u/mnbabe4funza

The Durban afternoon heat was brutal. The AC had died that morning and by two the house felt like a furnace. Hubby was up in Joburg on business. The kids were still at school. I was alone. I’d called him from the factory, my usual repair guy, the one who’d been dropping little comments for almost three years. “Gonna fix that leak for you.” Always with that half-smile, eyes lingering too long.

He cancelled everything and showed up. Handsome, early forties, light-skinned, broad shoulders, thick working-man arms. I met him at the door in cut-off shorts that barely covered my ass and a thin white crop top with no bra. My 36Ds sat heavy and free, nipples already tight. His eyes went straight to my chest. Dressed like that on purpose? he asked, I didn’t deny it. Just handed him a cold beer. When he crouched by the wall unit I stood close, thigh brushing his shoulder. The crop top had ridden higher. He stood, one big hand cupping the heavy underside of my right breast through the thin cotton, thumb dragging hard across the nipple. The other hand squeezed my ass until I gasped.

“Been teasing me three months,” he muttered. “Today you’re gonna get fixed.”

I started to say something half protest but he spun me around, shoved me forward until my hands hit the wall, and yanked my shorts and panties down in one rough motion. Cool air hit my bare pussy. He dropped to his knees behind me. The first long, wet stroke of his tongue went straight up the centre of my pussy, then higher. He spread my cheeks and buried his face. His tongue pushed into my asshole without warning, thick and insistent, while his nose pressed into my pussy. I cried out, legs shaking. He ate me like he was starving long filthy licks alternating between fucking my ass with his tongue and sucking my swollen clit. Every time I tried to close my legs he forced them wider with his shoulders. I felt used. And so fucking wet I couldn’t stop it.

He shoved me down onto the carpet next to the open unit, yanked the crop top up so my tits spilled free, then climbed over me and crushed them together around his thick cock. He fucked the tight channel hard, thumbs digging in until the skin mottled and it almost hurt. Precum smeared across my collarbone. I just lay there and took it, breathing hard, feeling how thoroughly he was using me while my husband was hundreds of kilometres away in Joburg.

When he finally pushed my knees to my chest and drove into me bare in one hard stroke, the stretch was brutal. I moaned loud enough the neighbours might have heard. He fucked me right there on the floor for the better part of an hour long deep strokes that bottomed out every time, flipping me onto my stomach, one hand locked on the back of my neck holding my face against the carpet. Every few minutes he’d pull out, spread me open, and go back to tongue-fucking both holes before sliding in again.

I came three times while he used me. The first while his tongue was still buried in my ass. The second with his cock to the root and his hand crushing one of my tits so hard the marks would last days. The third almost involuntary, legs folded up, watching his bare shaft disappear into me while he told me what a cheating slut I was how my husband was in Joburg and the kids were at school while the repair guy bred his wife on the living-room floor.

When he finished he slammed deep and flooded me. Thick hot pulses coating every inch inside. He kept rocking through it, forcing more deeper, until it leaked out around his cock and down over my asshole. Even then he stayed buried, grinding, making sure every drop stayed where he put it. I lay there breathing hard, legs still open, shorts tangled around one ankle, tits marked with red fingerprints, his cum already dripping onto the carpet. Ruined. Marked. Full of him. Feeling thoroughly fucked and used and loving every second of it.

He picked up his tools like nothing had happened. “Call me when it acts up again.”

Then he walked out into the Durban heat, leaving me on the floor with his cum still leaking out of me, already knowing I’d call the next time anything in the house needed “fixing.”

I was sitting at the same table as him during the charity gala. This tall 6’2” white guy in a sharp black suit kept drawing my eyes. I caught myself glancing at him again and again across the table. He noticed and smiled at me. When there was a break, he came over and sat next to me. After a while, he introduced himself with that confident smile and started flirting openly. His voice was low and smooth, full of charm as we chatted during the live show.

Only after all that constant flirting, whispering in my ear, and making small jokes did his hand slide boldly onto my thigh under the table. While the performers held everyone else’s attention, his fingers began circling my smooth skin, teasing higher toward my inner thighs. The touch sent waves of heat rushing through me. Our conversation grew more personal. He asked what kind of lingerie I liked, where I shopped for it, and what made me feel sexiest lace, sheer fabrics, or thigh-high stockings. I answered honestly, enjoying the game.

He then admitted he had been married for just two years. His wife was pregnant and had stayed home, which only heightened the thrill for me. I’ve always loved the forbidden. Before the night ended, I was wet and hungry for him. Just as the event wrapped up and people started to leave, he told me he would like to buy me lingerie. But if he did, I had to wear it for him because he was the one spending the money. I shook my head with a laugh and said, “If you’re that into spending money, then sure.” He took my number, his fingers still stroking my thigh.

It wasn’t instant. Two or three days later, the text came: hotel name, room number, date, and exact time. “Sending you a package,” was all it said. The next day it arrived at my office. A sleek box containing the most luxurious sheer black stockings, thigh-high with delicate lace tops, chosen exactly to his taste. I ran my fingers over them, already wet at the thought of what was coming.

On the day, I slipped into the black stockings he sent, pairing them with heels and a tight dress that hugged my curves. I cleared my work calendar with a meeting note for the Department of Energy and arrived at the hotel right on time.

He opened the door, and his eyes darkened with raw hunger. We hugged, and he unzipped my dress from behind while still holding me. The dress dropped to the floor, leaving me in my undergarments. The second he saw me wearing his gift, he growled, “Fuck, you look incredible,” and pulled me into the luxurious suite. The door shut, and the real fun began.

He kissed me like he owned me, his big hands roaming over my body. One by one, while kissing me deeply, he removed my remaining underwear until I stood there in nothing but the black stockings. Over the next three hours, he took me in four long, intense rounds, using all three of my holes each time and filling me with his cum every single round.

In the first round, he lifted me and laid me on the bed, then bent me over and slammed deep into my pussy while gripping the lace tops of the stockings. He soon said, “I have to take this ass,” and switched to my ass, stretching me wide. Then he moved back to my pussy, pumping his first hot load deep inside me as I came hard.

He barely let me catch my breath before round two. After a few minutes of cuddling, he fed me his cock, fucking my throat until tears pricked my eyes. Then he took my ass again, finishing with another thick creampie deep inside. I was in a little pain , his cock was so big, and though I wasn’t new to anal, he was intense. I told him I needed a quick break. He got up, brought me a drink, and we cuddled for a few minutes before we started kissing again. His kisses grew more intense. He moved down to my breasts and sucked them for at least ten to fifteen minutes, then traced slow circles with his tongue around my belly button before he began eating me out. He licked, sucked, bit, and pulled my swollen pussy lips, then sucked them again while my legs rested on his shoulders. All the while, he kneaded my breasts with his strong hands.

For the third round, he laid me on my back with my legs spread wide in the ruined stockings. He rotated slowly and powerfully through my mouth, pussy, and ass, leaving me shaking. He ended by flooding my pussy once more. I told him we should stop because I was getting exhausted and needed to get home in time, but he said, “One more round and I’ll let you go.”

By the fourth round, I was a wrecked, dripping mess. He put me on my back, entered me, then lifted me up and carried me. He pressed my body against the window, entering my already sensitive pussy and pounding me in a standing position relentlessly. My moans echoed as the city lights blurred below us. He saved the last load for my pussy, thrusting deep as he came hard, adding to the warm mess already leaking down my thighs.

I was left trembling, stockings torn, body covered in sweat and his cum, my voice hoarse from screaming. He finally pulled me close, fingers tracing the lace he had bought me. “Best lingerie purchase so far,” he murmured.

I smiled, already wondering if I was going to get addicted to this man.