Harsh words and slammed doors marked the start of my day. A benign argument over something trivial escalated into a full-blown shouting match, the kind that makes you ask, “How the fuck did getting laundry folded turn into this?” I stalked to my car angrily, the ringing cry of “get out and stay out” lingering in my ears as I started the engine. With a few miles between my wife and me, I felt like I could finally breathe again.

After aimlessly driving for some time, I found myself parked at the gym. My mind was replaying the argument over and over. Was this truly the end with my wife? It certainly felt like it this time. Taking inventory of my disheveled appearance in the mirror, I debated just going to Dairy Queen and pigging my feelings away. “Fuck it,” I muttered before stomping across the parking lot into the building.

Venting my rage into the weights always dissipates the storm clouds that gather in my mind. A tap on my shoulder interrupted the litany of angry thoughts and music. I turned and nearly dropped the weight I was holding. Emily stood before me like a vision from the past—Emily, the one who got away. She stood up to my chest, raven locks cascading down her fit, toned back. Her pale skin was artfully covered in tattoos that drew attention to her best features. Finally, my gaze returned to her face, and my breath was stolen by the smile curling those cherry-red lips before I was completely transfixed by her steely grey eyes. Feeling like a fly that had stumbled into a black widow's lair, I stared numbly at the face that I had fantasized about for so long.

“Emily?” I stammered out.

Her mouth split into a grin that turned her pretty face absolutely gorgeous. She let out a giggle before jumping into my arms and pressing her toned body into mine.

“I knew you would recognize me!” she giggled with her arms still locked around me. Suddenly, I became aware of two things at once: the shabbiness of my clothes and how closely she was standing to me, the tips of her breasts pushing into my chest and her fingers tracing circles along my forearm. All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my face and my cock, reddening the former and stiffening the latter. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat and stepped away.

One of her eyebrows arched slightly, and an impish grin crossed her face knowingly.

“Nothing's changed, I see,” she tittered.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked warily. I watched her eyes flick down to my conspicuous bulge and back up to my face.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied, eyes dancing with mischief. “So anyway, what's new? How's you and what's-her-name?”

“We got married about a year ago, actually,” I replied cagily, because they had never gotten along. My wife had always been jealous of Emily and my friendship in the past.

“Oh,” she said, a devious gleam creeping into her eye. “I see. Well, anyway, I'm about to head in. Care to join?” She turned away from me, strutting down the stairs into the gym. My eyes were drawn to her almost against my will. Her workout clothes looked like they were painted onto her body, leaving little to the imagination. Resistance crumbled under the tantalizing sight of her hips gently swaying back and forth, so I followed.

The workout passed in a blur of gentle touches, her hand on my arms. My hands went to her hips when she asked me to spot her, lingering for a few seconds too long. Emily kept prying into my marriage, asking how my wife was, whether I was happy, and if we had sex often. I deflected as much as possible, but she was insistent, and once again, I found myself powerless underneath her unyielding gaze.

“There's something you aren't telling me,” she stated. “Come with me.” Emily grabbed my hand and led me out of the gym. She walked me to her car in the corner of the parking lot and gestured for me to climb inside.

“I'm not sure about this, Emily; we have a bit of a history,” I said to her.

“Oh, please, we aren't doing anything yet. Just talking,” she replied and got in the car.

Sighing to myself, I walked around the car and got in. My heart was hammering in my chest as she turned to face me. It was only now that I could fully appreciate the outfit she had changed into before we left the gym: a tiny tennis skirt that left her legs bare to the thigh, paired with a thin crop top that her breasts seemed to be intent on escaping from.

“Soooooooo?” she prompted. “What's really going on?”

The combination of arousal and emotional distress had taken its toll on my sound decision-making, so I began to spill it all to her, telling her about the fights, the late-night arguments, and the resentment that had built over time. I spilled all the malignant thoughts that had been plaguing my relationship. As I talked, Emily's expression changed, going from sympathy to one that looked almost hungry. Suddenly, she put a finger in front of my mouth, cutting me off mid-sentence.

“Stop talking; I know what you need,” she said while looking me directly in the eye. Something about the look in her eye made my cock twitch in my sweats.

“And what is it I need from you?” I replied, trying to keep the shakiness out of my voice.

“Just a hug, of course,” she murmured while clambering over the center console and onto my lap.

“Emily,” I began. She promptly hushed me and wrapped her arms around me, bringing her body forward to press into mine. I was suddenly conscious of two things at the same time: her perfect breasts were pressing into my face, and she was only wearing a skirt on my lap. Very conscious of my throbbing erection, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying desperately to wiggle away from her body. Emily laughed impishly and ground down a little, sliding slowly and deliberately up the full length of my cock and back down before rising on her thighs off of me. I looked down and was shocked to see that the grey fabric was soaking wet, glistening and slick with her wetness. I looked up at Emily; she was staring at me with that hunger in her eyes again, biting her lip gently.

“Whoops,” she said while maintaining eye contact. Moving almost with a mind of their own, my hands swept up the sides of her thighs, brushing the fabric of her skirt upwards to reveal that she was not wearing any panties. I looked down and saw that the insides of her thighs betrayed her wetness. Slowly, she reached a perfectly manicured hand down, grasped the waistband of my sweatpants, and pulled them down. My cock sprang into the air, throbbing and pulsating with the force of my arousal. Without breaking eye contact, Emily put her hands on my shoulders and slowly lowered herself down. She guided herself down expertly without using her hands. The tip of my cock pressed into one cool thigh briefly before slipping deliciously inside her. The first contact made us both shudder and moan together, each lost in our own world of pleasure but linked by the joining of our bodies.

Her pussy gripped my cock like a vise, squeezing it with its tight heat. Emily let out a low, feral moan as I stretched her; her nails dug into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood once I had filled her. She buried her face into my neck and started slowly and expertly working her hips, rolling them back and forth, her pussy clenching and unclenching on my cock while I sat with my mouth open in mute pleasure.

“Fuck, Emily. Slow down,” I panted, struggling to stop myself from flooding her already.

“Shut up,” she murmured. “Cum in me. I need it, I need it.” She repeated, *“I* *need* *it,”* in my ear as she increased her pace. With every repetition, she slammed her hips down faster onto me. I could not resist under her frenzied riding, my orgasm approaching like an oncoming train with its speed and force. I grabbed her hips, stopping her movement, and began thrusting as hard as I could. The first thrust brought my orgasm sprinting forth, its power eliciting moans from me as I began filling her with my cum. Grabbing her hips, I pulled her down with all my strength, needing to cum as deeply as possible into her. Emily renewed her frenzied grinding as I filled her, moaning out her pleasure as her own orgasm took her. Her pussy clenched around my cock, seeming to wring every drop of cum from me; so desperate was her need. Her arms stayed around my neck as she quivered in the aftershocks of her climax, her thighs gripping mine and shaking. She stayed on top of me for some time, my cock still inside her. We basked in the moment of intimacy and release together.

Soon after, we made our goodbyes. Emily promised to behave if she saw me again, claiming it was a one-time thing and that she could control herself. Driving home, I knew that wasn't the case; Emily always took what she wanted, and if she so decided, then I was hers. Same as it had always been.