Lilia Greyrat stood alone in the quiet kitchen long after Mike had left, the taste of her own arousal still faintly lingering on her tongue from where she had cleaned his fingers.
The initial rush of heat between her thighs had faded, leaving only a cold, heavy guilt that settled deep in her chest like winter frost.
'How could I let that happen?'
The thought repeated in her mind like a prayer gone wrong.
Mike—the very man who had been secretly fucking Zenith, the man whose seed now grew inside her mistress—was the same man who had just fingered her to a shuddering orgasm right in the middle of the house.
She had stood there, legs trembling, letting his rough hand work inside her while her family laughed and chatted only rooms away.
And she hadn't stopped him.
Worse, she had come harder than she could remember in years.
Lilia pressed both hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat of shame burn her skin.
She was no better than him. No better than Zenith. She had already betrayed Paul once by sleeping with him and conceiving their would be child.
Now she was letting the same cycle continue in silence, letting Mike use her body while she watched him use Zenith's. The hypocrisy tasted bitter.
She told herself it would never happen again.
She was wrong.
Three days later, Mike returned.
He arrived in the early afternoon carrying nothing this time—no gifts, no excuses. Paul and Rudeus had gone to the river to play and have a son and father bonding.
Zenith was resting upstairs, the early weeks of pregnancy leaving her pleasantly sleepy.
The house was empty except for Lilia.
The moment the front door clicked shut behind him, Mike's demeanor changed.
There was no teasing grin, no casual brush of fingers. His dark eyes locked onto hers with calm, unmistakable intent.
"Lilia," he said quietly, voice low and rough. "Kitchen. Now."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words died when he simply turned and walked toward the kitchen without waiting.
Something in his tone—certain, unhurried—made her feet follow.
The moment they were alone behind the half-wall, Mike unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness.
He shoved his trousers down just enough for his thick, already-hard cock to spring free.
It stood heavy and veined, the broad head flushed dark and glistening at the tip.
Lilia stared, cheeks instantly burning. "Mike… what are you—"
"Suck it," he said simply. "You came on my fingers last time. It's only fair I get your mouth now."
Her breath caught. "That… that was a lapse of judgment," she whispered, voice trembling. "You shouldn't expect me to… to please you. I'm not like Zenith. I won't—"
Mike stepped closer, cock twitching between them.
"You could have stopped me any time," he said quietly. "You could have slapped my hand away. You could have told Paul. You could have screamed. But you didn't. Your body already knows what it wants, Lilia. Same as hers."
The words hit like a slap. Lilia's mind spun—guilt, shame, the memory of her own fingers frantically pumping while she watched him fuck Zenith against the bedroom door.
Her thighs pressed together instinctively, already growing slick again.
Mike waited. Patient. Unmoving. Cock throbbing in the air between them.
Lilia's gaze dropped to it once more. Thick. Heavy. So much bigger than Paul's.
Her hands shook as she slowly lowered herself to her knees on the kitchen floor.
She had almost no experience.
Her nights with Paul had been simple, straightforward—missionary, a few minutes of thrusting, then done.
She had never sucked a man before. Never even thought about it.
Her hands trembled as she reached up and wrapped both around his shaft. Her fingers barely met around the girth.
Mike's voice softened just a fraction. "That's it. Start slow. Use your tongue first."
Lilia hesitated, then leaned forward and gave the head a single, shy lick.
The taste—salty, musky, masculine—made her nose wrinkle slightly, but she didn't pull away.
She licked again, longer this time, dragging her flat tongue along the underside from base to tip in a slow, uncertain stroke.
Her movements were tentative, almost clinical at first, as though she were trying to map the shape of him with her tongue.
She traced the thick vein that ran along the bottom, then flicked the tip lightly over the slit where another bead of precum had gathered.
She swallowed reflexively, the salty tang coating her tongue.
"Good," Mike murmured. "Now the head. Wrap your lips around it and suck gently. Like you're tasting something sweet."
Lilia parted her lips and took just the crown into her mouth.
The stretch was immediate—her lips stretched thin around the flared head. She sucked softly, cheeks hollowing only slightly, tongue pressing flat and still against the underside while she tried to figure out the rhythm.
Her movements were awkward, hesitant, lacking the practiced grace she had seen Zenith use in stolen glimpses.
She bobbed shallowly, barely taking more than the head, saliva already pooling in her mouth and threatening to spill.
Mike's hand rested lightly on the back of her head, not pushing, just steadying. "Relax your jaw. Breathe through your nose. Take a little more… slow. Yes. Now swirl your tongue around the head—slow circles. That's it."
She tried to obey. Her tongue moved in clumsy, uneven circles around the sensitive crown, tracing the ridge where the head met the shaft.
She could feel him throb against her tongue, the heat of him filling her mouth.
When she took another inch, the head bumped the back of her mouth and her throat convulsed in a soft gag.
Her eyes watered instantly. She pulled back quickly, coughing lightly, a thick string of saliva stretching from her swollen lips to his glistening cock.
"I… I'm sorry," she whispered, voice small and embarrassed. "I've never… I don't know how to—"
"You're doing fine," Mike said, voice low and patient. "Everyone starts somewhere. Use your hand on the shaft—stroke what you can't fit. Twist your wrist a little on the upstroke. And keep sucking the head. Hard now. Hollow your cheeks."
Lilia nodded shakily.
She wrapped one small hand around the thick base and began stroking—slow, uncertain pumps, trying to match the rhythm she had seen Zenith use.
Her grip was too light at first, then too tight, then somewhere in between.
She took the head back into her mouth and sucked harder this time, cheeks hollowing noticeably, tongue pressing flat and swirling clumsily. Saliva poured freely now, dripping down her chin and onto the tops of her breasts where they strained against her uniform.
Mike groaned quietly. "Better. Now bob deeper—slow at first. Relax your throat when it hits the back. Breathe. Yes… fuck, just like that."
She tried again. Her head moved in short, awkward bobs—two inches, then three, then pulling back when her gag reflex kicked in.
Each time she went deeper she held for a second longer, throat fluttering around the head, eyes watering, cheeks flushed with effort and humiliation. The wet, sloppy sounds grew louder: *slurp… gluck… schlurp*.
Saliva cascaded down his shaft, coating her hand, making every stroke slick and messy.
"Use your tongue more on the upstroke," Mike instructed gently. "Flick the slit. Suck the head like you're trying to pull the cum out. Hard. Yes… good girl."
Lilia followed every word with hesitant obedience.
She flicked her tongue over the slit on every upstroke, tasting the steady leak of precum.
She sucked the head harder, cheeks hollowing deeply, hand pumping the base in tight, twisting strokes.
Her rhythm was still clumsy—sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow, sometimes pausing awkwardly when she had to breathe—but she kept going, determined despite her inexperience.
Mike's breathing grew ragged. "I'm close. When I cum, swallow it. All of it. Don't spill."
Lilia's eyes widened but she didn't pull away.
She sucked harder, faster, inexperienced but eager now, desperate to finish what she had started.
Her head bobbed with more confidence, throat opening a little more each time, gagging softly but pushing through.
With a low, strangled groan Mike came.
Thick, hot ropes flooded her mouth—salty, bitter, copious.
Lilia's eyes watered as the first powerful spurt hit the back of her throat.
She swallowed reflexively, throat working visibly, but some escaped the corners of her lips, dripping down her chin.
She kept sucking through every pulse, tongue still moving, milking him until the last drop.
When he finally softened she pulled off slowly, gasping, lips swollen and shiny, a thin trail of cum still connecting her mouth to his cock.
She wiped her chin with trembling fingers, breathing hard, eyes downcast in shame and lingering arousal.
Mike tucked himself away and helped her gently to her feet. "Not bad for your first time," he murmured. "We'll practice again soon."
Lilia stood trembling, unable to meet his eyes, the taste of him still heavy on her tongue.
She had done it.
She had sucked the cock of the man who had impregnated her mistress.
And deep down, in the quietest corner of her mind, she already knew she would do it again.