(from a work in progress)

Pete was going through a box which mostly contained my old college papers when he found an envelope that I had forgotten existed. Which is why when he opened it and tipped the contents out onto the floor I didn’t try to hide them or otherwise protect my husband from his find. I was so caught up in my own excavation, that it took me a moment to realize his mouth hung open as he held up a series of photos and began to flip through them.

“What’s gotten into you?” I asked, not looking up.

“Oh it’s nothing,” he said. “I was just looking at these photos of you and your ex-boyfriend.”

“What? Which one.”

“Which boyfriend? Apparently the one with the ten-inch cock.”

“What are you even talking about?” I asked. In lieu of a response, he tossed me a photo. I sighed as I picked it up and then shut my mouth because it was, in fact, a picture of me with my ex Robert. More specifically, it was a picture of me naked, kneeling on the ground, trying to fit his cock into my mouth. The day came back in a flash, and I realized the rest of the photos might make things complicated. We had been drunk and having fun when he pulled out my camera and started taking pictures of me as I undressed. I pretended to model for him, but pretty soon things got a little out of hand. At first, it was just me sucking his cock. And then it was him fucking me. And then it was him choking me as we fucked, tying me to the bed, shoving my panties into my mouth, and coming all over my pussy and ass. Like I said, it got a little out of hand.

“Oh,” was all I could say as I watched Pete’s mouth open wider as he flipped through each one.

“Jesus Sarah. You two weren’t kidding around.”

“We were in college,” I said, trying to grab them out of his hands. “Besides, those are mine. Come on, don’t upset yourself.”

“I’m not upset. Why would I be upset looking at pictures of another man fucking my wife and treating her like trash? Why the fuck would that bother me at all? Why would I care if he hit you and held you down and then came all over you?”

“Pete, come on,” I said, as he stood up, the photos still in hand. He looked down at me and then threw most of them at me before storming out of the room. I heard him slam the door to the basement and I sat there in a daze with the dirty evidence all around me. As I picked them up and looked through them, I could understand why he was upset. Not only was Jake handsome with a big dick, but he also knew how to fuck. And he got me to do things I had never done before or since.

And so I moved to the couch with a full glass of wine and the pictures, because I didn’t know what else to do. But as I sat there, flipping through my memories in vivid color, it was impossible not to go back. One photo after another reminded me of him, of our time together, and more specifically, of that one afternoon.

We decided to cut class in the morning and go out for breakfast at the diner. And then he ordered a beer and I had one too and by noon we were back at his apartment opening a bottle of vodka as we pawed at each other. We had only been dating for a few weeks, but we fucked every single day. Before class, after class, almost in class. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. If I’m being honest, he wasn’t the nicest guy in the world, or even the best boyfriend, but my god could he fuck. His cock was only part of it, although I wasn’t complaining, but his real skill was in figuring out what I wanted the most and then giving it to me.

After just the first week of dating, he held me down one evening as he rubbed his cock against me. I had a condom sitting on the bedside table, but Jake hadn’t put it on yet. He smiled at me as he touched me, and I was practically begging for him.

“Do you want this?” he asked, pushing just the head of his cock inside me.

“Yes,” I moaned, practically begging.

“Would you stop me right now if I just fucked you?”

“No,” I whimpered, embarrassed but honest all the same. There was no way I would have said no to him.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to feel me like this. My big bare cock inside you, fucking you until I come inside your filthy little cunt, isn’t that right?”

I covered my eyes with my hands, my cheeks flushed red, but I nodded all the same. Because the truth was he was right. I wanted to feel his skin on mine, I wanted to feel him slide inside me, and I wanted him to come in me. Not so much for the feeling, but because of what it meant. After just one week I wanted him to devour me. To own me. To claim me completely, and him fucking me and coming inside me meant all of that.

“Say it,” he whispered, pushing a little harder.

“Please fuck me,” I cried, trying to shove down onto him. “I want to be yours. I want to belong to you…”