Stories in blow job
334 stories · Page 6It was in Crimea, during that velvet season, when the main crowd of tourists had already left, but the water still retained its summer warmth. A group of five of us, all third-year students, rented a house a couple hundred meters from the beach. The goal was simple: to unwind, sunbathe, and forget about the exams looming on the horizon. I packed a bunch of revealing swimsuits—I wanted to feel like a goddess. Or at least a very confident bitch. The atmosphere was relaxed and casual. We drank cheap wine, grilled shashlik, and chatted until the early hours. And just then, I received a message from Dmitry. We knew each other from university—he taught paid group functional training classes in the building next door. Muscular, lean, with a piercing gaze. He was in his thirties, and he exuded that mature, slightly dangerous confidence that our peers so desperately lacked. It turned out he was also here, working as a trainer for the off-site "Fitness Detox" program at a nearby hotel
It was one of those night shifts that starts out like any other. A hospital after midnight is a world unto itself. Silence punctuated by the beeping of machines, dim light in the hallways, and a feeling as if the rest of the city had died out. I, Sveta, had been working here as a nurse for five years. I knew every corner, every creaking linoleum. That evening, there was a corporate party celebrating some anniversary of the head physician. A modest drinking session in the staff room on the second floor. Champagne, cognac, cheap snacks. I sipped a little, then another, the tension of the shift slowly dissolving in a light, pleasant alcoholic haze. I wasn't completely drunk, but rather warmed up. My body felt light, my cheeks were flushed, and playful, warm shivers ran through me. I threw my white robe over the short black dress I'd worn underneath—I planned to pop into a club after my shift. The robe came unbuttoned, revealing my cleavage and the slightly trembling, firm breas
I want to share a story that happened to me several years ago. I was dating a guy at the time, his name was Alexander. We were together for about a month, but during that time we weren't intimate because we were constantly surrounded by his friends. One day, Sasha went away on a work trip for a whole week. The next day, two of his friends came over and suggested we go for a walk along the river. I was hesitant, not really wanting to go, but they insisted, and I agreed. As the evening wore on, the embankment became less crowded. The beer I'd had relaxed me a bit, and I stopped worrying. My friends seemed friendly and sociable, and I didn't feel threatened by them. Everything was going fine until the beer ran out and one of the guys went to the store. I was left alone with Denis—that was the name of the other guy. He suggested we walk a little further. At first, I refused, but he was persistent, and we went. He took my hand and led me down a narrow path toward a deserted a
We were traveling home on the overnight train after a week at the seaside. Four people in the compartment: me, my wife Marina, her mother Galina Ivanovna, and my wife's younger sister, Katya. That same Katya, who had been sunbathing in a micro-bikini on the beach this whole time, laughed too loudly next to me and seemed to accidentally brush my back as she passed. Twenty-three years old, a seven-year age difference with Marina, and as if from another universe: uninhibited, with a daring gaze and a constant half-smile. The compartment smelled of old wood. We'd already been driving for six hours; the black silhouettes of trees flashed past the window, occasionally catching a glimpse of a lighted window in a small house. My wife and mother-in-law were already snoring evenly on the upper berths. Marina snored softly, breathing out. My mother-in-law was emitting such a powerful roar that the windows rattled. I lay on the lower berth by the window, Katya on the opposite lower bert
My head was buzzing like a beehive. The apartment was filled with the ringing deafness that comes after a noisy party, when the guests have left and you're left alone with mountains of dirty dishes. Ira, my wife, her best friend Lena, and I were sitting on the couch, completely stunned. We'd had a fair amount to drink. Lena is a perpetual motion machine, loud, with a hoarse laugh and a look that always seems to be looking for adventure. She and Ira have been friends for a long time, and I've gotten used to her: loud, bright, sometimes a little brazen. Ira was already nodding off, leaning her elbows on the pillow. "That's it, guys, I can't make it," Lena said, sprawled on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table. She was wearing a short black dress that had long since slipped up, revealing her thighs. "I'll sleep it off at your place, okay?" Ira, without opening her eyes, muttered blearily, "Sure, sleep here. Just move your feet,
"Darling, get ready quickly! We're going on a yacht!" Innochka excitedly rushed around the room, packing her things into a large beach bag. Towels, swimsuits, various creams, a hat! Innochka put on her hottest swimsuit... two white triangles on her breasts, one on her pubic area, and the rest of it just strings. Shorts on her butt, and she's ready to go. I was captivated: a slender body, small breasts, but with sharply protruding nipples, visible through the contours of a mini-swimsuit, which emphasized her assets even more clearly. I constantly wanted to look at her and admire her. Slender with very long legs, a thin waist and a delightful butt, she looked sexy! Her boss's jeep pulled up to the house! Deputy Chief Sergei was driving, and Second Deputy Chief Viktor was in the back seat. I was seated in the front seat, and Innochka in the back seat between Viktor and Pyotr Petrovich! Sergey turned up the music and pressed the gas pedal! And with the music so loud,
My name is Daniil, I'm 21. Summers at our father's dacha were always a strange mix of boredom and tension. Especially after he married Irina two years ago, and she burst into my life—Maya, my now half-sister. She was 19, and she was the embodiment of everything that both drove me crazy and terrified me. Not the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers, but a real, natural beauty. Bright red hair that she always wore in a messy ponytail, freckles on her nose, and gray eyes that could see right through you. We lived in the same house, our rooms separated by a thin wall, and I could hear her tossing and turning at night. We constantly bickered over trivial things—who washed the dishes, what movie to watch—but beneath this game of "evil brother and sister," something else smoldered. Something forbidden, something sharp, something that took our breath away when our hands accidentally touched at the dinner table. We both felt it. The estate stood on the edge of an old, de
I met him (I'll call him Alexander) at one of those special private parties thrown by a good friend of mine, a lover of BDSM and other perversions. He'd taken a not-quite-spoiled young woman as soon as she'd stepped foot in the "modeling" agency, and had played with her—me, that is—to his heart's content. The circle of guests was relatively small, but it was hard work, as they say, and the pay was quite decent. I worked with my friend Angela. She played the top, and I the bottom. Something between a themed session and porn theater. I won't go into detail, as that story is about something else. I'll just say that by the end, securely restrained, I was being fucked in all three holes by everyone who wanted to. It wasn't exactly a crowd, but it wasn't easy to endure it all, especially anal, no matter how thoroughly Angela lubed my ass beforehand. During the session, I don't think I ever truly came, but afterward, when they untied me, finished
My whole life changed after my wife, Innochka, graduated from law school and got a job in a law firm. I started noticing a change in her life. No, she didn't act any different around me. She just started paying more attention to herself. She started going to the tanning salon, and the fact that she was tanning in a swimsuit was obvious from the untanned stripes on her body, although you couldn't really call what she was covering herself with a swimsuit. Her fingernails had grown noticeably longer, and her nail polish had also become a more aggressive, bright red, as had her lipstick, which matched her nails. Her lips were naturally plump, as if pumped up by something, and she said her lipstick matched her nails. She stopped wearing tights, only stockings. If she wore a business suit under a skirt, she wore stockings with elastic bands, and if she wore pantsuits, she wore stockings with a garter belt to hold them up. Shoes or boots were strictly stiletto heels. She had to buy
The last bus from the city to my remote district center. Ten o'clock at night, exhausted beyond belief. The bus was half empty—a couple of students with headphones in the front, an old woman with bags by the driver, and me in my usual window seat at the very back. Rain streamed down the window in slanted streaks, the streetlights flickered like garlands. I buried my face in my phone, thinking only about getting there and collapsing into bed. At the stop near the business center, she glided onto the bus. She walked unsteadily, holding onto the handrails. She wore an expensive burgundy coat, a pencil skirt, and heels. Her gaze was empty, slightly glassy. The air smelled of frosty air, perfume, and... whiskey. She walked slowly across the bus, swayed, and plopped down on the seat next to me, even though there were plenty of empty seats. “Sorry,” her voice was hoarse, tired. “I’m just... here. Okay?” “Yes, of course,” I moved towards the window. She shrugged off her coat, crumpling
Violetta Alekseyevna was a fifty-three-year-old woman with a strong character and a well-developed sense of self-worth. She had been the hospital's chief physician for over ten years and was highly respected by her colleagues and patients. She had been married for many years and had an adult son who had long since moved on with his own life. Violetta was a woman of strict principles and strict rules. She always maintained strict discipline and expected the same from others. She was an intelligent, educated, and successful woman who knew what she wanted in life and how to achieve it. But despite her strict character and high standards, Violetta also had a secret that no one knew, not even her husband. She experienced unusual arousal when visiting the gynecologist. Moreover, she did so more often than was necessary. Unlike many of her colleagues, she preferred to undergo examinations not at the hospital outpatient clinic, but at a private clinic where a male gynecologist worked. I
I always thought smell was the most important thing. Hot stone, oak whisk, kvassed bread for steam, and honey. And underneath it all, the scent of clean wood, warmed by human bodies. "Margarita's Bathhouse" was an expensive place, private, where people didn't just come to wash. They came to remove the crust from themselves, the one that accumulates from money, negotiations, and the eternal rush. And I, Marina, twenty-two years old, was part of this ritual. His name was Artyom. This was his third visit, and always only to me. Not the kind of brute who jumps in with his hands, no. Silent, with dark eyes that looked not at his body but right through it, as if searching for some kind of flaw within. Today he was especially exhausted. His shoulders were like boulders, his neck tense. I worked silently, the classic way. First, warming up, lightly tapping with a birch broom soaked in a basin of fragrant infusion. The steam room hummed like a living beast, the heat envelopin
The office at night. A quarter of the plan was overfulfilled—the boss, happy as a clam, left first, leaving a couple of thousand on the table for "pizza." The pizza was eaten, the money spent on whiskey and gin. Music from the JBL speaker blasted something dance-like, causing the monitors on the desks to vibrate. By eleven, there were only four of us left out of fifteen: me, Anton—our lead developer, a thoughtful and quiet man; Katya from the marketing department—a redhead with a sharp tongue and a laugh that stirred something deep in your stomach; and Lisa, the new support intern, sweet and a little shy, with wide eyes, who had drunk more than anyone else today, apparently to cope with her embarrassment. The dancing between the tables slowed, grew more intimate. I caught Katya's eye as she tilted her head back and ran her hand down her neck. Her gaze was warm, appraising. The whiskey was doing its job, sending a viscous, daring warmth through my veins. "It's kin
The office was already empty. The silence was broken only by the insistent hum of the system unit under the desk and the occasional click of the keyboard. Alina glanced at the clock in the corner of the monitor: 9:47 PM. In thirteen minutes, her long, hard-won weekend would begin, and she was still tinkering with that damn quarterly report. One error in the pivot table, one incorrect link—and that would be it. Her dream of four days on the couch, drinking wine and watching TV shows was melting away before her eyes. She stretched, hearing a crack in her back. The black tights beneath her formal black pencil skirt rubbed slightly against the leather of the office chair. She'd kicked off her high heels an hour ago, and now her numb toes rested against the cool laminate flooring. Her white blouse was unbuttoned at the top two buttons—a small rebellion against the corporate dress code in the empty space. It was at that moment that the door to her open office creaked softly. “Are you
The champagne was crap, but Lera was drinking it for the third glass in a row just to keep her hands occupied. The party was raging all around her: someone was shouting toasts from the balcony, bodies were rubbing against each other in the living room to wild indie rock, and someone's whiskey collection was already being sorted out in the kitchen. She felt like a ghost—in her most revealing black dress, which was supposed to inspire confidence but instead only exposed her back and made her cringe at the looks. New Year's. Again. Noise, hubbub, false laughter. She leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and the packed loggia, watching the glamorous presenters counting down the final minutes on the TV. Her head was pounding with alcohol and fatigue. Her last boyfriend, Artyom, had been an ex for six months, and their sex, frankly, had been as predictable as this party. Carefully, according to schedule, in the same position. No madness. No loss of control. "Fuck,&#
Night had enveloped the city. The moon shimmered in the sky, surrounded by stars like a circle. I stepped outside into a pleasant, warm day. A gentle breeze blew, fluttering the leaves, and I walked forward, determined to take a stroll. I was dressed charmingly. No underwear, just black lace fishnet stockings and red open-toed shoes... On top, I wore a snow-white, translucent blouse and a short black skirt that barely covered my butt. I must say, I looked amazing. I'm 5'4" tall and weigh 167g. My breasts are a D cup, and my large nipples are visible through my blouse... It was nice to stroll through the park, feeling the breeze between my legs. How he caressed me, oh, that libertine!)) I was humming one of my tunes cheerfully as I walked along the park path. It was quite dark, and only the moon lit my way. As I turned the corner, I felt someone's presence. It was a little frightening and at the same time incredibly arousing... I felt my nipples tense in anticipation.
There's a darkness within each of us. For some, it's thicker, while for others, it's a barely perceptible, yet still dirty, cloud. Some hide their dark side from society, while others are mostly pure and bright, but somewhere deep within them lie hidden actions that are best left unseen. This story centers on an ordinary married couple. The husband, let's call him Nikolai, the wife, let's call her Nina, and a son and daughter, whose names are of no use to us. And then something happened in their lives that could tear the family apart. His loving and beloved wife, in every sense, was recovering from her second childbirth, and Kolya couldn't be happier. She was becoming more beautiful, and most importantly, the spark that had once attracted him was rekindled. Nina was regaining her usual self-confidence, her easy smile with or without reason, and her love of sex. The latter had been difficult for a long time. Before the children arrived, she was an uncontrollab
Let me start with my age. I'm 54. I recently went to the countryside to get some heating installed at our dacha. They put me up with an old lady who lived next door. She was an ordinary old lady, and very easy to talk to. She often used swear words in conversation, making jokes. Her jokes were often below the belt. She was pleasant-looking, plump, with a huge ass and seven-cup breasts. Her name was Anna Semyonovna. I arrived at the site in the late afternoon. When we sat down to dinner, she poured me a shot and shared it with me. I thanked her for the treat and went to bed. The next morning, my hostess woke me to the clatter of dishes as she bustled about in the kitchen. A light breakfast and I was already at the site, which was located on the neighboring property. I worked all day, breaking only for lunch. “And I’m following you,” I heard Anna Semyonovna’s voice as I was installing the fasteners. “What is it?” I responded. "Okay, it's time for lunch. War is war, but lun
The beach was crowded. On this day, as luck would have it, the sun was merciless, forcing my friend and I to bury ourselves in the sand to avoid direct sunlight on our tender, youthful bodies. Vova and I were inseparable, so wherever he went, I went too. It was the same this time. Having suggested we take a stroll to the beach, I agreed without hesitation to what I considered a rash and ill-timed excursion. But there was no time to whine about it, as I was intrigued by the girls in bathing suits who seemed drawn to stroll by our lounge chair. I was certainly happy with the situation, but I wanted more. And I wanted instant, uncontrollable sex with these long-legged, busty furies. But this remained just an unrealizable fantasy, considerably overheated by the hot, parching sun. Having stopped dreaming of the impossible, I turned my attention to the next group of girls walking along the sand, deftly twisting their buns, inflaming in me the desire to make full use of their asses. "G
Abeba is 23 years old. Black skin. If Latika's was chocolate brown, Abeba's was a dark brown. She has a big butt, large breasts, and is probably as tall as Manana, with large, full lips and dandelion-like hair like all African women. Her father was the African ambassador to our city, so when she came of age, he brought her here to study, especially since she had a passion for archaeology. There was much unexplored back home in Africa. I'd always had my eye on her; I liked that type of girl. It was probably because of Manana. Abeba spoke fluent Russian with a slight accent. This is probably my favorite story from my diary, I have never had sex like this with anyone, Manana and my aunt don’t count. So one day, when the higher mathematics lesson ended, the teacher asked me to stay a little longer. "Maxim, I have a task, or rather a request. I simply don't have time at work, let alone with tutoring at home. There's an African girl named Abeba in her second year;