The room was dark, hot and humid. It was immaculately clean except for the set of women's clothes pooled on the floor and the dishevelled bed.
The bed grew more dishevelled by the second as the nude female form, splashed in moonlight from the window, thrashed on the bed. Her breath came in sharp, short gasps. With each hitch of her chest, her petite breasts would give a little jiggle, just enough for the sensation to add to the waves of pleasure coming from her clit and pussy.
Her hands were busy between her legs, one feverishly rubbing at her clitoris, the other had three fingers, knuckle-deep shoved up her weeping cooch. She'd long ago soaked the sheets beneath her with sweat and vaginal secretions. The smell of her musk hung heavy in the air, heady and strong, almost overpowering. Each breath brought the scent to her nostrils and the memories it invoked made her moan.
Her mind was a whirlwind. Anger, lust, fear, humiliation all warred inside her head. She couldn't control these feelings, unable to find purchase on them, unable to GRIP them. She was at their mercies like a gang of abusive lovers.
'Where is he?' she thought through the haze.
He had promised he'd be home hours ago. "Home in time for dinner," he'd said, brushing aside a rebellious curl of hair from his head, in a gesture as habitual as it was endearing to her. "Just some half-assed training meeting."
She'd nodded and wished him a happy day, even though she knew the truth. He was a terrible liar.
'He's with that SLUT!' she screamed inwardly, but no words came from her mouth. Instead, she let loose a sound halfway btween a wailing sob and a furious roar. Her probing, rubbing fingers hit her sweetspot from both the in- and outside right at that moment and for a brief instant she felt like she was falling.
Her orgasm hit her with enough force to clamp her jaw shut. She arched her back, pressing her weight excruciatingly into her wings. Beneath her upraised ass, her tail lashed back and forth, the retractable barb at the tip flicking in and out like a snake tongue.
She collapsed, her muscles twitching, the aftershocks of her orgasm hitting her again and again.
And so Marini Gilbert, wife of Caleb Gilbert, daughter of the Manticore Nation, dozed in the afterglow of her orgasm until drifting off to sleep.
When she woke hours later, the sky was just beginning to turn a rosy pink. She sat up, scratched an itch at her side, then cursed the open window. She pawed at the control panel before finally finding the button to lower the blinds.
She picked up one of the soaked sheets she had lain on and sniffled. The sour smell made her nose wrinkle. She swung her legs out and down to the floor, but fell backwards when she tried to stand up. Sleep-drunk her husband called it; Marini called it too early in the day.
With bleary eyes and a sleep-muddled brain she stumbled her way to the bathroom. The cold tile and harsh light woke her up as much as a solid slap in the face. She was washing her hands when the front door opened.
Trembling, and with a lump in her throat, she went back into the bedroom. There was Caleb, dark hair ruffled, locks and curls thrown every which way. He always managed to look like he'd just woken up unless he took great care to keep his unruly hair under control.
"You're late," she said, trying to sound angry. She couldn't be sure, but she didn't think it worked.
He turned just his head to looked at her. His blue, human eyes smiled a trickster's grin.
"Long night," he said, louding the words with meaning. Images began to dance in Marini's mind; of him and this office slut of his, naked and entertwined.
Her mouth was suddenly very dry.
Caleb, already having shucked his button-up, reached beneath the hem of his undershirt. Marini, with a murmered "Let me," hurried over to help him. She stepped up behind him, pulling the shirt over his head. Once it was off, she wrapped her arms around his muscled chest and leaned against him. In an old familiar gesture, her head came to rest on his broad back.
He smelled... She couldn't describe it. Powerful and masculine. But below that was a scent, a musk that was wholly feminine and wholly foreign to her. Between her legs, she felt a warm tingle begin to grow.
She blushed at her body's reaction, and curled her wings over her head.
Caleb heard his wife murmur something into his shoulder. "What? Didn't catch that."
Marini grumbled weakly, then unfurled her wings and lifted her head. "I asked,"she said before trailing off.
Caleb half broke from her embrace, turning to face Marini. Holding her hand in his, he said "What did you ask?"
Marini, already wearing a pretty pink blush on her dark skin, shuffled her feet lamely and stared at the floor.
