The next two weeks turned into a fever dream. Vera lived two lives. By day she was the quiet wife who smiled at dinner and answered emails. At night, or in stolen moments, she belonged to Marcus.
They f****d in his car in the underground parking garage after work. She rode him in the back seat, skirt around her waist, blouse open, t**s bouncing as she slammed down on his thick c**k. The windows fogged up while she moaned into his neck, coming so hard her juices soaked his pants.
They risked it in the stairwell of her own apartment building one evening. Her husband was upstairs watching TV. Marcus had her pressed against the cold concrete wall, one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet while he f****d her from behind, fast and dirty. She came biting his fingers, p***y pulsing around him a
