I'm home this week, Tuesday through tonight. Tomorrow mornin..

I'm home this week, Tuesday through tonight. Tomorrow morning can't get here fast enough. I will head to Shane's and spend the next four days with him. Honestly, I'm just sharing the same space as my husband, Scott. My relationship with Shane has become so strong that Scott is now just a guy with a marriage certificate bearing my name. He's my part-time roommate, moping around like a kicked puppy because I've friend-zoned him so hard he's practically invisible. He seems to feel that I'm not home enough. "Scott," I said, "I belong to Shane now." Loving the way that sounded. It made me wet saying it. It's like dropping a bomb on his ego, and yet I had to point out how his dick was like a tent pole in his pants. I do love the way saying things like that rolls off my tongue. It is way more effective than a kick in the balls. It fascinates me that my husband's dick gets hard when I explain I want another man more than I do him. I like it, though. I liked it so much that I almost came a little after seeing it. I was somewhat shocked, it hit me like that. I wish I would have cum. I am curious as to what an orgasm like that would feel like. I'm kind of glad I didn't, though; it would have given Scott an actual physical, sexual purpose in my life. He needs to remain my mental turn-on, whether he likes it or not.

Anyway, Shane's my man now, and as you know, he's also Scott's boss. I often pinch myself at how perfect that situation is. I do spend more time with Shane than I do with Scott now, and I'm absolutely thrilled about that. Now that Shane has me, he's made it crystal clear he's not sharing me, and I'm all in. Scott is all out. He doesn't get to see me, his wife, naked anymore. Not a peek, not a glimpse. It feels wrong to let him, like I'm betraying Shane. I don't fuck Scott, don't want to, so what's the point of him seeing me undressed? I've told him straight up: knock before you come into my bedroom. My body's Shane's, and that leaves Scott with zero privileges. Last week, when Scott complained that I was spending all my time with Shane, I had to smile because it reminded me of something Shane had said. So, I told him what Shane said while I was on my knees, his thick cock sliding down my throat, my eyes locked on his, begging him to see how much I craved his cum. "You're my part-time wife now," he said, "and Scott's your part-time roommate." I nearly came right there, his dick halfway to my stomach, his words letting me know he considers me his.

Shane made me admit out loud, slipping his dick out of my lips and telling him he's my number one man. He made me say it before he'd let me swallow his load, and when I did, and he finally fed me his cum, it wasn't enough, and I realized it would never be enough. I like the thought of that. A few hours later, he got a phone call and said he couldn't talk long because he was with his girlfriend. Hearing him say that made my pussy so wet it was practically a slip-n-slide. I was on his couch, yanked my shorts down, opened my legs for him, and said, "Your girlfriend needs her boyfriend to pump a load in her guts." He didn't hesitate—he pushed my legs behind my head and used my pussy as a cum dump. His cock was relentless, slipping in and out, rearranging my insides, the head of it bulging my belly with every thrust. When he leaned down and kissed me like I was the only woman alive, I lost it. The orgasm hit me like a freight train, my girl jizz soaking his dick and balls. He didn't miss a beat, flooding my hole with his cum, leaving me sloppy, satisfied, and owned. Then we cleaned up, hit Twin Peaks for wings, and I caught our reflection in the mirror. We looked fucking perfect together. He's half my age, but he's attractive, and I'm obsessed with how well we fit together.

Sitting here, I realize that Scott can't compete with that. He shouldn't even try. I don't want him to. I love the way we all fit together. While I'm out living my best life with Shane, Scott's at home, probably jerking his sad shame boner, head bowed in defeat. Every time he sees Shane at work, he knows his boss is the one who owns his wife. That's got to burn, and I love that it does. I love Scott. He's my husband, and that means something. But part of that love is Shane taking me from him, and I'm hooked on the dark thrill I get by loving Shane more. It's like a drug, watching Scott shrink under the weight of all of it. I'm not slowing things down because I can't, not for Scott, not for anyone. Shane's my man, Scott's my sometimes roommate, and that's the storyline I want to keep living. I know my pussy thanks me for it.