The front door clicked shut behind me, and I said it the same way I always did, playful and sing-song, my voice laced with excitement and mischief.
“Honey, I’m home… and I brought a present for you.”
I heard the rustle of the couch and Adam’s eager footsteps just as I was kicking off my heels. My dress was still clinging to my thighs, the scent of sweat and sex heavy in the air around me. My panties? Long gone—somewhere on the floor of a Tinder guy’s car.
Adam’s face appeared around the corner, his expression as sweet and hungry as ever. I didn’t even give him a moment to ask how it went. I just smiled, grabbed his hand, and guided him toward the bedroom like I was unwrapping a surprise.
“I want you to clean me,” I whispered, tugging him close once the bedroom door closed behind us. “Clean my dirty pussy.”
That same phrase, over and over, date after date—it had become our ritual. My favorite part, if I’m being honest. Better than the drinks, better than the dick, even better than the orgasm the other guy gave me. Coming home to Adam? That’s where the real magic lives.…
