A week ago, I caught my husband of five years cheating on me.

For months I’d suspected something was going on behind my back. My husband never really knew how or cared to find my hot spot, always leaving me unsatisfied. He shrugged off my complaints, saying I should just finish myself off. I tried to spice things up by bringing in sex toys, but he said that meant I thought something was wrong with his dick. Soon our mundane sex romps were even less frequent than our usual once-a-week routine.

Then I came home early from work because my last client of the day had canceled on me. I didn’t bother to call my husband to inform him of my early return. When I opened our bedroom door my mouth fell open. I was shocked to see my husband giving it to some slut — hard and much more enthusiastically than he’d ever fucked me. Her tits bounced and his ass jiggled as they rode the sex wave.

“What the fuck?” I finally yelled.“Caitlin, it’s not what it looks like,” my husband said, rolling off the home-wrecker.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re fucking that whore,” I screamed and cried at the same time, then yelled at both of them, “Get out of my house. Go to hell!”

For a week I didn’t tell anyone. My husband apologized, but we agreed that our marriage couldn’t be repaired. I felt undesirable and rejected. Finally, I told my friend Stella, and she invited me to her place for dinner, telling me to bring a bottle of wine. She said we would have a therapy session, and promised me the night would not end in tears, but happiness.

When I arrived, Stella was wearing a red silky robe. I asked her if she needed some time to get dressed, but she said she just wanted to be casual. We opened a bottle of my favorite red wine while feasting on some delicious food Stella had cooked. I was weepy about my marriage’s demise. Stella kept telling me that my husband was a dick and he didn’t value a true woman. I divulged my innermost secrets and told her I’d even tried to bring sex toys into the bedroom.

Suddenly we were opening up to each other about our sexual fantasies. Stella admitted she’d always wanted to try a female fling. She said I was gorgeous and confessed that she’d masturbated to the thought of us hooking up. I giggled and laughed it off.

Then Stella said she wanted to show me her new comforter. I followed her into her bedroom, and before I could realize what was happening, Stella pushed me onto her bed. She softly brushed her lips on my neck, then grazed my lips. She was sending chills up and down my body.

Finding herself meeting my tacit approval, she became more aggressive and her tongue found mine. I was making out with my beautiful friend, surprised to realize that my pussy was throbbing and melting from the girlie action. My head was spinning by the time Stella reached into the drawer of her nightstand with one hand while fondling my wet pussy with the other. I glanced up at a hot-pink, extra-long dildo.

Stella removed my pants and moist panties, then drove the mock-cock into my waiting pussy. I relished the way she pumped and handled the dildo, and my pelvis gyrated in a sensual frenzy while she expertly drilled my hot spot. I yelped in delight as I came.

In the heat of passion, I tossed Stella onto her back. I ripped off her silky robe and found she was completely naked, proving she had planned this. I reached into her nightstand and found another dildo, and prepared to drill Stella’s pussy until she cried for mercy.

— C.C., Tennessee

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From the September 2015 issue of Penthouse magazine.

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