The sun was starting to rise after the summer solstice when Marisa arrived home. She stumbled inside and was greeted by her husband. "I was so worried. I called Orla and Cassie. They both thought you were home already," he says. She didn't intend to cheat on her husband, it just happened. A night of drinking with her girlfriends and a handsome smile from a cute guy at the bar made her weak in the knees. "How was your night out?" John asks. Marisa can't remember much except for a toe-curling orgasm in a stranger's bed. She drunkenly mumbles something incoherent and seductively smiles at her man. He ogles his wife dressed in black jeans that fit tight around the hips and a gray blouse that makes her already voluptuous chest look even bigger. Only slight waves remain in her long brown hair. Her blue eyes are inviting and John takes the hint. Standing in the doorway still, he slams his wife back against the front door and the two sloppily make out like high schoolers.

Just hours before she was doing the same thing with a man she just met. "You know this is my favorite shirt. Your boobs look fucking incredible in this," he says, feeling up her breasts. His hands explore under her blouse before working it over her head and onto the floor. John takes a step back to admire her. "You're wearing your Valentine's Day present," he says, excited. Her pale skin makes the bright red satin of her bra strikingly vibrant. Marisa drunkenly leans back against the door. "Why aren't you naked?" she slurs. For the second time that night, she watches a man quickly strip in front of her. Things are more explosive at home. John yanks her by the hair and drags her to the dining room table. Aggressively, her husband bends her over the table and raises his hand. He delivers a heavy-handed slap to her ass making Marisa squeal. Pushing down on her back, he pins her to the tabletop. With another slap, her body jolts this time. "Why are your pants still on?" he asks. She lays motionless as he reaches around her waist and carefully unbuttons her jeans. Marisa's heartbeat skyrockets worried her husband might find evidence from her earlier exploits.

Kneeling down he kisses along the rim of her jeans fitted snugly around her hips. His hands gently tug down her jeans exposing her ass. "Matching, eh?" John comments after seeing her red thong. Spreading her legs slightly, John kisses the fabric covering her crotch. Marisa reaches back and presses his head between her legs. Something is off but her husband can't pinpoint what exactly. Tugging her thong to the side, his tongue glides along her slit. "Fuck me," she groans. He's barely started munching on his wife. Marisa's fingers are still ruffling the hair on the back of John's head. "Fuck me," she repeats. He pulls back his mouth and takes her thong to the floor. The crotch inside of her panties is crusty and John starts to wonder what she did after leaving her friends.

Mounting his wife from behind, they start to have sex. Marisa giggles with joy feeling her husband enter her body. "I've wanted this all night," she says, clearly still intoxicated. Her arms stretch out and she lifts her leg to rest on the table. Looking down at the action, John watches his shaft penetrate his wife. Marisa whips her head to the side and glances back at her husband lovingly. The pace is high, and the two grunt and moan clearly enjoying themselves. Again something isn't right. John takes off his wife's bra but the clasps on the back aren't aligned correctly. The act comes to a halt. "What's wrong?" Marisa asks, upset she is no longer being fucked. A thousand thoughts race through John's head as silence rings out.

In a rage, Marisa is ripped from the table by her hair and dragged to the hallway where she is slammed against the wall. The grin on her face indicates she thinks this is still just rough sex until her husband speaks. "Did you fuck someone else tonight?" Her smile fades. "What?" Marisa responds trying not to panic. John keeps her pinned against the wall. "You didn't taste the same. The back of your bra wasn't on right," he snarls. He releases her and races away for a moment only to return with her panties. "These are awfully crusty for someone who didn't have sex tonight," he roars.

Marisa stands naked in front of her husband, drunk and afraid. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. "Fucking slut," John mutters, looking at the red thong in his hand. She cowers as he approaches, scared of what could come next. In a fury, John drags his wife to the bedroom and places her on the floor, leaning Marisa against the bed. Still semi-erect he pushes her head against the bed and commands her to open her mouth. She obeys his order and he forces his shaft down her throat. Quickly her eyes start to water. Usually, Marisa has to ask her husband to treat her this way. He thrusts into her mouth until she starts tapping his hips trying to get him to pull out. He continues for a moment before withdrawing his cock. Marisa gasps for air momentarily before lunging forward to suck her husband. "Did you fuck someone else tonight?" he asks again. Her head rests against the bed and she rolls her eyes, annoyed at the question. John lowers himself to her level and asks her again. Frustrated, she answers. "Fuck off. Fine. Yes, I did."

The room is silent. Marisa awaits the wrath of her husband. She leans motionless against the bed and can feel her husband's breath on her face. "Why?" he snarls. Marisa smirks. "Because I'm drunk. Duh," she starts. "I didn't mean to. He bought all of us drinks and said all the right things. I kissed him outside the bar and the next thing I know we were having sex at his place." Her eyes are closed but she can hear John step away. Marisa crawls onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, worried she just ruined her marriage.

John returns and asserts himself between the legs of his wife. Unbeknownst to Marisa, he has hidden her thong under the pillow she is resting her head on. "You want to act like a slut. I am going to treat you like one," John grumbles into her ear. Her barrels his cock into his wife. She drapes her arms around his neck and tries to kiss him. John grabs her by the neck and chokes her, Marisa smiles. He uses his other hand to pinch her nipple hard enough to make his wife squeal. "Did he make you cum?" John barks. He releases his grip on her neck for her to answer. She doesn't want to tell him she remembers a beautiful, thick hard cock pummeling her G-spot and ignores the question. "Did my beautiful slutty wife cum for another man?" he asks, calmer this time. He slows down enough she has to answer. "Yes," Marisa moans. "How?" he follows up quickly. She hesitates at first but answers. "With his dick."

Slowly fucking his wife he continues to question her, "Did you return the favor?" He doesn't give her a chance to answer. John thumps his cock into his wife waiting for the right moment. Marisa's mouth hangs open as she shrieks with pleasure. Her husband pulls the red thong from under the pillow and shoves it into her mouth. Firmly placing a hand over her mouth to keep it shut. "I know you did. How does his crusty load taste on your thong? Did you even try to clean him out of there before you shoved my face between your legs?" John rants. Exerting all his pent-up aggression, John hammers his cock into his wife. Locking his eyes on her body, he watches Marisa's body tense up. "Now you're going to cum on my cock?" John shouts over the headboard crashing against the wall. She shakes her head yes, his hand still covering her mouth. Softened moans escape Marisa. John is unrelenting.

Ripping her panties from her mouth the volume in the room increases as Marisa's loud orgasm is no longer muted. "You are so fucking beautiful," John yells over the chaos. He grips her hair and watches his wife wince. He pulls out from Marisa's pussy and thrusts his shaft into her mouth. "Swallow me you fuckin' whore," he bellows. Before she can even start to suck on him, he starts to unload into her. Marisa's glazed over eyes meet her husband's and her lips are locked around his girth. Her hand swirls around his shaft until his balls are empty. She licks his shaft clean before collapsing back to the bed. John falls next to her and she snuggles her way into his arms.

"Still love me?" Marisa asks. The concern is still in the air he doesn't but it quickly subsides. "Of course I do," John says tenderly. Without opening her eyes, she smiles and manages to snuggle even closer to her husband. "It would be pretty hypocritical for me not to," he pauses. A glance at his wife and it's obvious she is out cold. Her faint snores break the silence. Wide awake, John blankly watches the sun crawl across the ceiling. "Just invite me next time you want to fuck someone else," he says to the universe hoping his wife subconsciously hears his fantasy.