After

 

I woke up to the sound of heels on hard floor, was confused. I don't know what time I fell asleep, three, maybe four, waiting for her, now it was light out and I was disoriented.

"What...what time is it?" I asked her.

"Nine," my wife said, leaning against the wall. "Walk of shame territory."

I looked at her in her tiny top; her short, tight shorts; and her heels. What seemed skimpy in the dark of evening was probably scandalous in the morning. Had anyone seen her come in? "You...you walked home like that?"

"He walked me home," she said, "I was safe."

"He...he was here?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I brought you breakfast," she said, "fresh."

I rubbed my eyes, felt myself stiffen. "F...fresh? How...how fresh?"

She nodded. "Five minutes ago in the foyer before he left," she said. 

My eyes went wide. "He...you...here?"

She smiled. "Fresh," she said. 

"M...may I?" I asked.

She shook her head no. "After."

"After?"

"After."

"After what?" I asked.

"After you touch yourself," she said.

"Addison," I moaned, "please." I hated when she did this, when she made me do this. Touch myself, pleasure myself, cum, then and only then could I lick her, only when my own libido was smashed.

"After," she said again. 

"I...I like it more before," I said.

She smiled. "And I like it more after," she said.

"W...why?"

"Because you don't," she said.