I got a relatively exotic name Elina. A seemingly respectable wife, 35 years old. A couple of years ago, I got tired of the measured life of my loving husband Vitya and took my appearance seriously. Diligent training, jogging for tens of kilometers did their job. Now I am a real milf. A nice slim figure, big breasts and a lush ass. Basically, there is everything to please the eye of the spouse and have sex regularly. But no matter how hard I tried, no makeup, no sexy lingerie - my intimate life did not return to its previous course. About 7 years ago, we fucked like rabbits, and now once a month, this is already happiness. At this time, I realized that monogamy is a primeval evil! In my opinion, it is she who killed all the pleasure that can only be obtained from sex. It didn't take long before I turned into a real bitch. The office staff hated me, my husband was constantly offended and didn't talk. People call it "undersexing." And everything would have continued li
I’m a 35 year old commercial pilot. Brown hair. 6’ft. In pretty good shape. I do ok with women but travel a shitload and when I’m at home I don’t feel like going out to score a lot. Last week, there was a lady on my plane to Texas. I spotted her pre-boarding and right away I thought “oof. Wow.” I was thrilled to see she was in first class, and I decided to be a little bold: I came out to “check on the passengers up front” before we even took off. Late 30s. Mom vibes. Glasses. Hair pulled up - but tattoos peeking out from under a nice sweatshirt. She mentioned she was traveling for business and I told her “well, I’ll try to get you there quickly and safely.” When I came out halfway through the flight to have a chat, she was all smiles. What was I going to do, she asked, when we got where we were going? I mentioned a thing we sometimes tend to do called “slam-click” - where aviation folks kind of chill in your room from the time you get to the hotel until you have to head back to the
Well, I'll tell you how I fucked my mother-in-law in the bathhouse. Yes, you heard right. The same one, Natalya Petrovna, who usually looked at me like I was shit on a shoe. And this is how it happened. My wife and I went to her dacha in the village, she had just left on an urgent business trip, and I had a lot of work to do on the property. My mother-in-law, of course, lived there all summer. In the evening after work we were sitting, finishing up the shashlik. And of course we drank. Not to the point of being completely drunk, but good enough, relaxed. My mother-in-law poured me some drinks, and she looked at me in such a way... Not in a motherly way. And she was a woman, mature, of course, over fifty, but her figure... Such wide hips, a butt the size of half a trough, boobs - you could carry her in your arms. That day she was wearing a tight T-shirt, so I kept glancing at those curves out of the corner of my eye. And then she says: “Oh, the bathhouse is all heated up. Is it f
The door to Maria Ivanovna's office slammed shut with a sound as if it were not a massive oak door, but the lid of a coffin. My coffin. The air in the room was cool, smelling of expensive perfume and power. Her power. I stood there, looking down at the plush carpet, feeling like a complete idiot. The report had been so blatantly flawed, and now I had to listen to what my boss thought about it. And she thought, as usual, without embellishment. Maria Ivanovna walked silently around her desk. Her sky-high Christian Louboutin heels clicked out a slow, commanding beat. Each click sent a volley of alarm through my body. She stopped right in front of me, and I smelled a wave of her aroma – bitter chocolate, black pepper, and something elusive and dangerous. "Explain this hack job to me," her voice was low, calm, and therefore even more chilling. "I spend my time, my nerves, on you. And what do I get in return?" She took another step. The tip of her shoe almost touched m
Like all anonymous storytellers, I will introduce myself to you by a false name, because my safety depends on it, which you will understand after reading my own story of sex-cheating with a loving but very jealous husband. My name is Svetlana, I am 32 years old and for this age I have a simply magnificent body, especially my butt and firm second-size breasts, which have been crazy about since university. To be honest, I married Sergey (my husband) for convenience, because before I got a high-paying job in the HR company, I really needed money and a loved one. We never had anything special with Sergey, and even our sex was quite banal due to his widespread religiosity - he did not want me in the ass, and I just pine for the anus. Because in addition to sexual hypocrisy, my husband is also not averse to getting physical in a fit of jealous anger, because in his understanding I flirt with each of his friends and the last time I kicked him out of the house, for a while. Of course, we co
You know, there are all sorts of confessions about sex, but sometimes it seems that everyone draws their inspiration from already filmed stories, famous studios. I myself thought so for a long time. But as it turned out one fine day, everything is much simpler. It is directors and cameramen who take situations that have already happened and try to adapt them for the viewer. My name is Lena, and this story happened to me quite a long time ago, or more precisely in the mid-00s. At that time, I was about 24 years old. Let's not dwell on the numbers, because this is a secondary matter. But perhaps it would be logical to describe my appearance a little. A tall girl with light-brown hair, but not a very outstanding figure. My chest barely reaches the 2nd size and my hips are far from wide. In one word, I can be described as "skinny". At that time I was living with a guy and we had problems with work. Constant delays in salary along with its reduction. No matter how hard my roo
One of the most enjoyable moments is always the brief moment before the first kiss. That moment when everything can go wrong. An inept guy, bad breath, rough lips. But if everything goes perfectly, the first kiss is unlikely to be forgotten. That time everything was exactly like that, but the first night was something out of the ordinary, namely turning into a slave, but it is better to start from the very beginning. My name is Vika. I am a simple girl from the suburbs and fortunately I managed to enter a capital university. My appearance is quite decent, not without flaws. But they can be attributed to the lack of physical exercise. There is nothing extremely unsuccessful. An ordinary, tall student 175 cm, with small breasts of the 2nd size, a slightly convex bottom and a slender, but not trained body. Not a blonde and not a brunette. This is something in between the two extremes. So now I am in my third year and recently I was lucky to meet a graduate of this university, whose nam
I always thought that being a secretary for a boss like Mr. Harris would be a chore—coffee, reports, calls. But damn, he was a real character: tall, with those broad shoulders that stretched his shirt, and eyes that sometimes slid over me like I was something tasty rather than just an employee. I was 28, he was in his late 30s, divorced, and there was talk around the office that he was no saint. And me? I was just trying to keep it together, but inside I sometimes fantasized about him pinning me to the desk. Silly, right? But that business trip changed everything. We flew to Chicago for a conference – he was speaking, I was assisting. The hotel was fancy, one room for two, but with separate rooms, like a suite. "We're saving the company's budget," he said with a grin when we checked in. It was a free evening, the conference started the next day. "Anna, let's go have dinner? We can't just sit in the room," he suggested, and I nodded, feeling something
I sat in a chair in the corner of our living room, watching the candlelight cast shadows on the walls. The light was subdued, almost intimate, but there was something heavy in the air. My wife, Lera, stood at the bar, idly stirring a cocktail in a tall glass. She was 32, but she looked flawless: long dark hair flowing over her shoulders, a tight black dress that emphasized every curve of her body - a thin waist, rounded hips, breasts that seemed about to burst from the cleavage. She knew how to present herself. She knew I was watching. And she knew how it affected me. I, Artem, 35, am an ordinary middle manager, with a receding hairline and a habit of slouching when I'm nervous. It's not that I'm ugly, but next to Lera I always felt... smaller. She was like fire, and I was like a smoldering ember about to go out. We'd been married for seven years, and somewhere along the way our marriage had turned into a strange dance of love, habit, and... this. This. This. Lera gl
Last month, we were on a family vacation in the Black Forest, Germany. Beautiful place, but as much as I love my family, they can be a bit overwhelming. Morning runs are my escape, my way to clear my head and get a bit of peace before the day kicks in. Usually, I use a running app to pick a route, but that morning, I decided to trust my instincts and explore a random trail. I followed a path through the forest, surrounded by tall trees, soft earth, and that perfect crisp air you only get in the woods. It was exactly what I needed. Then I heard something. At first, I thought it might be a lost cow or even a wild boar, the kind of thing that gets your heart racing when you're alone out there. But when I paused and listened more carefully, I realized it wasn’t an animal at all. It was moaning. Rhythmic. Sexual. I knew I should have turned around, minded my own business, and continued my run. But the curiosity was too strong. The sounds were close, so I slowed down and quietly crept t
Accidentally opening the door at the wrong time, for her, I saw a beautiful maid. Coal-black hair, brown eyes, and thick black eyebrows. She wasn't wearing sexy clothes or high heels. But something about her caught my eye, and I immediately became attached to this woman, asking her how she found working here. Not knowing what to answer, she introduced herself as Linda, and immediately offered her hand. Apparently, she was new, since she didn't know who I was. We got acquainted. I forbade all my subordinates to offer me their hand, and when someone did, I recognized the newcomer, repeating over and over that this was not allowed. But I didn't tell her this. I liked the soft skin of her small hand so much that, without letting go, I began to tell her how nice it was here, and that everyone without exception gave tips, so the salary increase for the month would be significant. The woman became embarrassed, looked away. She was almost silent, and I told her and told her. How
I always thought that being a secretary for a boss like Mr. Harris would be a chore—coffee, reports, calls. But damn, he was a real character: tall, with those broad shoulders that stretched his shirt, and eyes that sometimes slid over me like I was something tasty rather than just an employee. I was 28, he was in his late 30s, divorced, and there was talk around the office that he was no saint. And me? I was just trying to keep it together, but inside I sometimes fantasized about him pinning me to the desk. Silly, right? But that business trip changed everything. We flew to Chicago for a conference – he was speaking, I was assisting. The hotel was fancy, one room for two, but with separate rooms, like a suite. "We're saving the company's budget," he said with a grin when we checked in. It was a free evening, the conference started the next day. "Anna, let's go have dinner? We can't just sit in the room," he suggested, and I nodded, feeling something
First of all, I would like to introduce myself and tell you a few words about myself. My name is Ira, I am a rather diligent and cheerful girl of 18 years old. Quite an average student of one of the industrial technical schools in the vastness of our great and vast Motherland. Short brunette, quite slender, but not a fitness babe, with neat size 2 breasts. And so fate has it that about ten years ago I had a half-brother Andrey, a couple of years older than me. We never had particularly warm feelings for each other, but we tried not to spoil life unnecessarily. And to my great happiness, my parents sent us to different educational institutions, and besides, my brother was already finishing his studies and was going to leave for the capital to continue his studies in the correspondence department at the university. I was comparatively glad that I would have to see him even less in my hometown. But as it soon became clear, I was wrong not to be interested in my brother and tried to ign
One of the most enjoyable moments is always the brief moment before the first kiss. That moment when everything can go wrong. An inept guy, bad breath, rough lips. But if everything goes perfectly, the first kiss is unlikely to be forgotten. That time everything was exactly like that, but the first night was something out of the ordinary, namely turning into a slave, but it is better to start from the very beginning. My name is Vika. I am a simple girl from the suburbs and fortunately I managed to enter a capital university. My appearance is quite decent, not without flaws. But they can be attributed to the lack of physical exercise. There is nothing extremely unsuccessful. An ordinary, tall student 175 cm, with small breasts of the 2nd size, a slightly convex bottom and a slender, but not trained body. Not a blonde and not a brunette. This is something in between the two extremes. So now I am in my third year and recently I was lucky to meet a graduate of this university, whose nam
When a meeting finished early in Clacton on one of the hottest days of the year in the UK, I (M50s) decided to head on out to the local nudist beach. It's not my favourite but on a week day it should be fairly empty of meerkats. I parked up and walked along to sea wall to the start of the nudist section. I crossed over the wall on the metal steps, stripped off and stuffed my clothes into my rucksack. I was surprised to see there was a few people there. I walked along the bottom of the beach where the shingle and sand met the mud of the estuary. This kept me away from the few groups of people who generally hug close to the dunes. I passed a family, presumably grandparents doing their child minding duties. The youngsters were happy collecting shells while the mature naked couple flicked through the newspapers. A little further on was a couple of middle-aged women who were only topless chatting away to each other and surprisingly another pair of women were also on the beach. Normally th
I got a relatively exotic name Elina. A seemingly respectable wife, 35 years old. A couple of years ago, I got tired of the measured life of my loving husband Vitya and took my appearance seriously. Diligent training, jogging for tens of kilometers did their job. Now I am a real milf. A nice slim figure, big breasts and a lush ass. Basically, there is everything to please the eye of the spouse and have sex regularly. But no matter how hard I tried, no makeup, no sexy lingerie - my intimate life did not return to its previous course. About 7 years ago, we fucked like rabbits, and now once a month, this is already happiness. At this time, I realized that monogamy is a primeval evil! In my opinion, it is she who killed all the pleasure that can only be obtained from sex. It didn't take long before I turned into a real bitch. The office staff hated me, my husband was constantly offended and didn't talk. People call it "undersexing." And everything would have continued li
You know, there are all sorts of confessions about sex, but sometimes it seems that everyone draws their inspiration from already filmed stories, famous studios. I myself thought so for a long time. But as it turned out one fine day, everything is much simpler. It is directors and cameramen who take situations that have already happened and try to adapt them for the viewer. My name is Lena, and this story happened to me quite a long time ago, or more precisely in the mid-00s. At that time, I was about 24 years old. Let's not dwell on the numbers, because this is a secondary matter. But perhaps it would be logical to describe my appearance a little. A tall girl with light-brown hair, but not a very outstanding figure. My chest barely reaches the 2nd size and my hips are far from wide. In one word, I can be described as "skinny". At that time I was living with a guy and we had problems with work. Constant delays in salary along with its reduction. No matter how hard my roo
Like all anonymous storytellers, I will introduce myself to you by a false name, because my safety depends on it, which you will understand after reading my own story of sex-cheating with a loving but very jealous husband. My name is Svetlana, I am 32 years old and for this age I have a simply magnificent body, especially my butt and firm second-size breasts, which have been crazy about since university. To be honest, I married Sergey (my husband) for convenience, because before I got a high-paying job in the HR company, I really needed money and a loved one. We never had anything special with Sergey, and even our sex was quite banal due to his widespread religiosity - he did not want me in the ass, and I just pine for the anus. Because in addition to sexual hypocrisy, my husband is also not averse to getting physical in a fit of jealous anger, because in his understanding I flirt with each of his friends and the last time I kicked him out of the house, for a while. Of course, we co
Around 2023-2024 I used to hang out at this music venue near my apartment just to have a few drinks, hit on some women, and listen to whatever indie band or solo singer was booked that night. It was a dark venue with sticky beer-soaked floors, but it was popular within the scene. Most nights it's some long-haired dude with a guitar singing a love ballad for the girl he's about to cheat on with one or two of the girls in the crowd or a smelly-looking guy singing about injustices in whatever part of the world was in the news that week. That was fine with me, I enjoyed that kind of thing. You never know which of these guys might be the next Bob Dylan... but... having listened to them, I can confidently tell you it's none of them. On this particular night I watched the dark shadows of band members setting up the stage and noticed one who was considerably shorter than the rest carrying around a guitar that looked oversized on its body and setting up the microphone at the front of the stage
Like all anonymous storytellers, I will introduce myself to you by a false name, because my safety depends on it, which you will understand after reading my own story of sex-cheating with a loving but very jealous husband. My name is Svetlana, I am 32 years old and for this age I have a simply magnificent body, especially my butt and firm second-size breasts, which have been crazy about since university. To be honest, I married Sergey (my husband) for convenience, because before I got a high-paying job in the HR company, I really needed money and a loved one. We never had anything special with Sergey, and even our sex was quite banal due to his widespread religiosity - he did not want me in the ass, and I just pine for the anus. Because in addition to sexual hypocrisy, my husband is also not averse to getting physical in a fit of jealous anger, because in his understanding I flirt with each of his friends and the last time I kicked him out of the house, for a while. Of course, we co