I sucked far more aggressively than I had intended. She gasped dramatically and wove her fingers through my hair and pulled downwards, securing my head to her crotch. I sucked even harder and she held back a scream. Her husband has never pleased her the way I can. I tested her vagina’s lubrication with a finger and found it to be as copious as mine tended to be, so I inserted my finger into her dripping hole and felt around for her G-spot. She hummed lewdly in approval, and if that wasn’t a clear enough sign that she was enjoying herself, she moaned, “(God, yes…)” ((I bet she’s never whispered that to him, never screamed her excitement.)) A few times I thought I had found the spot only to discover a lack of sponginess, but on my fifth attempt I knew that I had it because she pulled my hair and wrapped her legs around my head and squeezed and gasped. ((He’s never felt her legs squeezing his head.)) I continued even as I felt a little squished, sucking and fingering industriously, bringing her closer and closer to perfection, her voice rising, her moans growing deafening, until we were rewarded with a scream of pleasure and the clenching of every muscle in her body, including the ones wrapped around my finger. ((He’s never made her cum like this. He’s never made her cum at all.)) I stopped, disentangled myself from her legs, and got off my knees. Her chest was heaving, her head was resting on the back of her chair, her face and chest were dotted with beads of moisture, and her mouth was wide open as she panted. ((He’s never made an absolute sweaty mess of her.)) I sat in my chair, brought our faces together, and kissed her cheek.