I'll Cheat if I Want To by Max Sebastian

I'll Cheat if I Want To by Max Sebastian

Author:Max Sebastian [Sebastian, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MS Publishing
Published: 2019-11-30T23:00:00+00:00


Six

There she is, standing in her nightshirt, hand on hip, her expression confused and vaguely horrified, though she’s still a little sleepy, still a little drunk. I’m so embarrassed, I can’t move. The deer frozen in the headlights—the most dangerous thing I could do would be to just stay still, and yet the fear and humiliation gives rise to indecision, and suddenly my body tenses up and can’t figure out which way to go.

‘Are those my panties?’ she asks, starting out all self-righteous, indignant.

Well, I am violating her privacy.

‘What are you doing?’ She grabs them from me. She looks down at my hard cock, and I see one of her eyebrows rise up. She’s intrigued. Curious.

I sheepishly pull my boxer shorts up, pointlessly concealing my erection, feeling the heat of shame in my cheeks. I don’t really know what to say.

‘You were using my panties?’ she says, realizing that she didn’t really need to ask what I was up to. She’s a little amused, and quite obviously surprised, as though she’d thought I didn’t have sexual desires anymore.

‘How long has this been going on?’ she asks, her voice surprisingly calm, level. I can’t tell if she’s angry, or disgusted, or simply tickled by my secret.

‘I don’t know…’

‘You never seem like you want to... you know… with me anymore…’ she says, toying with the panties, stretching them, twisting them, vaguely appalled at what state they’re in after her evening with Noah, and that I would find sexual pleasure with them. ‘But you like jerking off into my panties?’

I shrug.

God, my erection just won’t go down. It probably doesn’t help that she’s standing over me so that I can look up her nightshirt, I can see her plain white panties. And I can still smell that scent of sex from her old panties.

‘What do you think about when you do it?’ she asks, smiling so I think she must be mostly amused at my perversion, rather than particularly angry.

‘You,’ I say, a little hoarse. Then, because I don’t want her to laugh at me, that’s the very worst thing that could happen, even worse than her being livid at my depravity, I throw the spotlight back onto her, adding: ‘You… and him.’

She catches her breath at that, genuinely shocked, and all the energy drains from her face.

‘Are you angry with me?’ she says, and I guess I’m as hard to read as she is, because she’s probably expecting me to be mad at her for being unfaithful, and I don’t seem to be mad at all.

‘No,’ I say, quietly.

‘Why?’

‘Because I love you.’

That seems to knock her off-guard for a moment. Her face seems to melt into gentle affection, as though someone just showed her a picture of a really cute kitten snuggling up to an adorable puppy.

‘How did you find out?’ she asks, as though she’s only interested to know where she went wrong in covering up the crime. Like I’m Poirot, and I’ve told the assembled suspects that she is the



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