Unlikeable Female Protagonist

Affairs || A(nal) || Oral || Your Best Friend’s Husband || 18+

She doesn’t like to choose.

The intimacy of her best friend’s wrist resting next to hers at the dinner table, up turned - beautiful silver veins exposed. She knows the knowledge of what she had done and would undoubtedly do again would cut them, artery blood red and deep. A dull brutal blade. A double betrayal. Your Best Friend. Your Husband.

And she wasn’t going to choose.

She wants both. Her appetite an unwieldy thing, feral and fur wild, crossing thresholds without being claimed or consumed. Amoral, she thought. Like the gods. She felt that too, a power, when she swallowed him deep the first time, a brief bright moment of being satiated, her knees already burned raw from the worn motel carpet, the closest private space, a chance meeting.

Her best friend’s husband grunts and grips her hair tight. Fuck he says. Oh, fuck fuck, please. Oh god. His legs shake and she has to hold his thighs still, so she doesn’t lose her rhythm. oh god! She thinks, yes may she is. Something immortal in her, this need to break and take feels ancient. Inevitable. His cock twitches against her tongue and pulses hot and wet. He tastes raw. She thinks and swallows. His breath ragged. Fuck Melissa. We... fuck. This. We can’t. She smiles and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and kisses him. She thinks he might like to taste his betrayal too, a slippery thing between them.

She doesn’t make him choose.

He can have his pick of her dark wet places. He fills her throat some days, a ten minute visit over a lunch break. Her red lipstick a stab on his boxer shorts. As the months tick by punctuated by more motels, he fucks her anyway which way he wants. Further and further from town, they venture, as his tastes diversify. Grey and in-between places that could be anywhere, but always near a motor way. The smell of petrol and tar. This degraded God she feels she might be. Fallen and yet, untouchable. Elevated.

Other times he fills her cunt, doesn’t ask if she’s on the pill, that ignorance enough to fuel her cruelty further. She rocks his seed inside herself, legs pulled up to her chest as he washes his face in the tiny chipped ensuites of their liaisons. It still slips out of her, while she drives home. Escaping the safety of her. Evidence. Wet between her legs it spreads to her thighs as her friend’s voice echoes through her car on speak phone, slightly out of breath having picked up the kids, done the shopping, he’s working late again, big project!

Mostly he takes her small tight hole or likes to fill it last. Her winking ass that swallows him tighter and deeper. Take it. Take it take it fuck. FUCK look at you. And she does look at herself. In the dusty mirrors that reflect the green bedspreads and greying sheets. Her skin blotchy and flushed from where he’s pulled at her, pawing and needy. Her mouth open and wet with his spit and hers. They fuck hard and unapologetically now.

No talk of not doing it, no talk of regret. Just fucking. He pushes in hard and makes her gape, pulling her cheeks apart to watch as he pulls out, dripping. Fucking look at you. Jesus. He licks her cunt then. From the back, she shudders and rides it out. Letting him drip, eel like and silver down her thighs.

He likes my ass. She giggles to her best friend. Her wine glass beading in the summer evening. The pub loud and full of red faced banter and girls with winged eyeliner. And eating it from the back. Honestly Jo. I haven’t come like this. He can’t get enough. Her best friend shrieks and hold her hands tight. Doesn’t it hurt babe? God! I could never.... He sounds like a fucking devil you lucky bitch, oh… Christ my phone… hang on its Michael… the kids...

She listens to her lover’s voice, a small tinny sound through her friend’s phone. The domestic routine a dull humdrum back story. He never mentions her. But she knows he is changing. Their slippery selves overlapping. Her best friend says her husband fucks her like he did when they were young. Fast and furious honestly Melissa, I don’t know what’s got into him. She knows, texting from a work trip abroad. He’s had no access to her cunt for two weeks. He’s gagging for his fix. Enjoy it darling. Just wrap it up! You don’t want any more kids, right? scary face emoji

No. she doesn’t want to choose.

The look on his face as her eyes lock with his, his cum splashing across her tits. Like he might go under at any minute and be grateful for it. The look on her face as she shared each moment, Jo I think I might have found the one… her friend blushed with pleasure for her. Both desired and held. The transgression all the sweeter, more bitter and raw.

She savours it still. Letting it pool under her tongue, his wide eyes, her warm hands. Tongues the spaces between her teeth and finds moments there too. His fingers slick, with her cum. Her best friend’s voice soft with reassurance. Dazzled by it. Her deception simmers, slow, deep. It will all fall apart in your mouth. Her friend says the roast pork a pink delight between the three of them. A Sunday lunch.

She won’t choose. She will eat until she has had her fill, licked the bones clean, silver and slippery and swallowed whole.

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