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She was just about ready for bed. Her husband was downstairs in the den drinking his bourbon and binging shows he had seen dozens of times before, disengaged as he at all times was. It would be at least an hour until he even stood up from the couch. She, meanwhile, was already planning in her mind everything she needed to do in just the first hours of the day. 

Stepping into her walk-in closet, she started changing for sleep. In the corner of her eye, she saw a glimmer of movement, and before she knew what was happening, the figure had leapt out at her, one hand holding her throat, the other clasping her mouth. He was entirely in black. He was a blur. In those moments, everything froze. Should she fight, should she run, should she attempt to scream. She wondered of how her father had at all times kept a revolver in his sock drawer, and suddenly thought if she had every done this, which of course she hadn’t. No logic could occur. She simply turned to stone. Then, she heard the whisper.

“Scared…aren’t you. You should be scared.”

Her heartrate continued to climb, but now, the reasons changed. It was him. It was the guy she had been exchanging naughty messages with over her phone. Thoughts raced through her head…how did he discover her, how did he get it, what if he’s seen, what does he want, do I want this to be happening, should I be as excited as I am. 

“I think we’ve both had enough of you going to bed at night without a proper fuck, so I’m going to take the necessary steps to make things right.”

At that, his hand slipped from her mouth, past her sleeping shirt, over her panties. Immediately her arousal was clear. He broke into her house. He hid in her closet. He grabbed her in secret, with every risk of being caught by her husband. Everything in this scenario should have infuriated her, but instead she hungered more for him now than ever before. The boldness of his action had made her melt. When he grabbed her, she had turned to stone, but now she was liquid. She was whatever form he desired to build of her. 

In a moment she was turned around, hands clasping the top of her dresser. His cock was sliding in. She let out a brief gasp, but in a moment his hand pulled back up over her mouth. He understood the timing here; this would not be a drawn out occasion. In a few moments he was pounding into her with furious speed. 

The more forceful he was, the more she felt her body naturally give in. He grabbed her neck, her hair, and held her in position. He pounded her, as she silently screamed. A flash of fear went through her, and she briefly considered telling him to stop, but instead, she chose to push back into him, matching his intensity, as her juices dripped down her thighs.

She realized that this closet would never look the same again. As he drove his cock into her, and she imagined the times she would relive this moment pleasing herself in this very spot. 

“A good girl. Cum for me.” The whisper was horse, demanding, and carried the air of consequences. He slowly and deliberately while pounding into her with increasing ferocity. He began rocking her so forcefully that he became too deep, but somehow not deep enough all at once. 

Everything, pleasure and pain and emotion, was intensifying and melting into one sensation as she felt his cock throb and he released inside her, marking and claiming it as his own, in the very bedroom of her husband. With the pulsing of his cock, and with his hands clasping tightly around her mouth she reached climax. Her eyes rolled back, as her whole body convulsed with pleasure. She knew the little amount of noise that wasn’t muffled by the clothing around them would be drowned out by the television, but she thought if her shaking would cause the whole house to vibrate with her. The world was knocked out of kilter, as she felts waves of satisfaction and exhaustion. 

He spun her around, holding her head in his hands, and kissed her deeply.

“Dream of me” he said. It was not a opinion of sweetness. It was an order.

And at that, he darted off.

NSFW: yes

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