Delivery of Euphoria

My husband, Charles Green, was a quick finisher, leaving me in a state of unfulfilled marriage since our wedding.

Until one day, my best friend arranged a special "delivery" for me, and the delivery guy turned out to be a well-endowed French guy.

Later, Charles finally regained his libido, surprisingly because of a video of me and the French delivery guy.

......

My name was Cathy Green, and I was a newlywed.

Everyone saw Charles as a tall, handsome, and successful gentleman-a perfect husband. But only I knew the disadvantage beneath this perfect facade.

Deep down, I was a conservative woman who couldn't accept premarital sex. Thankfully, Charles respected that before we got married. However, on our wedding night, this tall and vigorous man turned out to be a quick finisher, shattering all my romantic fantasies about love.

At the prime of my life, I hadn't tested the waters before marriage, but now he only ignited the fire without putting it out, leaving me in a constant state of frustration and depression.

Until today, according to what Charles said, a friends of his was coming over for a visit. He asked me to prepare.

I had moved to Charles's city that I was not familiar with, and had few friends here. To leave a good impression, I took extra care in dressing up.

As I was tidying up, the doorbell rang.

Opening the door, I was surprised to see our high school classmate, Lilliana Simpson.

Back in school, she was quite the celebrity-outgoing and passionate, living in the moment with a string of boyfriends. I heard she became a flight attendant and never lacked male company.

I used to look down on her for being so lusty, but now I envied her. At least she didn't live in a state of unfulfilled marriage like me, feeling utterly frustrated.

"Long time no see, how have you been?" Lilliana greeted me with a bright smile.

She seemed even more beautiful, glowing as if time had been kind to her, unlike me, whose skin had dulled since marriage, with makeup barely masking my fatigue.

Just as I was about to respond, a towering figure appeared behind Lilliana, startling me into taking a few steps back.

"Cathy, you're still so easily scared, haha..."

Lilliana laughed. "Bonjour," said the tall man. Hearing that, I realized that it was a French guy!

He must have been over six feet tall, with a powerful build.

The petite Lilliana standing beside him presented a sharp contrast in height, which was so striking that just this visual impact made my whole body burn with a strange impulse.

Noticing their intimate demeanor, I tentatively asked, "Is he... your boyfriend?"

Lilliana looked at the French guy and replied, "Sort of."

As they exchanged glances, the French guy couldn't wait a second longer and pulled Lilliana into a kiss.

Are all Frenchmen this straightforward?

I stood awkwardly on the side, unsure of what to do, watching the scene unfold.

The French guy's large hand pressed against Lilliana's back, as if trying to engulf her, and the changes in his lower part were impossible to ignore.

Lilliana closed her eyes, lost in the moment, occasionally making soft, pleasurable sounds.

My face flushed with embarrassment.

Seeing the French guy's hand about to slip under Lilliana's clothes, I had to interrupt them with a cough, "Ahem." If not, I worried they'd give me a live show right there in the hallway.

I invited them into the living room, fulfilling my hostess duties by making tea.

Lilliana, being a flight attendant, had a great command of French. As she was chatting fluently with his boyfriend, I listened to their conversation, not understanding a word.

But I could feel him stealing glances at me, his gaze filled with mischief.

Perhaps it was the long-suppressed hormones, but feeling his eyes on me, I couldn't help but feel a thrill, unconsciously adjusting my hair to reveal my neck.

Realizing what I was doing, I was struck by a strong sense of moral guilt. I had been married-I couldn't betray Charles.

Torn between my marital vows and the unexpected thrill of attention, Lilliana suddenly received a call and said she had to leave for something urgent.

Before I could persuade her to stay, she hurried out, leaving me alone with her boyfriend in the living room.

The atmosphere was awkward until the French guy spoke first, "Hello, I'm Maurice. Nice to meet you."

I looked up in surprise, "You speak English?" "I've been in the U.S for three years," Maurice chuckled.

"I've been living in U.S for three years," he then added, "You're really gorgeous."

His sudden compliment left me flustered, unsure of what to respond.

"It's hot," Maurice suddenly muttered.

I was about to suggest turning on the air conditioning when I heard the rustle of fabric.

Looking up, Maurice had already taken off his shirt, revealing his bare upper body.

His well-defined muscles were mesmerizing, and the air was thick with a masculine scent that made my face burn.

I forced myself not to look, but Maurice sat down right next to me!

He was so close, and I could feel the heat from his body.

Soon, I was sweating too, feeling restless.

But Maurice added fuel to the fire.

He leaned in, his lips almost touching my chin, pointing at my collarbone, "You have a mole here, it's really sexy."

The warmth of his breath on my sensitive neck made my mind go blank, my body tingling as if ants were crawling all over me.

Before I could regain my senses, Maurice tugged at his pants, revealing his abdomen, "I have a mole here too. We have a saying in French, c'est la vie. Do you think life want us to be here alone now?"

My mole was on my collarbone, his on his abdomen, he took my hand and placed it on his mole.

My slender hand stood out against his firm muscles, and the novel sensation made me reluctant to pull away.