I learned a long time ago: all women are the same, some just hide it well. Especially those who pretend to be untouchable and "faithful wives." My older brother, Gena, apparently never understood this. Six months ago, he married a girl named Lera. According to him, she was an angel incarnate: she cooked, cleaned, and, of course, everything was magical in bed. He even invited me over to get to know him, and I finally made the time. I arrived at their country house. They greeted me warmly. Lera really was pretty—short, well-built, with heavy breasts that she was clearly embarrassed to show, but which still drew the eye. She was wearing short shorts and a tight T-shirt, no bra. Her nipples were clearly visible. While Gena set the table, I undressed her with my eyes. My cock stirred inside me, as usual. We were sitting on the veranda, drinking wine. Gena kept praising his little Lera, how she was so good at housekeeping. She sat there, blushing and pouring us more wine. I joked
Igor had only worked in the sales department for six months and quietly hated his boss, Alla Borisovna. She was forty-eight years old, tall, with a heavy gaze and a habit of muttering her words through clenched teeth. She dressed strictly—knee-length skirts, buttoned-up blouses—but even through this shell, her powerful figure was visible: a wide backside, impressive breasts. In the smoking room, the guys joked that having sex with such a woman was like hugging an iceberg, but Igor sometimes dreamed of her in the most obscene positions. And then there was this remote worker. Alla Borisovna complained that her work laptop was slow and the system administrator couldn't be reached. Igor volunteered to help—the sales quota was hanging by a thread anyway, and a little sweetness wouldn't hurt. On Saturday morning, he was already standing at her door with a flash drive and a bunch of software. The apartment turned out to be unexpectedly cozy. The boss's husband, some important c
Vera and I are in our early thirties. We've been married for six years. She had two men before me, and I had a few women. Our marriage is like a well-oiled machine: sometimes it creaks, but overall it's a joy. We try not to stagnate in bed: toys, role-playing, light BDSM. But there's one taboo that Vera guards with the tenacity of a border guard. Her ass. More precisely, the entrance to it. My finger—go ahead. My tongue—for God's sake. But my dick—no way. "It's all tight down there, I'm scared, it hurts, let's not do it now." I didn't push. I waited. Sometimes we fantasized out loud before bed: I'd whisper to her how hot it would be if a third person, experienced and patient, took her there for the first time. She'd blush, giggle excitedly, and quickly come from these conversations. But it never went beyond fantasies. And then there was the district clinic and an appointment with a proctologist. Vera had been experiencing discomfort fo
I was deep into the most boring quarterly report on Earth when I heard the laughter outside. That wasn’t unusual: my house, my pool, my twenty year ikd daughter home from college for the summer, and her best friend basically living here since Memorial Day. What made me look up from the hellish Excel grid was the way Bella’s laugh got sharp and scandalous. They were out there again, perched on rafts with drinks in hand and not a care in the world. I could see them through my office’s big glass door, both in bikinis that looked like they’d been shipped to the wrong address. Bella wore a cherry red number that screamed “Daddy’s paying tuition” and left almost nothing to the imagination. Scarlett, her friend, was the real hazard: fit, all tan and curves and that “porn name” energy, her long black hair wet and wild. If there was a contest for which one looked more like they belonged on a clickbait ad, I wouldn’t even know who to bet on. I told myself to get back to work. Instead I just li
A couple years back after graduating highschool, I found my best friends mom on social media sex site called fet life. Even though her face was blurred out of every single one of her photos, I recognized some of the pictures from her Facebook. When I went on to read her bio, it confirmed everything else. She had recently gotten divorced from her husband just a year prior and only had 1 son who was away at college. As I kept reading her profile, I stumbled upon the list of fetishes she was into. In total, she was into 88 different fetishes and had another 46 she was curious about. One of those fetishs stood out amongst the rest. That being consensual non consensual. 35 of the 43 short stories she had written on her profile involved CNC and her getting man handled. It was kind of ironic that’s what she was into considering she could probably beat up the average male who didn’t train or workout. Matt’s mom was basically known in our town as a workout junky and even taught yoga, boxing, an
This happened a few weeks ago and I've been thinking about nothing else since and I have nobody I can tell in real life. I matched with him online a couple weeks back. Handsome, tall, the kind of face that tells you he's heard it before and is mildly bored by it. We texted, we met for drinks, I brought him home because the drinks confirmed what the pictures had implied. What the pictures had not implied was anything about what was in his jeans. I saw the outline through his underwear when we were kissing in my room and I stopped. Just stopped. He looked at me, looked down, and had this slight smile like he knew exactly why I'd paused and had enjoyed every version of this reaction before. I got my hand around him and my fingers did not meet. I want to be clear: I have normal sized hands. They did not meet. He was thick in a way I'd never encountered before, the specific thickness that makes your hand feel small and makes your brain run a quick nervous calculation about what comes ne
I don’t know why, but sometimes mutual masturbation is just so much better than sex. Last night my buddy Jake came over. We haven’t ever fooled around before but we got a little tipsy. I told him I was horny and wanted to touch myself so he said let’s do it. We went to my room and I put on porn that we chose together. I got naked first and he just stared at me. I got out a vibrator, laid down, and started having fun. He was amazed, and then he laid down next to me and took out his cock. It was way bigger than I expected, I don’t know why he’d have a small cock but it was probably 8 inches and too thick for him to completely grip. Soon I found myself just watching him stroke his cock and not even watching any of the porn. I noticed he was just watching me too. I played it up a little bit and moaned louder than I normally would. I then started directing him. Telling him when to speed up his pace stroking his cock, when to slow down, when to touch his balls. He said he knew we weren’t f
"Wait, are you serious?" He said it like I'd just told him I was secretly famous or something. I nodded. We were sitting on his bed. My legs crossed under me, his hand still on my knee from where we'd been making out thirty seconds ago. I'd just said the thing. The thing I always have to say. The thing that goes one of two ways. He looked at me. Down, then back up. "I literally never would have guessed." "That's kind of the point," I said. Smiling but my stomach was doing flips. He didn't leave. Didn't go quiet. Didn't do the weird thing where they suddenly need to check their phone. He leaned forward and kissed me again, harder this time, and grabbed my waist and pulled me closer and that's when I knew this was going to go very well. His name was Derek. I met him at a bar the weekend before. He was with a group of friends. I was with mine. He kept glancing over at me until I got tired of waiting and walked up to him and said, "Are you going to talk to me or just stare all night?"
i think my biggest problem on first dates is that i genuinely cannot keep the words "cum in me" from coming out of my mouth. tbh it happens literally every time i get fucked. i'm just obsessed and addicted to it. literally addicted. like i know normal people go on a first date and maybe kiss at the end. maybe. and i'm over here forty five minutes into coffee already thinking about how to get him back to his place so he can fill me up with cum. it's actually embarrassing how easy i am to cum inside. i don't even play hard to get about it anymore. i have lost any sense of shame. i WANT them to know. i want them to know i'm the kind of girl who's gonna beg for it before they've even bought me a second drink. something about a guy i barely know finishing inside me just does something to my brain that i can't really explain and honestly i've stopped trying to fully understand it. i'm just wired that way. the last one was literally a coffee date. COFFEE. we matched, he seemed cute, we met
This is a story from about ten years ago. My girlfriend and I were both twenty. Sarah and I had been seeing each other for a few weeks and had been hooking up mostly in my car, parked in the deep quiet of the forest. We both lived at home so it was the only way we could really get any privacy. Sarah was this petite blonde, super bubbly, super confident. Physically she was a knockout, with perky boobs that suited her frame and an amazing ass. But what really set her apart was how into it she was. I mean really into it. She loved to pleasing. Gave the best head I’ve ever had and she loved doing it. That alone had me obsessed. This night she was out clubbing in town with her best friend Ash. I’d offered to pick them up because our village houses were an hour bus ride or a 20-minute car ride from town. But also, we both knew that when I dropped Ash off, there would be a forest visit detour. Sarah had been texting me on and off throughout the night with messages like “I’m so wet thinking
Currently in Miami for a long weekend to relax and chill. Over the last few nights, the couple in the room next door to me have been fucking loud and often. Morning. Afternoon. Night. Each of the rooms have connecting outdoor patios with some sheer linen curtains separating the patios. Some comfy lounge chairs and a table. My late night ritual is usually is to sit out late at night before bed and enjoy a nice cigar. Only wearing some loose shorts. Feet up on a small table. It was almost 1am and they come strolling in and say hi as they walk into their room. We make some small talk. Said I looked real comfortable and that the cigar smelled good. I thank them and ensured it didn’t bother them and they said not at all. Do my thing. Shortly after that they’re going at it again, except this time they opened their door knowing full well I had a perfect view inside. She peeks out to make sure I’m still there and smiles. Then she goes a few steps in and here in her knees and proceeds to
The steam was so thick it was hard to see the face opposite. The guys and I had had a wonderful steam bath, drank a couple of beers, and were now lounging in the anteroom. My Verochka, my beloved wife, brought us some cold kvass. She was wearing only a short silk robe, which she pulled loosely around herself, barely covering her tempting breasts. My friends, Kolyan, Tolyan, and Seryoga, grinned lecherously. In the bathhouse, after the heat, the blood rushes, and desires intensify. Kolyan, the most daring of my friends, grabbed Vera's hand. "Why does your husband let you bathe alone, such a beauty? Let us at least check if you've washed properly." With these words, his rough paw slid under my wife's robe and greedily squeezed my wife's firm breast. Vera gasped softly, but didn't pull her hand away. She merely glanced reproachfully in my direction. But I pretended to be completely absorbed in my kvass. Then Tolyan, taking my silence as consent, came up behi
I’ve been exercising a lot lately. Maybe a little too much. Like every other gym person out there, I went too hard, too fast. That’s why there’s such thing as progressive overload. I learned my lesson and decided that I’d do smaller weights and sets, and gradually work my way up. All this exercise made my body sore. Everything hurt. Recovery was taking longer than anticipated. I decided I’d go to a massage therapist and see if that’d work. “Take off your clothes, put the towel around your waist, and lay down, stomach first.” I nodded and headed into the changing area. I took everything off, folded it, placed it on a nearby chair, then put the towel around my waist. The massage therapist said I could either put headphones in and relax, or we could do some more intense deep tissue work. I wanted the deep tissue work. I wanted to feel relief. I wanted it to borderline hurt, but in a good way. I saw the massage table in the middle of the room. There was a counter close to the mas
It was almost 1 a.m. and I had just wrapped up a three-hour chemistry grind when my phone buzzed. It was Brooke, my girlfriend. Her contact pic: a blurry photo of us at the beach, her blonde hair whipping into my face, mouth open wide. I answered on the third ring. “Hey. What’s up?” “Tyler.” Her voice was tight, slightly nasal, the way she got when she was pissed but trying not to show it. “Can you do me a huge favor?” I closed my laptop, pinched the bridge of my nose, and braced. “Sure, babe.” “It’s Kayla. She’s at this party on the edge of town and she’s, uh, not exactly… functioning.” There was some movement in the background and Brooke’s voice dipped to a whisper. “She’s wasted. Like, can’t-even-call-an-Uber wasted. She tried, but the app says there’s a thirty-minute wait and she’s being a huge brat. I don’t have my license yet and Mom is going to freak if Kayla comes home like this. Can you just… pick her up and maybe drive her around for a bit? Let her chill before she gets d
Third week with a new trainer. I signed up for him myself, having seen him on Instagram: tall, broad-shouldered, with a look in his eyes as if he already knew all the most embarrassing things about me. Vadim Romanovich. A former champion in some martial art, now the most expensive personal trainer at the Platinum club. They said he's tough. They said he'd show results within a month. They didn't say anything else. The first training session is hell. The second is a humiliating hell. He doesn't ask, he commands: "Five more," "Faster," "Are you weak?" And the worst part is, I do it. I can't stop. He looks at me, corrects my technique, places a heavy palm on my lower back, and a treacherous warmth spreads in my lower abdomen. I started wearing the most protective clothing so as not to give myself away by shaking. This morning I broke my diet again. Just one croissant and a latte with syrup, but he always knows it with some kind of animal inst
Night. The sound of the surf. Music somewhere in the distance. Liza and I walked away from the fire. The sand was still warm. There were two people nearby: Seryozha and Vlad. They brought champagne. Bitter, bubbling on the tongue. — Are you frozen? - No. - And you have goosebumps. - It's not from the cold. Liza is already kissing Seryozha. His fingers are tangled in her hair, wet from the bath. Vlad looks at me. For a long time. I take a sip straight from the bottle. I hand it to him. His lips are on the same glass as mine. — Do you want to take a swim? - I'm not wearing a swimsuit. - So much the better. We run to the water. The waves lick our feet. He catches up with me, already waist-deep in the sea. The water is warm, almost hot after the afternoon sun. His hands slide along my waist underwater. — You can't see anything here. - Do you want to see something? — I want to touch it. A palm falls on a chest. The nipples instantly harden. Not from the cold. Salt water on th
I was sitting in the window seat and the woman was in the middle seat. Right after we boarded the flight, we bumped elbows a couple times. It seemed normal though as we were getting situated in our seats. Close to about the time we were taking off, I felt her leg touch mine. There was the arm rest between us, which was the obvious boundary, but as I looked down I saw her leg crossing beneath it onto my side. Our quads were basically kissing each other. The lady didn’t move her leg away. It was my space so I didn’t move mine either. We stayed locked in that position while the plane took off and ascended. The acceleration and maneuvering jostled us in our seats, causing us to press into each other more and more. Side note. To describe her simply, she was strikingly beautiful. But she seemed plenty older than me, maybe by 20 years. She was wearing a puffy black coat with a fur-lined hood. Underneath she had on a gray shirt that gave away the size of her bust. You’d hardly suspect she h
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been a sex-positive person and a firm believer in “we listen and we do not judge” when it comes to sex. I had a share of my wild experiences, mostly from my teens and twenties. At that same time, I always thought that to have a really good sex (and I mean REALLY good), some deeper connection, both emotional and intellectual, is a must. I, a 35 year old man, also believed that much younger women are just not my thing. That was until I met M. We met on random while we were both vacationing by the sea. Turned out, we both came there because we needed a getaway, a small break from day to day. She seemed kind and nice. We talked for a bit, all SFW and friendly, we got a good banter. As we were saying goodbye, I asked her what are her plans for the evening, just out of curiosity. She planned to get a beer somewhere. Coincidentally, I had that same plan, so I asked if she wanted to meet later at a bar that got recommended to me. We exchanged numbers and decide
My best friend was always dating these girls much younger than him, and then would complain that he wasn’t getting any action from them. I knew the type of girls he was into weren’t exactly the outgoing, sexually open types. They were smart, bookish, cute but not hot. They had the look of the girl in the geek-to-prom queen rom-coms, if you know what I mean. Every time it ended he’d mention how far he’d gotten with them, usually like “she only jerked me off once” or “she wouldn’t even suck it”. One time we were getting coffee and he was downloading another handful of dates that went dry, I just asked if he wanted to have sex with me when we got to my place. He stopped mid-step “sorry, what?” he asked. It’s just sex, I said. If it gets you over the hump, let’s do it. He didn’t ask any more questions and when we got to my place we took off our shoes, hung up our coats, and then I just continued to undress. I peeled off my sweater, then turned to face him in just my bra. “Well?” gest
I hated all the pre-wedding chores. My best friend had decided to throw a big ceremony, and as best man, I was forced to wear a tuxedo. Not just buy one, but have it custom-made at some fancy tailor. A nasty autumn rain was drizzling outside, and the prospect of hanging around for an hour or two while they took my measurements was depressing. The Velvet Atelier was located in the basement of an old mansion. Inside, it was dim, cozy, and cramped with endless rolls of fabric. I gave my name to the receptionist, and a minute later she came out to meet me. Her name was Elvira. She couldn't have been more than twenty-eight, but she carried herself with that calm, slightly haughty grace that comes from women who know their worth and their craft. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a high, sleek ponytail. A strict black pantsuit clung to her figure, emphasizing her slender waist and the sharp curves of her hips. Underneath the jacket, she wore an ivory silk blouse, and I could have