Ephemeral

un: eric

   "You're disgraceful, Lace."

"And you're unfaithful. Touché, yes?"

Eric let out a sinister laugh and with ease, held Lace by her small waist and placed her on his lap so that her back was to his chest and spread her legs apart, on each side of his. Lace knew what he wanted her to do.

She bent down onto the floor so that her plump ass was on perfect display for him, half covered with lace underwear, and started to move her hips against Eric's jean covered erection, creating a deliciously addictive friction.

"Just like that, Lace, you're such a good girl. So obedient... so responsive..."

Lace lived and breathed on those words, the exact type of praise she needed. She wanted to feel loved and safe in the arms of an older man. And here she was, shamelessly grinding herself onto Eric, who was thirty eight years old and happily married. At least it seemed like a happy marriage, but then again, if he was so happy with the one he loved most in his life, then why was he allowing this beautifully dangerous young woman to pleasure himself on him?

"I'm going to come." Eric felt an orgasm already approaching. As if he didn't feel pathetic enough, he was about to come in his pants like a horny teenage boy. His wife could never make him feel this way.

As he anticipated, his erection started to throb, and then he released a loud groan as his liquid was released into his jeans, forming a large wet patch on his groin.

Lace threw her head back and let out a loud laugh, her hair falling down her waist. She caught his dark and aroused eyes from behind her shoulder.

"So soon? We were just getting started." She pouted playfully. Eric felt his face heat up in a small blush. Had he really just blushed? Even more pathetic.

"Aww, don't feel so embarrassed, Mr. Martin. I often make men come in less than a minute, no matter how long they claim they last." Lace giggled, switching their positions so that she was facing him and straddling his hips as he rested his head on the pure white pillows.

Eric growled. "You're so young. How did you learn how to make a man come so soon?" He nibbled on her earlobe. Lace sighed and bit her bottom lip.

"Practice makes perfect." She whispered, dragging her lips down his neck. After a few more minutes of kissing and touching, Eric stood from the bed and grabbed a pair of new jeans and underwear from his dresser and changed into them, throwing his dirty ones in the laundry basket.

Lace watched intently as he zipped himself up and re-buttoned his shirt. She didn't come yet and her underwear was still soaked.

"Aren't you going to come back over here so we can finish what we started?"

"My wife will be here soon from work. You need to leave."

Lace scoffed, "well I'm sure that when she comes back she'll appreciate the fact that you can't be bothered to make a woman orgasm."

Eric rolled his eyes. "You're insufferable. Another night I will give you what you want but for now..." He didn't even give her a goodbye kiss and just ushered her out his bedroom door, giving her clothes back. "...I have to take you back home now. I'm sorry, Lace."

Lace pushed him aggressively away from her and began to put her clothes back on, over her lace lingerie. Garter belt, stockings and all.

"I'll be walking myself home. And there is no other night, because I don't think I want to fuck a man who won't even be able to last as long as I do. Besides, I'm a one night stand."

Eric ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Lace, don't be like this..."

"Don't be like what?" She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm just being honest, Eric. Goodnight."

He didn't even follow her out the front door, and she still had his jacket. She pulled it tighter against her body, exhaling the scent of his aftershave and cologne and walking silently into the dark. Another stranger's love is another woman's pleasure. 

Anyways, she left a little note for his wife - detailed sexual content was written of all the things she had supposedly had in plan for her husband on plain white paper marked with her maroon lipstick, right at the bottom - a little proof of her affair.