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I know it’s her. Sometimes you can just tell when the doorbell rings, can’t you? Stephen knows it’s her, too, which is why he doesn’t answer the door. He likes me to do it. Suffer the humiliation of me letting her in. Inviting her in.
I answer the door. It is her.
‘Hi, Miss Grace!’
My son was right behind me. With my head swimming, I didn’t even know he was there. He beams up at the woman at the door, his teacher, and she steps in and bends down to him.
‘Hi Seb! How are you buddy? Did you have fun at school today?’
He nods the affirmative and scampers upstairs to his room. I shut the door behind her and we stand together, alone in the hall for a moment.
‘Hi, Miss Grace.’ I address her the same way my son does, but for different reasons.
‘Hi Isobel,’ her smile is friendly, not in the least bit sadistic. ‘Is Stephen in his office?’
I tell her that she is, and without another word she slips into the room where my husband is waiting for her, and closes the door. I ruminate for a few seconds on whether I would still be stood here, in this exact spot, with the same set of circumstances unfolding, had we just taken my son to another school. Then I think back zonguldak escort to how long ago it was that I accepted Stephen cheating on me, and I realise the answer is probably yes.
I walk into the kitchen and try to busy myself with making dinner. I’m chopping vegetables, meat, throwing everything in the stew. But my mind can’t focus on the task at hand. So I do something I’m not supposed to. I slip into the pantry which backs onto Stephen’s office, and listen.
It’s sad, really. The lowest quality porno would provide more titillation than this. Rhythmic thudding which, had I not known precisely what it was, could have been anything. A few muffled grunts from Stephen here, or a light mewl from Miss Grace there, or completely indecipherable words spoken. But it’s enough. My pussy is flooded, and my fingers are thrusting in and out with the sheer humiliation of my pathetic situation. I get close very quickly, and even edge for a few moments, but I don’t cum. Christ, I’d be in enough trouble if she even found out I was listening in.
The phone buzzes. Shit. Much like the doorbell, I know what that is too. I leave the pantry, fethiye escort and on my phone is the message I was expecting.
Stephen: We’re ready for you now.
I give it a few seconds, trying to will my face to be less flushed. I wash my hands and walk into the office, closing the door behind me, praying as I always do that Seb stays upstairs.
I stand in front of them. She’s completely naked and lounged across the sofa. His jeans are round his ankles, and he’s lazily stroking her tits. It always takes me aback how much bigger they are than mine. At the last moment before I turn away, I see something that wrenches my stomach. He draws her in for a long kiss.
The pain of the moment leaves me quickly, and I turn and begin to lick her boots. Unlike the rest of their strewn-about clothes, she’s put these down neatly, near the door. Ready for me. I consider if this is a deliberate move, and decide to err on the side of caution.
‘Thank you for leaving these out so neatly for me, Miss Grace.’
And deep down, I know that she’s not superior. There’s nothing that makes her any better than me. But none of that matters. alanya escort Those thoughts never see the light of day. Maybe once upon a time I could have said just how disgusting I find all this, but the opportunity passed a long time ago. Now I have to just wait for the self-hatred to wash over me, and use it as a pathetic tool to get myself off. If I’m allowed to.
‘That’s enough, Isobel,’ Miss Grace calls over to me as I begin working on the toe of the second boot. I stand up and look over to her. ‘I think your husband’s cock might need washing off before dinner.’
Without a word, I walk over to him and kneel down. I give a few tentative licks to his cock, still wet, still oozing cum, then take it in my mouth. The familiar taste of my husband’s cock is mingled with the all-too unfamiliar taste of another woman. I lick up the cum, and work on making sure the rest of it is pristine. He’s obviously fucked her in the ass, and somehow this hurts worse than anything else has yet.
I finish up, and look up at the both of them. They’re looking into each other’s eyes and smiling. It hurts.
Stephen looks down at me. ‘I think we’ll let Clara stay tonight Izzy, what do you think?’ Without giving me a chance to respond, not that I would have protested, he continues; ‘I suppose you’ll be okay sleeping on this sofa?’
They both get up and get dressed. Then they walk out of the room together, and leave me alone in his office to smell the scent of them and look at the sweat patches and cum stains on the sofa where I’ll be sleeping tonight.
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