Stiles slipped quietly into the house, heart still racing, her thighs sticky under her dress from the mess Derek left in her. She hurried to the bathroom, scrubbing her skin under hot water, but no matter how much she washed, she could still feel him—the sting of his slaps on her ass, the ache in her nipples, the soreness between her thighs.

By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she’d forced her expression into something calm. She changed into one of her husband’s favorite house dresses—tiny, clinging, cut low in the front so her breasts nearly spilled out, hem riding high on her thighs. She told herself it was innocent—just to make him happy. But deep inside, she knew it was because she was still throbbing, still burning.

When Scott came home that evening, she was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, humming softly. The sizzling pan filled the room with aroma, and she swayed her hips as she stirred, the short dress lifting higher over her ass.

“Baby,” Scott’s voice came from behind, warm and familiar. He kissed her cheek, then leaned against the counter, sighing. “You won’t believe what I saw today at work.”

Stiles’s heart jolted. Her hand froze on the spoon. “Oh? What happened?” she asked, forcing a smile, though her pulse thundered in her ears.

He shook his head. “Filthy people… I went to see the CEO with some documents. He had… a woman. Naked. In his lap. In his own office!”

Stiles’s knees nearly gave out. Her pussy clenched so hard she nearly dropped the spoon.

Scott frowned, disgust clear in his voice. “She was riding him right there, like some shameless whore. Can you imagine? A married man could never imagine doing something so dirty in the office. These people have no shame.”

Stiles’s throat went dry. She could still feel Derek’s cock stretching her as Scott spoke. Her clit throbbed. Her body betrayed her—every word her husband spoke made her wetter, hotter, needier.

She tried to act shocked. “Really? That’s… that’s terrible.”

Scott nodded firmly. “Terrible. I even thought, poor woman’s husband, if she has one. She’s probably sneaking behind his back. Women like that ruin their homes.”

His words stabbed into her chest like knives—yet at the same time, her pussy clenched again, harder. Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her dress. She turned back to the stove so he wouldn’t see her blush.

“Anyway,” he continued, grabbing a glass of water, “you’re not like that. You’re good. Loyal. That’s why I’m so lucky to have you.”

Her legs trembled. She bit her lip, pretending to focus on the pan, but her mind screamed: If only you knew. If only you saw how I rode him right in front of you.

The heat between her thighs was unbearable. Each word from her husband only made her wetter. She squeezed her legs together, but it did nothing—her pussy pulsed, dripping against her panties.

Scott walked behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You look so pretty cooking like this,” he murmured, kissing her neck.

Stiles gasped, almost dropping the spatula. Her pussy clenched violently at the sudden contact. “S-Scott…”

He chuckled softly. “See? A good wife in a tiny dress, cooking for me. That’s all I need.” His hands slid down her waist, over her hips, brushing the edge of her dress.

Stiles shuddered, breath shaky. She wanted to moan, wanted to beg him to touch her more—but it wasn’t his cock her body craved. It was Derek’s.

Her husband pressed against her, hardening. “After dinner…,” he whispered.

Stiles forced a smile, turning to kiss his cheek. “Of course, darling.” But her mind replayed the office—her own moans, her husband’s voice in the room while she bounced on Derek’s lap. Her pussy clenched, wetness soaking through her panties.

She stirred the food with trembling hands, thinking: I’m his good wife here… but deep down, I’m Derek’s slut forever.