Missing you

The soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated her face in the dimly lit bedroom, casting gentle shadows across the exposed curves of her body. She sat cross legged on the rumpled bed, the patterned duvet twisted beneath her, wearing nothing but a sleek black bra that barely contained her full breasts and sheer black stockings that cling to her toned legs like a second skin. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her focused expression as her fingers danced across the keyboard. The brick wall behind her and the potted plants nearby made the space feel intimate, almost domestic, except for the faint scent of another man’s cologne still lingering on her skin.

Subject: Missing you… but things have changed

Dear Timmy

I hope this email finds you well on your trip. A whole month away… it feels like forever already. The house is quiet without you, but don’t worry, I’ve been keeping busy. Your boss has been so thoughtful, checking in on me almost every day since you left. He insisted it was the least he could do after “volunteering” you for this big project. You know how persuasive he can be.

I need to tell you something. Something that’s been building for a while now. Remember how he started inviting us over for those late dinners after you joined the company? How his eyes would linger on me just a little too long? I thought it was nothing at first. Just harmless flirting from a powerful man who gets what he wants. But he’s been seducing me, slowly, deliberately. A lingering touch on my waist when you were out of the room. Compliments about how stunning I looked in that dress you bought me. Texts late at night when you were asleep, telling me all the things he’d do to me if I were his.

He wanted me from the moment he saw me at your welcome party and he’s a man who gets what he wants. He arranged this assignment for you, sent you halfway across the world, so he could finally have me all to himself.

Last night was the first time. God, I shouldn’t be telling you this in an email, but I can’t hold it in anymore. He came over after work, “to make sure I was okay.” One glass of wine led to another. His hands were on me before I could think straight, strong, confident, nothing like the hesitation we’ve fallen into lately. He peeled my clothes off right here on this bed, the same one we share. He told me how long he’d fantasized about fucking your wife. How tight and wet I was for him. How much better it felt than he imagined.

He had me every way he wanted. On my back with my legs wrapped around him. Bent over the edge of the bed while he gripped my hips. And then again this morning before he left for the office, slow and deep, like he was claiming me properly. He came inside me both times. Said he wasn’t going to use protection because he wants me to feel everything. He said that black men don’t wear protection when they are fucking another man’s wife, a white wife.

He’s going to have me every night while you’re gone. He made that very clear. Tonight he’s taking me out to dinner first, then back here. Or maybe to his place, I don’t know yet. I’ll wear something special for him. The black lace you like… or maybe nothing at all.

I still love you. This doesn’t change that. But he makes me feel desired in a way I haven’t in so long. Desired, used, and completely taken. I thought you should know the truth. Maybe it excites you as much as it does me? Or maybe you’ll come home early and stop it…

Either way, I’ll be thinking of you while he’s deep inside me.

Come back soon… or don’t.

All my love (and a little bit of his cum still dripping down my thigh),

Your wife 

Helen 

She hit send, leaned back against the pillows, and let out a slow, satisfied breath. Her fingers trailed down her body absentmindedly as she pictured his reaction thousands of miles away, reading her confession. The laptop screen faded to sleep mode, leaving her in the soft afternoon light, already anticipating tonight.