I strained to hear something, anything, trying to imagine Mrs. L on her knees like he told her, sucking his cock. I'd had a cock in my mouth before, I knew what it felt like, the insistent thrust, the tangy taste of precum. "Oh god, yes!" Her voice rose, grew closer somehow, and I arched toward the wall, my fingers buried in my wetness. "You like me bent over for you, baby? You like fucking me like a dog?"

The heat of her words made me want to hide my face in the pillow, but my fingers worked faster, harder under the covers.

"That's it, don't stop! Oh god, don't you fucking stop! You're gonna make me come all over that big, hard tool!"

Mrs. L was a slut. A naughty, dirty whore. She said so herself. "Fuck your little whore! Fuck her 'til she comes!"

I heard him groan, long and low, and that made me twist and buck on my little twin bed, hearing her finally lose her words, lost in her orgasm, just moaning with it now, over and over and over. My climax found theirs and I came, too, whimpering and shoving my hips up to meet the wet thrust of my own fingers, shuddering with pleasure as the sound of their coupling faded.

I always had a hard time looking them in the eye the day afterward. Of course, they didn't know I'd heard. And I never said anything. But they sure taught me a lot, late at night, after everyone else was asleep…

Confessions: Union Station

It's been over ten years ago, now, that my ex and I were separated, and I flew to Chicago to meet a cyber lover. Dan was a former DJ, charming, arrogant, cocky, and a staunch Republican. We were like gasoline and a match- the sparks flew. I was twenty-five, separated with two kids. He was thirty-something, a year out of a serious relationship with the "love of his life" and liked kids… the way some people like cats…