Page 60 of Twisted Temptation

I get up and begin to pace. But somehow, I end up at the wall that separates our rooms. I rest my forehead against it. She’s right on the other side, touching her sweet pussy, and it is pure torture.

Move away.

But another moan stops me, this one so much closer. I press my palm against the wall as if I can reach out and touch her.

Don’t do this.

With my other hand, I push my underwear down, and my cock springs free, thick and hard enough to hurt.

Don’t.

I wrap my hand around the base and start to stroke.

I close my eyes, and I see her. On the other side of the wall, her back arched, her lips parted in a moan, her hand beneath her panties.

I keep stroking. Harder. Tighter.

Tension builds, and my hips begin to move. Precum pools at the tip, and I drag it up and down my length as I stroke.

All I can think about is her. Six inches away, touching herself as I touch myself.

My palm moves faster over my cock, and my breath quickens.

Then her cry comes through the wall, tearing through me. I come hard with a full-body shudder, my cum spilling over my fist as I disappear under waves of rolling pleasure.

Closing my eyes, I tremble through the aftershocks and the waning pleasure, telling myself this was a one-time thing. My body needed the release, and it’s only natural I’d think about the gorgeous woman wearing tiny panties I just saw in my kitchen.

But I don’t move. I keep my forehead on the wall as my breathing slowly returns to normal. Reality sinks in. She’s a mere six inches away, but it might as well be six miles because this means nothing. Our marriage means nothing.

In the bathroom, I wash my hands, then look at my reflection in the mirror, trying to take stock of the situation.

Jerking off to my wife touching herself is not an admission of anything. She is my wife in name only.

And that won’t change.

29

SUNNY

Iwake up to an empty penthouse again.

After pulling on a robe, I pad along the marble floor to the kitchen, where I start making coffee, and that's when I see it.

A phone sitting on the kitchen counter.

A small white card sits behind it. I pick up the card.

There is no signature or message. Just a pin number.

PIN: 0712

The phone is the latest model iPhone. Picking it up, I press the power button and enter the PIN.

The home screen is clean. Default wallpaper. No apps except the basics, and in contacts there are only four entries.

Dante.

Charles.