"Clint... CLINT!" I yelped, secretly enjoying the warmth of his body, the touch of his hands on my ass.

"What are you...? How... how do you know?" I gasped, feeling his hips pressing into mine, the heated outline of his pulsating cock brushing over my moistening pussy.

"The past few months, even years, it's been obvious, only a fool like your husband wouldn't be able to read you... to see your true thoughts written so clearly upon your face, your body" He growled.

"That's... that's your best friend you're insulting," I hissed, wiggling my ass in his hands, acting as if I was trying to fight off his advances, yet at the same time enjoying every second.

"Perhaps some time ago he was, but not... not anymore." Clint gasped, placing a small kiss on my forehead; I could feel the tip of his tongue against my flesh. "For how... how could I be friends with someone that treats his lover with such ill respect?" he asked.

"Ill respect?" I yelped.

"Yes," Clint hissed, his eyes meeting mine, our eyes locking on to each other's as his warm, soft breath passed over my face.

"If I had to choose him over you, I would easily choose a chance, a moment of love and pleasure with you than forever with him." Clint hissed. "You're very beautiful, Erica. Even now as stand before me, you're still as hot, as breathtaking as you were when we were all teenagers."

"Fuck," I blushed, rolling my eyes a little bit. I have never been any good at taking compliments, especially not after hearing any for almost ten years. Damn, I was amazed as to how those simple words could move me so, could heat me up so fast. Stir up my insides so quickly.

"You're absolutely fucking hot," Clint, hissed again, this time his voice darker, more animalistic than before. "How could any man use you and then ignore you?" he sighed, "how can Ryan call himself a man without fulfilling his duties as a husband in pleasuring his wife?"

"Now Erica," Clint hissed letting go of me, his hands slowly falling away from my ass, as he slowly backed away. "I know that though you two have sex at least three times a week it's become more of a task than a pleasure for you." Clint sighed. "That you haven't had a good fuck, a good man inside you for so long." He added.

"Clint... that none, none of your business, how do you now" I hissed. Wondering how he knew, how he could read me so well, how he knew that I had not felt like a real, desired woman for the past several years.

"Ryan likes to brag about his alleged conquests," Clint fired back, "But I know better," he added.

"Now Erica, take off your top. Will you do that for me?" Clint asked unexpectedly. "Let me, a man that desires to pleasure you watch as you take off your top," he growled, his eyes roaming up and down my body, taking in the full sight of my treats, making me feel ever erotic, ever desired for the first time in so long.

"Let me see that hot, sexy, female you've been afraid to show for so long," Clint sighed. His eyes locked onto mine as I lost the ability to speak, the ability to think, only to find myself nodding to his request. His eyes traveling down my breasts, as I slowly pulled my t-shirt up over my head, revealing the black-laced, and see through bra underneath.

"Mmmm," Clint moaned, my fingers trembling as I pulled the last of my shirt over my head, dropping it on the floor alongside me. "How exquisite, so round and firm, so supple and flourishing," he hissed, licking his lips with the tip of his tongue as he continued to gaze down at my breasts. "They look as they long to be touched, fondled, licked and devoured."

Do it Clint please, I wanted to cry out-there was nothing I wanted more at that moment than his hands on me, ripping off my bra and doing what I'd wanted him to do since the second he told me how beautiful I was.

"Now the sweatpants," Clint said his voice firm and controlling.

My fingers fumbled with the elastic ties as I worked my sweatpants down around my hips, letting them glide slowly down my thighs, falling around my ankles.

"Get on your knees."

"What?" I asked, not really sure what was going on.

"Get on your knees." Clint hissed again, this time more demanding, more masterful, so much so that his voice echoed through me. I could feel my body breaking; giving in, my knees buckling as I fell to the floor, standing on them, and looking up into the eyes of the man that had some odd, mystical control over my thoughts.

"Now tell me Erica, what do you want?" he asked as he sat down in a dining room chair in front of me.