Some One Shot Gay Fantasy

8. My friend's dad

Mark and I were an unlikely pair. He was the brainy, quiet type, while I was more average and outgoing. We bonded over a science project a year ago and have been inseparable since. He's a walking encyclopedia, but also kind of shy. I’m not exactly athletic, but I hold my own.
Mark was always going on about how his parents were like ghosts in their own house. His mom, some high-powered real estate shark, was always jetting off to close deals or whatever. His dad, a city inspector, was even more elusive. I'd only heard whispers about the guy. It was like living in a mansion with roommates who never showed up for the rent.
But I wasn't complaining. Mark’s place was a gamer's paradise. A ninety-inch TV that made my eyes feel like they were swimming in IMAX, a computer that could probably run a small country, and a fridge stocked with enough pizza to feed a small army. It was our escape, our fortress of solitude. We'd lose ourselves for hours, controllers buzzing in our hands, or fingers flying across the keyboard. It was like having a personal VIP pass to the world of pixels and endless possibilities.
And the best part? No adults to tell us to turn it down or go to bed. Just Mark, me, and the glow of the screens. It was our little secret world, a place where we could be whoever we wanted to be.
Friday nights were our sacred ritual. Mark and I would transform his massive living room into a battleground of pixels and sound effects. Every week, without fail, I’d make the trek to his place, eager to dive back into whatever digital world we’d been exploring.
Tonight was no different. I bounced up the steps, my fingers itching for the controller. The familiar sight of the house filled me with a sense of comfort. I rang the bell, my mind already racing through the levels we’d conquer.
The door swung open, but instead of Mark’s familiar, shy face, I was met with a towering figure. A man. A big man. And he was staring at me like I’d just sprouted a second head.
“And who are you?” His voice rumbled, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
“Hey, um, hi Mr. Johnson,” I stammered, my brain short-circuiting. Mark’s dad. The mythical creature I’d only heard about. He looked me up and down, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
“Ah, you must be Dave, right?” He finally said, setting down a newspaper. “Mark didn’t mention you were coming over tonight.”
I felt my face heat up. “Yeah, well, he invited me to stay over and play some games with him. Nice to meet you, sir!” I managed to squeak out.
He had been and always will be my dilf of my heart since then.
"Come in, kid! He's upstairs, make yourself at home," a deep voice rumbled. A man stood in the doorway, his face etched with lines of experience. There was a kindness in his eyes, but also a hint of tiredness, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Thank you, Mr. Johnson," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. I stepped inside, the overwhelming scent of coffee and leather filling my senses.
"Just call me Chris, no need to be so formal," he chuckled, the sound echoing through the house.
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. I turned and sprinted up the stairs, eager to escape the intensity of the moment.
I burst into Mark's room, slamming the door behind me. "I thought your dad wasn't home tonight," I panted, catching my breath. Mark was sprawled out on his giant bed, scrolling through his phone like his life depended on it.
"Well, he seems to be pretty wiped out today, so he took a day off, I guess," he mumbled without even looking up. "Anyway, it's the same old story. He's been holed up in his room all day."
"But why didn't you tell me he was a freaking bear? I almost had a heart attack!" I exclaimed, still shaken by the encounter. Mark finally looked up, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Ah, yeah, that makes sense. You've never seen him before, huh? Sorry for forgetting to mention the whole 'giant dad' thing!" he chuckled.
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. But now that you're here, let's finish that level. We've got to take that boss down!" He pointed at the game on the screen, eager to escape the awkwardness of the situation.
—-----------------
In the dead of night, a sudden parched throat awakened me from my slumber. I groggily climbed down from Mark's bed, making my way to the kitchen in search of relief. After quenching my thirst with a glass of cool water, I felt satisfied and ready to return to bed.
However, as I ascended the stairs, the faint glow emanating from Mr. Johnson's room caught my attention. My curiosity piqued, I found myself drawn towards the source of the light, despite knowing I should simply rejoin Mark in his room. The urge to investigate proved too strong to resist, and I quietly made my way towards the door, my heart pounding in anticipation of what I might discover.
The door slowly creaked open, I was met with a sight that took my breath away. Mr. Johnson, so composed and professional, was hunched over beneath his bed, his thin shorts stretched taut over a super-sized behind that looked as if it belonged on a professional athlete, not a civil servant. Round and plump, the ass filled out the shorts so perfectly that it almost looked painted on.
The rest of his body, though hidden from view, could be heard rustling around underneath the bed frame. The sound of clothing being moved around coupled with occasional grunts and sighs suggested he was engaged in some sort of activity, further adding to the tantalizing spectacle before me.
My voice came out softer than intended, a gentle knock accompanied by a slow, "Uh, hi Mr. Johnson, it's Dave. Do you need some help?"
I couldn't help but notice how startled he seemed, his body jerking against the bed frame, causing the entire structure to shudder slightly. The sight of his usually composed demeanor thrown into disarray sent a thrill through me.
"Sorry to catch you in the middle of... um, whatever," I stammered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "But sure, I can lend a hand if you need it."
Mr. Johnson's muffled voice emerged from beneath the bed, tinged with a hint of desperation. "If you don't mind, kid, could you just give me a little assistance here? I really need to grab something from under there."
"Okay, no sweat," I replied, eager to assist. "What do you need me to do?"
His voice echoed from beneath the bed, laced with a hint of frustration. "I need you to lift the damn thing, kid. But then again, it's probably too heavy for you. Or... you could try pushing me in deeper, I'm kinda stuck here."
I hesitated for a moment, considering my options. "Alright, let me give it a shot," I said, stepping closer to where Chris knelt, his massive posterior filling my field of vision.
As I approached, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach. This was certainly an unusual situation, one I'd never found myself in before. But I was determined to help, even if it meant getting up close and personal with Mr. Johnson's, uh, assets.
Feeling a bit awkward, yet also strangely excited, I placed my hands on either side of the bed frame, bracing myself to lift. With a grunt, I attempted to raise the edge closest to Mr. Johnson, hoping to provide him with enough space to retrieve whatever he needed.
I strained, my gaze inadvertently drifted downwards, taking in the full glory of Mr. Johnson's ample rear end, its curves accentuated by the tight stretch of fabric across his cheeks. Despite the situation, I found myself unable to tear my eyes away from such a spectacular sight.
I tried to lift the bed, my initial enthusiasm quickly waned as I realized the sheer weight of the mattress was beyond my capabilities. Just as I was about to admit defeat, his voice rang out once more, laced with a hint of desperation.
"Don't try anymore, kid. You'll only end up hurting both of us," he warned, his tone sounding surprisingly vulnerable.
My hands fell away from the bed frame, leaving me standing there, panting lightly. His words hung in the air for a moment before he offered an alternative solution.
"Then the other way, try to push this old man deeper under the bed. Don't be shy!" he urged, his voice muffled but insistent.
Frozen in place, I found myself staring at his enormous backside, which rose up before me like a mountain range.
Without thinking much, I tentatively reached out, placing one hand firmly on Mr. Johnson's immense ass. The softness of the flesh beneath my palm contrasted sharply with the firm resistance of the fabric stretched tightly across his cheeks. A surge of warmth radiated from the contact point, spreading throughout my body and igniting a strange sense of excitement within me.
My heart pounded in my chest, echoing the rhythm of my shallow breaths. My fingers instinctively curled around the thick, fleshy mound, marveling at the texture and shape of Mr. Johnson's derriere.
"Okay, got it," I replied, steeling myself for the task ahead. Chris gave a final instruction, his voice urgent and commanding.
"Now, on my count - one, two, three! Push!"
Without hesitation, I pressed my palm firmly against Mr. Johnson's enormous ass, exerting all my strength to shove him further under the bed. To my surprise, my hand seemed to sink into the plush, yielding flesh as if it were quicksand, enveloping my entire palm.
A low groan escaped Chris' lips, followed by another plea. "Push harder, kid. I can't get any farther in!" His desperation was palpable, and I felt compelled to obey, driven by a mix of duty and... something else entirely.
I threw all my weight into the task, pushing with every ounce of strength I had. In a flash, my balance shifted, sending me stumbling forward. My hands instinctively flew out to brace myself, landing directly on the stretched fabric of Mr. Johnson's shorts.
The sudden loss of support caused the material to snap taut, like a rubber band about to break. Then, with a tearing sound, the shorts ripped apart, revealing Chris' massive, bare ass to my astonished gaze.
The sight took my breath away. The expanse of skin was flawless, smooth and unblemished, save for the faint dusting of hair at the base of his cheeks. The curve of each cheek was a masterpiece, round and perfectly formed, their firmness yielding slightly to the pressure of my palms.
The sight was overwhelming, a spectacle of raw, masculine beauty that left me momentarily speechless.
As I kneeling there, transfixed by the glorious expanse of Mr. Johnson's exposed ass, I couldn't help but let my gaze wander over every inch of it. The skin was a warm, golden brown, glistening slightly with sweat that clung to the surface in tiny droplets. Each cheek was perfectly rounded, the edges defined by a subtle crease where they met the backs of his thighs.
My fingertips danced across the smooth expanse, tracing the contours of his ass with a reverence bordering on worship. The sensation was incredible, the give of his flesh beneath my touch sending shivers down my spine. I could feel the heat emanating from his body, warming my palms and making my own skin tingle with anticipation.
Lost in the wonder of the moment, I found myself leaning forward, my face inches from Mr. Johnson's magnificent rear.
I leaned forward, my nose almost touching Mr. Johnson's supple flesh, I noticed a slight twitching at the base of his cheeks. Was it a muscle spasm? Or perhaps a sign of pleasure? The thought sent a jolt of arousal through my veins.
Suddenly, Mr. Johnson stirred, seemingly aware of our predicament. He attempted to sit up, but the effort was futile. It appeared that my impromptu assistance had indeed managed to push him further under the bed, effectively trapping him in his current position.
His efforts to free himself only served to accentuate the magnificence of his ass, the muscles rippling beneath the skin as he struggled. And yet, despite his obvious discomfort, I found myself unable to look away, captivated by the sight before me.
My rational thoughts abandoned me, consumed by a primal urge to explore this forbidden territory. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, and was immediately overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of Mr. Johnson's ass. It was a heady aroma, musky and masculine, filling my nostrils and driving me wild with desire.
I breathed in the fragrance, my cock began to stir, rising to attention within the confines of my shorts. The hardness grew, throbbing with each beat of my heart, until it strained against the fabric, seeking release.
Without conscious thought, I pressed my face closer to Mr. Johnson's ass, my lips brushing against the warm, soft skin. The sensation was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I could feel the heat emanating from his flesh, and the subtle tremors that ran through him as I explored his most intimate area.
Driven by an insatiable curiosity and a hunger for pleasure, I began to explore Mr. Johnson's ass more thoroughly. My tongue darted out, flicking against the sensitive skin, tasting the saltiness of his flesh. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever experienced, a blend of textures and flavors that tantalized my senses.
Mr. Johnson squirmed beneath me, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "Hey, what are you doing?" he grunted, though his voice held a note of arousal rather than indignation. His attempts to push me away only served to deepen my fascination, and I found myself pressing harder against his resisting form.
I continued my assault on his ass, my tongue tracing the crevice between his cheeks, exploring every inch with meticulous care. The texture of his skin was divine, smooth yet firm, offering just enough resistance to make the experience even more thrilling.
Lost in the depths of Mr. Johnson's ass, I reveled in the sensation of his warm, yielding flesh enveloping my face. My mouth watered incessantly, drool pooling around my chin as I feasted on his most intimate orifice. The taste was exquisite, a heady mix of sweat, musk, and something uniquely him that left me craving more.
My hands moved in tandem with my tongue, slapping against the plush globes of his ass, squeezing and releasing in a relentless rhythm. I stretched the skin taut, then compressed it, relishing the way it yielded to my touch. The sounds of my ministrations filled the room, a lewd symphony of slurping, sucking, and smacking that seemed to grow louder with each passing second.
Mr. Johnson's struggles intensified, his legs kicking wildly beneath me. Despite his protests, there was a clear undertow of pleasure in his movements, a silent invitation to continue my debauchery.
He was soon to squirmed beneath me, the movement causing his ass to clench and unclench around my face, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. His muffled moans and gasps were music to my ears, fueling my ardor even further.
I increased the intensity of my movements, my tongue probing deeper, swirling around the tight ring of muscle that guarded his inner sanctum. Each time I touched it, it would tense and quiver, a clear indication of its sensitivity. I knew I was pushing boundaries, but the thrill of the transgression only added to my excitement.
The slick sound of my saliva mixing with his natural lubrication echoed in the quiet room, a wet slap punctuating each slap of my hand against his plump ass.
Encouraged by the slight give of Mr. Johnson's ass, I inserted a finger, feeling the tightness wrap around me like a velvet vice. My tongue worked in tandem, probing and teasing, spreading him open even further. The combination of my digit and my agile tongue made quick work of loosening him up, preparing him for the onslaught that was sure to come.
I felt his muscles relax incrementally, giving way to my persistent intrusion. Each wiggle of my finger, each swirl of my tongue elicited a response, a sign that I was getting closer to breaching his inner sanctum. My other hand joined in, kneading the flesh of his ass, adding to the sensory overload that was consuming us both.
The room was filled with the lewd sounds of our consensual encounter, the wet slap of flesh on flesh, the muffled moans escaping Mr. Johnson's lips as he pushed back against me, eager for more.
With Mr. Johnson now fully relaxed, I withdrew my finger, replacing it with my tongue. I slid it deep inside him, feeling the warmth and tightness of his hole surrounding me. The taste of his ass was incredible, a unique flavor that was both familiar and exotic.
I began to thrust my tongue in and out of him, mimicking the motion of a cock entering his rectum. Each stroke sent shivers down my spine, and I could feel my own arousal growing. My cock throbbed in my pants, straining against the fabric as I lost myself in the pleasure of ravaging Mr. Johnson's ass.
The sounds of our encounter reached a fever pitch, the slapping of my tongue against his walls, the gurgling moans escaping his lips, and the wet suction as I pulled out only to plunge back in.
Step back, I did, marveling at the sight before me. Mr. Johnson's ass was a masterpiece, a canvas painted with streaks of saliva and flushes of arousal. His hole glistened invitingly, the tight opening beckoning me to claim it as my own.
I tore off my pants, freeing my throbbing member. It stood proudly, a testament to my arousal, twitching eagerly towards Mr. Johnson's waiting hole. I gripped my shaft, stroking it slowly as I admired the view, the sight of my cock poised at the entrance of his ass sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.
"Fuck," I groaned, unable to contain my excitement. "This is going to be good.”
My cock throbbed in my grip, its girth resembling a can of soda, its length stretching over twelve inches. The veins pulsed visibly along its length, betraying my mounting arousal. Pre-cum oozed from the tip, dripping onto the floor below, leaving a trail of evidence of my desire.
I positioned myself behind Mr. Johnson, aligning my cock with his wet, gaping hole. The sight was intoxicating, the promise of what was to come sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Gripping my cock firmly, I rubbed the head against his puckered entrance, coating it in his natural lubricant.
"Stop! Stop, dammit!" Mr. Johnson's voice was a mix of desperation and anger, echoing in the confined space beneath the bed. His muscular frame squirmed underneath me, his body trying to reject the intrusion, his mind struggling to accept what was happening.
But I didn't listen. Instead, I pressed harder, rubbing the slickened head of my cock against his already dilated, wet hole, teasing him mercilessly. "Arhh. No, please... no..." His pleas were pathetic, a far cry from the dominant persona he projected in public.
"Please, Dave, I'm begging you... stop this madness! Think about your friendship with my son, think about my wife, my family... they'd never understand, they'd hate me if they knew..."
His words were laced with shame and regret, his pride wounded by the humiliation of being taken advantage of. But still, I didn't relent. My cock continued to tease his entrance, coating it with pre-cum, making it easier for me to penetrate him further.
"Think about your own dignity, Dave... you're not some animal, ravaging a helpless man... have some respect for yourself!"
His pleas grew more desperate, his voice cracking with emotion. He was begging like a loser, praying that I would stop, but I couldn't. My instincts took over, driving me to claim him completely.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of torment, I gave up all pretense of gentleness. With a firm push, I used the tip of my cock to breach Mr. Johnson's final line of defense. The feeling was indescribable – like tearing through thick velvet curtains to reveal the breathtaking view beyond. There was a moment of resistance, a brief struggle as his body adjusted to the intrusion, but then I was in, sliding deeper into his heat with each inch.
His muscles clenched around me, a vice-like grip that threatened to pull me in completely. I paused, savoring the sensation, reveling in the knowledge that I had breached this straight, married man's most intimate space.
As I broke through, I heard Mr. Johnson's voice, a strange mixture of pain and relief. "Oh fuck, oh God... I can't believe this is happening..." His words were muffled, choked out between gasps of agony. I could tell that there were tears streaming down his face, mixing with the sweat that coated his skin, as my cock head finally forced its way past his innermost barriers.
"Oh God, oh fuck... it's too big... too much..." he whimpered. I bet that his eyes were wide with fear and humiliation, cuz his once proud demeanor shattered by the reality of the situation.
"You're... you're ruining me... I can feel it... splitting me apart..." He sobbed uncontrollably, his body wracked with the effort of accommodating my massive cock. Despite his protests, his inner walls began to relax, allowing me to sink deeper into his depths.
The sensation of his tightness enveloping my cockhead sent jolts of pleasure shooting through my entire body. I groaned a low, guttural sound that echoed off the walls of the cramped space. "Shit, you're so fucking tight..." I managed to grunt out between heavy breaths.
Feeling his inner walls clench around me only spurred me on further. I began to thrust gently, pushing deeper into his warmth, his resistance crumbling away bit by bit. Each movement brought a fresh wave of ecstasy, the feeling of his tight hole gripping my cock driving me wild.
It was at this moment that I truly realized the extent of my dominance over Mr. Johnson. His body had been broken open, his hole stretched wide enough to accommodate my monstrous cock. Every inch of me was buried inside him, filling him to the brim.
I started to fuck him faster, harder, driven by a primal urge to claim him entirely. Each thrust was powerful, forcing my entire length into his welcoming warmth. His body trembled with each impact, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Fuck... fuck... fuck..." I chanted, my voice a low growl. I could feel my balls slapping against his with every thrust, the sound echoing in the small space.
Mr. Johnson's groans turned into cries of pain, his mental resolve crumbling under the relentless assault. "No... no more... it hurts... it's too much..." he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.
But I was too far gone to care. I gripped his hips tighter, pulling him back onto my cock with each thrust.
As I continued to pound into him, I noticed a subtle change in Mr. Johnson's reactions. The pain that had initially dominated his expressions seemed to fade, replaced by pure bliss. His body relaxed, surrendering to the pleasure that my massive cock was delivering to his virgin hole.
At first, he tried to hold back, to deny the pleasure that was washing over him. But it was futile. With each thrust, his resolve crumbled a little more until finally, he let out a loud, primal moan. It was a sound unlike anything I'd ever heard before - raw, animalistic, and utterly slutty.
His hips bucked involuntarily, meeting my thrusts with increasing enthusiasm. His leg, which had been clenched into rock hard muscle, relaxed and spread out across the floor, as if he wanted to spread himself wider to accommodate my girth.
We continued, I noticed Mr. Johnson's body beginning to respond to my touch. His muscles relaxed, and his breathing became slower, more measured. I took this as a sign to increase my pace, my hips moving in a steady rhythm as I plunged deeper into him.
In that moment, we were equals - two men sharing a moment of intense pleasure, bound together by the connection we had forged. It was a moment I would never forget, a memory that would stay with me forever.
"Fuck... I can't believe this... I'm... I'm actually enjoying this," he confessed, his voice shaky with disbelief. His once rock-hard abs now quivered with every thrust, the strength that had once been so intimidating now reduced to mere twitching muscle.
I grinned, feeling a sense of triumph and domination wash over me. This straight, married man was now nothing more than a cum-hungry slut, begging for my cock. I leaned down, my face inches from his, and growled, "You like that, don't you? You love having your ass fucked by a big, hard cock, even it's from your son's friend."
"Yes... yes, I do," he whimpered. "Please, don't stop. Fuck me harder." His words were music to my ears.
“Such a slut, spread your little hole to a highschool boy to fuck, your family should be ashamed by you!”
"I... I'm a slut... I'm your slut..." His words were barely coherent, spoken in a daze of lust and submission. The realization of his newfound pleasure made him even more vulnerable, his previous pride and dominance utterly forgotten.
With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into his warm embrace, his inner walls hugging my cock tightly, massaging it with every withdrawal. The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my entire body.
"Fucking hell... you're so deep... I've never felt anything like this before," he admitted, his voice breaking with each word.
My climax approached, I could feel my balls tightening, ready to release their load. With one final, powerful thrust, I shot my hot, sticky cum deep inside Mr. Johnson's welcoming hole. The sensation of my thick seed filling him up was indescribable, a rush of satisfaction and completion that washed over me like a tidal wave.
My cock pulsed and throbbed, each spurt sending another jet of cum into his tight, clenching depths. I could see it squirting out of his hole, coating his muscled thighs with my essence. His body jerked and spasmed beneath mine, his inner walls fluttering around my cock as he milked me for every drop.
I collapsed on top of his ass, panting heavily, my cock still throbbing inside him.
After our intense session, I slowly pulled out of Mr. Johnson's stretched hole, feeling his tightness gradually give way as my cock slid free. He let out a panicked shout, warning me not to withdraw,"Don't... if you pull out..." "... the cum inside will fall on the carpet!!!" but it was too late. My semi-soft dick slipped out completely, leaving behind a gaping, slick entrance that struggled to close itself.
I watched, mesmerized, a torrent of cum began to ooze out of his violated hole, splattering onto the carpet below in thick rivulets. It was as if his body was determined to expel every last drop of my seed, and the sight was both humiliating and arousing.
"Shit, I didn't mean to make such a mess," I said, trying to sound contrite despite the thrill running through me.
the last drops of cum dribbled out of Mr. Johnson's hole, staining the carpet beneath us, I realized just how much I had taken from him. Not only his innocence, but also his dignity. Yet, there was something about seeing him like this – exposed, humiliated, and covered in my cum – that sent a jolt of excitement through my veins.
I looked down at Mr. Johnson's violated hole, I was struck by its raw, carnal beauty. The tight ring of muscle, still pulsating from the intensity of our encounter, glistened with beads of sweat and strands of saliva. The thin layer of cum that coated it gave it a sheen, highlighting the delicate folds and ridges within. The puckered opening seemed to beckon me back, inviting me to claim it again, to fill it once more with my hot, sticky seed.
The sight was both horrifying and incredibly arousing, reminding me of the power I held over this strong, proud man. A part of me wanted to reach down and plunge back into that warm, wet cavern, to watch as it clenched around me once more.
I couldn't help but marvel at its destruction. The once proud and unyielding entrance now lay limp and deflated, glistening with a mixture of sweat, precum, and my copious load of semen. The delicate skin surrounding it was red and puffy, streaked with faint bruises where my fingers had dug in during our frenzied coupling.
The rim of his anus was slightly swollen, still partially distended from the sizeable intrusion I'd forced upon it. A thin trickle of clear fluid seeped from within, testament to the lingering sensitivity and vulnerability of his abused passage. Despite the mess, his hole seemed to be craving more, yearning to be filled again by my thick, veiny shaft.
I stood up, my spent cock still twitching with aftershocks, I took in the scene before me. Mr. Johnson remained pinned beneath the bed, his massive frame sprawled awkwardly, legs splayed and covered in cum and sweat.
The air was heavy with the musky scent of sex and the acrid tang of spilled cum. I felt a perverse sense of ownership, knowing that I had marked this powerful man in the most intimate way possible. My seed, mingling with the dust bunnies and forgotten socks, would forever stain this place as a testament to my conquest.
For a moment, I considered finishing him off, taking him again right here amidst the chaos we'd created.
With a sudden rush of clarity, I realized the gravity of what I'd done. Mr. Johnson, a man who should've been untouchable, was now lying helpless beneath his own bed, covered in my cum. I hastily pulled on my clothes, my hands shaking as I tried to fasten my belt.
As I raced towards Mark's room, I felt a pang of guilt mixed with exhilaration. This wasn't just some random hookup; I had violated someone's trust, someone's husband. But the thought of telling anyone, of facing the consequences, terrified me. And yet, there was a part of me that reveled in the taboo nature of it all, the thrill of getting away with something so wrong.