It’s a beautiful picture. I can’t show it to you, so you’ll have to trust me. Why do I think it’s beautiful? She looks so peaceful, so carefree, so sated, so glowing…so sexy.

Juliette had her second date with Beckett this past weekend. It was Labor Day in the US, the holiday that marks the end of summer. The weather was warm and dry for us, though Hurricane Hermine had landed down south. The long holiday weekend had finally given Beckett the time to entertain Juliette, after many near misses. As she got ready to go that morning, I kept finding myself wanting to caress her, to help her dress, even to take her once more before she left. But I thought better of that last one; this isn’t a competition, it’s a celebration: a celebration of her, and I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone.

Still, she smelled so good, and hummed a happy tune as she dressed. She put up her hair in a tight bun and sprayed it, freshly showered, smelling of vanilla and musk. She seemed at ease, humming softly as she packed her bag with lube and dildo and vibrator. They had been chatting more frequently, and it seemed that this time would be less awkward, more at ease and sensual. As we both walked out to our cars, I couldn’t keep my hands off her, but I tried to keep it soft, not pawing lustily, but caressing her arm or holding her hand as I sent her off to another man.

“Thanks for being so hot,” I told her, then kissed her and closed her door.

-

“You know, it might be a while this time,” she had said to me the day before. “Not a problem,” I replied. “Just have fun, and text me when you can.”

But now it was getting later and later, and I still hadn’t heard, or more importantly, seen anything. She had left before 9 that morning, and I was working all day, so at least I was occupied. But now it was after 4, and my phone still hadn’t rung. The anticipation is part of the thrill for me, but this was getting excruciating. They couldn’t possibly still be going, could they? Were they at it a second time? Third? More? Jesus, she wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone drive home, if that were the case!

But oh, would that be sweet, to get her back, well fucked, exhausted, satisfied. I would love to carry her to our bed and take care of her. Undress her, smell her sweat and scent, lay her down, massage her, hold her as she drifted off to sleep. Who knew if that’s what would happen? It was 5:30 now, and still nothing.

I busied myself as best I could while my mind raced. What was going on? I didn’t want to be needy, or ruin their mood, but I was getting restless. Should I text? No, I’m sure everything’s fine. But what if it wasn’t? Why hadn’t I heard anything yet? “Relax,” I told myself. “She said it might be all day.” Okay, okay…

It was right about then that my phone buzzed in my pocket. Finally, I’d know something! I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was Juliette, all right. Opening the text app, I saw it immediately – her face filling most of the screen. Her eyes were hooded slightly, with a serene, peaceful look. Her hair was tousled, with a wild, just-had-sex messiness that has made many a Hollywood starlet famous. Her rosy lips were pursed in a slight sexy smile. She had been well treated this time, that’s for sure.

But there was more. Looking more closely at the photo, it became immediately apparent that she had not been the one to take the picture. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and she was lying belly-down across the messy sheets, face toward the camera. The shot was taken from the same level as she was lying, but at an angle that made it impossible for her to have taken. Then I noticed, stretched alongside her in the sheets, his leg, his calf and foot protruding from beneath the covers down the length of the bed. This was the first real evidence that she was with another man. She had taken the pictures the previous time, with no sign of Beckett in the frame. This time, though, there he was, taking the picture of my naked love beside him, her afterglow the proof of his virility. Then, I read the second text.

When it first came in, I hadn’t noticed it, as I was too busy marveling at the photo. But when I read it, I got suddenly harder than I now noticed I had been while studying the picture. “You have to zoom in on the lips and chin. See you in about an hour.” Staring at the image on the tiny screen of my phone, I had missed the best part entirely! Glistening on her bottom lip and coating her chin was a sheen of slick, shiny cum. And hanging just on the corner of her mouth, a tiny drop clung, ready to run down at any moment. This moment made the wait worth it. The white-hot ardor washed over me, and I couldn’t wait for her to get home. I was so horny, I had to take care of it, the sooner the better. But then I thought – What if she gets here, unshowered, ready to go again? That would be the greatest! So I waited…

As I’m sure you’ll understand, Juliette feels we can’t share this picture, as her job is very important to her, and this sort of thing wouldn’t go over well at the office. But the rest of the story gets better, and I can’t wait to tell it. But you’ll have to wait, just like I did.