SARAH

I lay on my back in our king-sized bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin at first but now sticky with sweat. Alex, my husband of four years, was above me, thrusting in that mechanical way he always did—quick, shallow pumps that barely registered. I was wet, like always; my body responded the second he kissed me, slick heat building between my folds until I was dripping onto the mattress. But he never took his time, never explored, just chased his own finish.

He grunted once, twice, then pulled out, spilling his cum across my stomach in hot, thin ropes. He rolled off me with a sigh, grabbing...