I came for the first time reading The World According to Garp

We pulled up to our house. Everyone said goodnight. My wife reached for my hand as we walked to the door, laced her fingers through mine, and didn’t say a word.
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She didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, holding me inside her. Her hair clung to her face. She gave a soft laugh, a kiss, and then slid off, fixing her skirt.

She rejoined the conversation like nothing happened.

She dropped her head to my shoulder. I felt her tighten. Then she came. Hard. Hips grinding, breath catching. And that was it for me. I grunted once, tried to hold her in place, and then I was pulsing inside her, wave after wave.

When the car turned off the freeway, she started to fuck harder. Faster. Her breath caught. Her thighs started shaking.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered. “I’ve needed this for so long.”

She didn’t say anything about her husband. Or my wife. She didn’t act like it was a secret. She just moved, up and down, steady, like this was what her body had been waiting for. I held her ass in both hands, fingers digging into the soft curve, trying not to lose it.

She gasped. Eyes wide, locked on mine. Her pussy gripped me like a fist. She rolled her hips, slow and deep, grinding down into my lap with quiet, shaking breaths.

She slid her pussy against me slowly, letting my cock run through her folds. I could feel the mess. She kissed me then, wet, hungry. Her tongue filled my mouth. Her hips shifted, and suddenly I was inside her.

Then she pulled off, gasping a little. She turned, pulled her panties down from under her skirt. I saw her bare ass rise, barely a foot from the back of the driver’s headrest. She climbed back into my lap, straddling, hot and dripping.

I was frozen. Rock hard, mouth dry, heart pounding. But she was relentless. One hand on my balls, the other steadying herself against the seat. The suction was steady, wet, and somehow silent enough that I almost convinced myself no one could hear.

She knelt between my legs. No teasing. No warmup. She took my cock all the way into her mouth, fast. Her throat caught it and she gagged, quietly. Then again. Wet. Hot. Her head bobbed slowly while the front seat filled with polite conversation and classic rock.

She undid my fly. My cock popped out, hard as I’ve ever been. She didn’t stroke it. Just pressed her thumb into the underside and looked into my eyes.

“Take the long way home, Darryl,” she said.

And Darryl, from the front seat, said, “Yeah, maybe we’ll take a little drive.”

She started to grind her hips over me, the cotton of her panties slick already. She grabbed my hand, pushed it between her legs, right into the soaked fabric. I could feel everything through it, heat, softness, the swell of her clit, the hair under the thin material.

Marcy climbed halfway into my lap. Her breath was in my mouth. Her lips brushing mine. Her skirt was bunched up at her waist. My hands fell to her legs without even thinking. Smooth skin.

Her fingers brushed the inside of my thigh. Then my balls. I froze. My heart was hammering. She was staring at me like we were the only two people on earth.

In the front, our spouses were chatting like nothing was happening. He had to see this in the mirror. There was no way not to.

I laughed it off, but her hand was already under my arm, slipping toward my leg. She shifted her hips, leaned in closer.

“I see how you look at my ass,” she whispered. “I like it. I think about it when I walk in front of you. When I bend over in the church kitchen.”

We hadn’t even pulled out of the lot when she slid over next to me. Close. Warm. Her thigh against mine. She leaned in, her voice low and unsteady, breath hitting my neck.

“Do you know how much I love you?”