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On the other hand, I was under the covers with a warm, very nice, very naked woman. As she was now on her side facing away from me, I took the opportunity to spoon back, inserting my erection into the cleft between her cheeks as I reached around and found an already aroused nipple, and then pussy. Holding my hand against her breast, she said, “Do you need to take a pee, or are you just happy to see me?” I confessed that my bladder needed attention before anything else would go on successfully. I excused myself and padded off, naked, to the bathroom. Finishing my business, I glanced at myself in the mirror. I was looking pretty disheveled. “Emily!” I called out, “I think I’m going to take a quick shower.” “Okay, I’ll bring you a fresh towel in a minute. Go ahead and start. You can use my shower gel and shampoo if you don’t mind smelling ‘girly’.” As I ran the water, I took a sniff. They actually smelled more “sporty” than “girly”, so I decided to use them. I was done washing my. ” I sigh, pouring more scotch into my glass. "Katherine, I didn't want to be that girl. The home wrecker. I didn't steal your husband nor was it ever my intention. We were both deceived. I’m sorry." I hang up before slowly settling down against the bathroom door. I wasn’t crying, just felt… hollow. As if my heart had stopped beating and there was no more air in my lungs. He had already left but his mark was still on my skin, haunting me. A trail of his seed seeps out of my slit and trails down my bare thigh, the inside of my calf. A reminder of where he had been. The shower was still wet from when he had cleansed himself only an hour before, removing any traces of my perfume, my taste, my mark. I was the other woman. I was the one he fucked like a whore before going home and tucking his children into bed. Guilt, shame, and anger mixed together in my blood. I had been so effortlessly wrapped around his touch. His taste. His smell. I was the other woman. * “Stewart, why don’t you kiss.
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