One Night in Philadelphia

Well, Drew wasn't the only sweaty one; my whole body was hot, and I know there was a sheen of perspiration on me. Coming down from my orgasmic high, I thought that he'd really have liked seeing that, if there had been more light in the room.

That was when I heard it. "I love you, Amanda." We'd been cuddled up, but with that, I pushed him away.

"No, you don't, you can't and you don't mean it. We fucked, a great fuck sure enough, but that's all it was. I don't love you, I love my husband, and this will never be any more than it is. It was just sex, just some fun on the side, that's all, that's it, and we're done."

With that, I got out of bed, walked to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and peed. I grabbed a big wad of toilet paper to clean myself up, as best I could.

I walked back into the bedroom and started getting dressed. My cotton thong might not be the best thing to keep Drew's cum from leaking down my legs, but they were all I had, and I damned sure wasn't going to leave them here as some sort of souvenir for him. My bra, then my blouse, then my pants and my heels, all with Drew looking like a cross between a solid man and a forlorn putty, naked in his bed, with the sheet pulled over him. I was only a couple of blocks from the SEPTA 34th Street station, so I said, "Bye," as I walked out the door and closed it behind me. It'd take a transfer, but I'd be at the Federal Street station soon enough, a few blocks from home.

I wasn't feeling terribly guilty. There was more guilt in me earlier, when I was riding Drew, but that "I love you" shit had washed that right out of me. I knew that my pussy was red and swollen and sore, but by Saturday night she'd be completely recovered and fine. Mickey was the one I loved, and he was the one I would make love with this weekend. Everything was going to be just fine.