When they first met, he had no idea what to expect. He liked her, but he was married and obviously he couldn’t do anything. Besides, he was about to have a kid.

Six months later, he still liked the girl, and still wanted to fuck her six ways to Sunday. She was leading him on, wearing the low cut tops, showing her cleavage off in all the wrong ways.

“I can’t,” she said, the night he made the proposition to her. “I’m dating someone.”

That’s the way it was for a couple more months. He’d see her at work, she’d shove her tits in his face, but deny him the honor of screwing her like a lightbulb.

When he got the phone call from her, he was surprised as all Hell. “We broke up,” she told him. “He was being a jerk and I was sick of his junior high school games.”

It wasn’t a half hour after he got off work that they were at the hotel just outside of town, having all kinds of sex. Oral, anal, and everything else was on his menu for the night, and he made sure he had a taste of everything. Of course, she was more than willing to oblige, considering he was getting a divorce from his wife.

At least, that’s what he’d been telling her for the past six months. Anything to get a piece of her ass, and finally he was tapping her like a keg at a frat house. Four hours had passed and he was still working her over. “Best sex ever,” were words she used to describe that night, over and over again until she passed out.

It was 9 in the morning when he finally went home. Exhausted beyond belief, he stumbled in the kitchen where his wife was waiting, breakfast on the table.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped.

She looked at him with a scornful eye. “How many times do I have to tell you — ”

“I know,” he explained. “I’m sorry, it’ll never happen again. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me?”

Her death stare melted away. “It’s okay,” she said. “I figured you were working a double shift last night.”

And he sat down and had breakfast with his wife.