Tuesday, Jake was a sexual madman—he couldn’t get enough of my ass. We flipped the positions around this time, and he plowed into my colon, missionary style, legs up, wide open, going balls deep inside me. Missionary anal may be my new obsession. There’s this nasty thrill kissing Jake, tongues all sloppy, while his cock’s sliding in and out of my tight asshole—Thinking back on it makes my pussy buzz in the best of ways. I can’t stop replaying how his face twisted up—eyes slammed shut, mouth open, not even breathing—when he unloaded in me. His balls were the only thing moving, pumping jizz deep into my guts. I didn’t cum right then, but I was close—his dick twitching like it was having a seizure in my ass, jerking around, teasing me right to the edge but not quite. We kept making out after, his cock still buried in me, and he’s whispering sweet stuff to me—how much I mean to him, how he needs me. I shouldn’t love hearing that as much as I do, but it’s like a drug for me, and it drives me on even harder. It left me horny as hell, I slid his dick out and told him to watch me. He wanted to finger me but said no—I needed his eyes on me, not his hands. I shoved a finger into my slick, cum-dripping asshole and went to town on my clit with the other hand. Thinking about Jake, telling me he loves me, made me think of my husband sitting at home, wondering what I’m doing right now, and—bam, two minutes later, I’m exploding. Full-on, no-control orgasm—my body’s shaking, I’m moaning things a married woman shouldn't be saying, face all scrunched up, muscles locking. For 30 seconds, I’m just gone, riding this insane wave, and it’s like my body’s this perfect little slut machine built for cock and turning Jake’s amazing dick and my husband’s humiliation into pure bliss. I can’t get enough.