two. She deserved to be treated like the loving woman she was. She was very passionate—always had been. A vixen in the bedroom with little to no inhibitions whatsoever. It was absolutely one of the many reasons he’d fallen in love with her. She captivated him completely.

The man was clearly giving her what he couldn’t, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it. Watching his wife’s face as she came was something he lived for, and the plumber was doing a damn good job of giving her what she needed.