The Fury of the Neglected Lover

Chapter 20

Sometimes we find ourselves unhappy, trapped in draining relationships, but we keep going out of convenience. I've never been one for confrontations, and at least he seemed happy. My boyfriend's a decent guy, but he's limited in bed and not open to talking about it. He gets offended every time I try to show him what I like, which leaves me frustrated. So many ideas have run through my head, so many ways to break the monotony, but he always picks the easy, quick, and predictable route.

Lately, a forbidden thought won't leave my mind: a mix of desire and revenge. I wanted to give myself to one of his friends. I wanted to destroy the Christian reputation he valued so much. I wanted to feel humiliated. The lack of being satisfied as a woman was building a raging fury inside me. And don't think he wasn't warned. In our last fight, I said it straight up, no bullshit, that if he didn't step up and act like a man at home, I'd go looking for it from his friends. He was warned in no uncertain terms. And it happened right after the threat was made.

I'd picked my target—he was just a regular friend who hung out at my boyfriend's place, but that day, I was going to hit him with everything I had. The dress a little shorter, the way I crossed my legs on the couch, and the lingering looks disguised as casual teasing. I knew exactly what I was doing.

His friend had always been the opposite of my boyfriend: confident, with an easy smile that hid something deeper, a spark of mischief I'd never had the guts to explore... until now. It was almost unbearable the way he moved around the room, so at ease, like he already knew the power he had over me. He'd been eyeing me for a while, smiling at me for no reason, always prying into my personal life.

The conversation flowed casually among the three of us, while my boyfriend talked away, oblivious to the game playing out right under his nose. My eyes met his in subtle moments—long enough to make the blood rush. When my boyfriend went to the kitchen, I seized the chance.

"Am I gonna use you today, man?"

My voice came out low, like a secret forced out.

"Huh? Are you crazy?"

His face showed total shock.

With that surprised look, he didn't back off. On the contrary. He stepped close enough that I could feel the heat from his body.

"This is dangerous," he said, with a sly half-smile and eyes flicking to the door.

"I know, fuck it!"

I shot back without hesitation.

My hands were shaking, but my resolve wasn't. It was a choice I knew I couldn't take back, but in that moment, the weight of the consequences felt small compared to the urge to break the chains holding me down. When my boyfriend came back, everything looked normal—except for the excitement boiling inside me, and the tension crackling between us two.

The tension just kept building! Every little move he made felt like a tease: the way he held his glass, the discreet glances he threw my way, or the casual way he brushed against me. I was already consumed by this insane desire, but with every second, backing out seemed more impossible.

My boyfriend, the coward, not knowing how to handle seeing my threat come true right in front of him, grabbed his keys and said he needed to run to the store.

"Just a minute, I won't be long," he said, avoiding eye contact and sweating bullets as he scrambled for a quick escape, almost in a panic.

"You're staying right here—you're gonna learn from him how to treat a woman right. If you walk out that door, don't come back!"

I was the picture of rage facing two stunned men, cursing loud with words in clashing tones.

Speechless, the resigned guy sat in the corner of the room with a guilty look, and then it all came crashing down. The deafening silence made it feel like we were in a minefield, where the smallest mistake could be deadly.

"You shouldn't joke around like that," the friend said, his voice betraying the seriousness as he tried to figure out if this was some prank.

I laughed in response, not from nerves or amusement, but with a boldness I didn't even know I had. I walked over to him slowly, fearless, like each step was calculated to show off the full glory of my femininity.

"And who said I'm joking?"

I whispered, stopping close enough to feel his heavy breathing as I groped what he always bragged about being so big.

For a second, I thought he'd pull back. Maybe he'd think about the friend he saw as a brother, what this could cause, but I saw the exact moment he gave up fighting himself. His gaze hardened, his hands rose to my waist, and in one quick move, he pulled me to him.

The kiss was overwhelming, like we'd been holding it back forever. My head spun, not just from the intensity of the moment, but from the feeling of finally choosing for myself. He explored my body with confidence, like he was claiming something he'd never owned but was now getting freely.

There was no turning back! In that instant, not when the adrenaline mixed with desire took over everything. He pressed me against the wall, his ragged breath on my neck, his lips trailing over my skin like he was discovering forbidden territory.

My elbows slipped under the straps of my dress, baring my naked breasts. The room's air hardened my nipples, and a deep chill made me shiver. His face crashed into them hard, like a calf seeking its mother's udder. The pain and pleasure of his wet sucking made me open my mouth without thinking. It felt like his tongue was dancing on a stage with a little hot flame that vanished into the air, burning my soul and stirring desire.

I learned what real surrender felt like when his firm hands slid roughly over my curves, exploring every inch with the confidence of someone who'd imagined this a thousand times. My skin ignited at his touch, and my breathing grew heavy, broken by sighs I couldn't control. Under the dress, my panties were yanked off, and his hand invaded me in a rush.

My body reacted wildly to the first touch, a explosion of feelings and sensations knocked the strength out of me, he rubbed my pussy relentlessly, spreading wetness down my thighs. His fingers drove me into a frenzy, and my mouth let out a jumble of nonsense.

"You slut!"

"Repeat it!"

"You slut, you whore!"

"Make me your slut then!"

With one shove, I was thrown to the floor, on my knees before him like a slave put there to please her master, and in front of me, he, my tormentor, freed himself from his pants, revealing a magnificent cock that made me sweat just looking at it. Gripped by his brutal hand on my head, I opened my mouth to take what was mine. He thrust in, turning my lips into a wide-open pussy, that firm flesh taking over my mouth, only stopped by my throat. A stream of saliva poured from the choking, its taste mild and warm. In the violence of the act, I found myself endlessly passive and his.

His cursed hand slapped through the air, followed by a spit on my face—what should have humiliated me made me cry with joy, makeup running, crazy, I laughed, dirty and drooling, prostrated before him. The sting on my cheek brought a strange pleasure I'd never felt before. I was pushed down by the sole of his foot, kicked like a bitch.

"On all fours, woman!"

I was invaded in a way that caused deep pain by something hot that assaulted my pussy. I roared as my flesh was brutally filled, the texture clear, I could tell head from shaft. The ache in my womb screamed for me to get out of there right away, but I felt anchored, not understanding why I was waiting for more, and even if I tried, I'd already been tamed by him holding my hair.

The sound of our skin slapping was deafening, the impact shot up my spine and waves spread to the base of my neck, shaking my thoughts and messing with my mind. In screams I begged him to stop, pleaded for gentleness, tears poured from my eyes—But I was still smiling.

The room seemed to vanish around us. No guilt, no future, just the present—the heat of his cock, the muffled moans, the building rhythm that bound us in a way I'd never experienced. It was liberating and wicked at the same time, like we were defying not just limits, but the rules that had imprisoned me until then.

Then everything blurred and got confusing, the slapping sounds stopped when I felt a spurt inside me, everything got wet and the pleasure battered my soul, making me collapse spent and lost to my senses. My pounding stopped, and all that could be heard was heavy breathing and drops of sweat falling on my raised hips. Lying face down, something trickled down my legs—my dignity.

But reality didn't take long to knock—literally. The sound of the key in the lock snapped me out of the trance. The front door closed behind my boyfriend, who'd watched the whole thing in silence.

My head stayed on the carpet, and in peace, I waited for my heart to beat steady again. It was all over, and what had been uncomfortable now had meaning; empty as I was, I felt truly filled. He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but he didn't need to—it was all there, in the intense gleam of his eyes.