r/cuckoldstories2

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Jenna's eyes were locked on the thick, veined length of Jonas’s cock. It bobbed heavily in front of her, the swollen head glistening with fresh precum that slowly dripped down the dark shaft. Her mouth was dry, her pussy soaked, her mind a screaming mess of shame and raw need.

She forced herself to stand there on shaky legs, the cool air kissing her bare breasts and making her nipples tighten even more. The soaked white thong was the only thing left on her body, the lace dark and clinging obscenely to her swollen folds.

Her voice came out small and breathless.

“…What else do you need me to do tonight?”

Jonas’s dark eyes dragged slowly over her naked curves — full breasts, soft stomach, wide hips, thick thighs — before settling on her face. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips. His massive cock twitched visibly, still rock-hard and leaking.

“Since you’re already dressed for it,” he said, voice low and rough as he removed his shirt, “go grab the Swiffer from the hall closet and run it over all the hardwood floors. Then vacuum the rugs and carpets in the living room and office. Take your time. I want to watch you work.”

Jenna’s stomach flipped. The request was so mundane, so domestic — yet the way he said it, combined with her near-naked state, made it feel filthy. She nodded silently and walked past him, feeling his gaze burn into her ass with every step. Her breasts swayed heavily as she moved, nipples stiff and aching.

She found the Swiffer and a fresh pad, then started in the hallway. Bending at the waist to push the Swiffer under the baseboards, she felt the thin thong pull tight between her cheeks. Her full ass jiggled with every smooth stroke. She could feel Jonas’s eyes on her the entire time.

He followed a few steps behind, still completely naked, his heavy cock swinging with each step. He didn’t hide it. He didn’t stroke it. He just let it hang there, thick and hard and leaking, while he watched her clean.

Jenna moved into the living room next, pushing the Swiffer across the wide planks. Every bend, every stretch made her breasts sway and bounce. The motion was hypnotic. Her body shook seductively — soft flesh rippling, hips swaying, ass jiggling with each push and pull. The short thong offered zero coverage from behind. She knew exactly what he was seeing.

And she couldn’t stop staring at his cock.

It was so different from Aiden’s. Aiden was slim, pale, gentle. Jonas was heavyset, dark-skinned, powerfully built — broad chest and thick belly, strong arms and tree-trunk thighs, the kind of masculine body that looked like it had been earned through years of real work. His cock was the centerpiece: long, thick, heavy, veins standing out like ropes. It bobbed and swayed as he moved, the fat head shiny with precum. Every time she glanced over, it was still rock-hard for her.

God… look at him. He’s so… masculine. So much bigger than Aiden in every way. The way it hangs there, so heavy, so thick…

The guilt crashed over her in waves. She was married. She loved Aiden. Yet here she was — practically naked, cleaning another man’s floors while he watched with his massive black cock out, hard and dripping because of her.

She moved to the rugs next, plugging in the vacuum. The machine roared to life. As she pushed it back and forth, her breasts bounced heavily with every stroke. Her ass jiggled. The thin thong rode up even higher between her cheeks. Jonas stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes locked on her body while his cock stayed rigidly hard, pointing straight at her.

She couldn’t stop stealing glances at it.

It’s so much thicker than Aiden’s… so much longer… the head is so swollen… I can see it throbbing…

Jonas’s deep voice cut through the vacuum’s hum.

“Looking good, sweetheart. Keep going. Push that vacuum nice and slow for me.”

Jenna’s face burned with shame, but she obeyed. Her body moved for him — breasts swaying, ass shaking, thighs flexing — while her eyes kept drifting back to the massive, dark cock that refused to soften.

The mundane chore had become pure, humiliating foreplay.

And the worst part was how wet it was making her.

She was still vacuuming when Jonas stepped closer, his heavy cock now only a few feet away, still rock-hard and leaking steadily as he watched her body shake seductively for him.

Jenna pushed the vacuum across the final stretch of hardwood in the hallway, then dragged it into Jonas’s bedroom. The room felt smaller now that it was fully staged — the big bed made up with fresh linens, the new carpet soft under her sandals, the crown molding gleaming white above her. She moved mechanically, guiding the vacuum head back and forth in long, steady passes, her bare breasts swaying heavily with every step. The thin white thong was completely soaked, the lace dark and clinging to her swollen pussy lips. Every bend or stretch made the fabric shift, teasing her aching clit.

Jonas followed her in and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, his massive cock still jutting out hard and heavy from his open shorts. He didn’t speak while she worked. He just watched — eyes tracing the jiggle of her ass, the way her nipples tightened in the cool air, the faint sheen of arousal on her inner thighs.

When she finally switched off the vacuum and straightened up, breathing a little faster from the effort, Jonas’s voice rolled through the quiet room.

“You want another good look at me stroking this cock, sweetheart?”

Jenna’s heart slammed against her ribs. She opened her mouth, the protest already forming.

“I… I should go,” she whispered, voice shaky. “It’s getting late. Aiden’s waiting.”

Jonas didn’t argue. He simply walked over to the edge of the bed, sat down, and spread his thick thighs wide. His heavy black cock stood straight up now, dark and veined, the swollen head already glistening. He wrapped one large hand around the thick shaft and gave it one slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip. A thick bead of precum welled up at the slit and slowly dripped down the underside.

Jenna’s eyes locked onto it instantly. She couldn’t look away. Her feet stayed rooted to the carpet even as her mind screamed at her to leave.

Jonas stroked again — long, slow, twisting his fist over the fat head so more shiny precum oozed out and coated his fingers.

“We already watched each other cum once,” he said, voice low and calm. “You stood in my hallway fingering that pretty pussy while I shot all over myself. Why not see it up close this time? No hiding. No sneaking. Just you… sitting right here… watching me stroke this big black cock for you.”

Jenna’s breath hitched. Her will was crumbling fast. The rational part of her — the loyal wife, the progressive teacher, the woman who had sworn this would never go this far — was losing ground to the aching heat between her legs and the hypnotic sight of Jonas’s massive cock pulsing in his hand.

She glanced once toward the door, then back at him. Without another word she reached for the small armchair in the corner, dragged it over, and set it directly in front of him — close enough that her knees almost touched his spread thighs when she sat down.

Jonas smiled slowly, still stroking.

“Good girl. Now lose the thong. I want to see that pretty pussy while you watch me. I want to watch you get yourself off too.”

Jenna’s hands trembled. Her mind flashed to Aiden — sweet, gentle Aiden waiting across the street — but the image was drowned out by the sight of Jonas’s thick cock, the way it throbbed, the way more precum kept leaking for her.

Her resistance snapped.

She lifted her hips off the chair, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the soaked white thong, and slid it slowly down her thick thighs. The lace peeled away from her pussy with a wet sound. She kicked it off her ankles and sat back down completely naked, legs slightly parted.

Jonas groaned in approval, his hand speeding up just a little on his massive shaft.

“Show me,” he said, voice rough. “Spread those pretty lips for me. Let me see how wet you are.”

Jenna hesitated, cheeks burning crimson. This was the moment. No one except Aiden had ever seen her like this — open, exposed, offered. Not like this. Not this raw. Not this vulnerable.

But the cool air kissed her dripping folds, and the hungry, possessive look in Jonas’s dark eyes made her clit throb so hard she whimpered.

Slowly, shakily, she reached down with both hands. Her fingers trembled as she spread her swollen pussy lips apart, revealing her glistening pink inner folds and the tight, leaking entrance beneath. A thin string of her arousal stretched and broke, dripping onto the chair.

Jonas’s eyes darkened with raw lust. His hand stroked faster along his massive cock, drawing out even more thick, shiny precum.

“Fuck… look at that pretty white pussy,” he breathed. “So wet for me already.”

Jenna sat naked in the chair. Her full breasts rose and fell with every shaky breath, pink nipples stiff and aching. Her smooth, pink pussy was completely exposed — swollen, glistening, and dripping onto the seat beneath her.

Jonas’s massive black cock throbbed in his hand, the thick, veined shaft shiny with his own precum as he stroked it slowly.

“Touch yourself for me,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Pinch those pretty nipples. Rub that clit. Let me see how you play with that tight little white pussy while you watch me stroke this big black cock.”

Jenna’s hands trembled as she obeyed. She brought both hands up to her breasts, cupping their heavy weight, then pinched her stiff nipples between her fingers — rolling and tugging them the way she liked. A soft, broken whimper escaped her lips. One hand slid down her stomach, over her smooth mound, and two fingers found her swollen clit. She started rubbing slow, tight circles, her hips twitching involuntarily.

Jonas groaned in approval, his hand moving a little faster along his thick shaft.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured. “So pretty when you’re playing with yourself. That pussy looks so tight… so pink and wet. I bet you’re gripping like a vice. Bet you can barely feel anything when your little husband slides in, huh? That little white pussy was made for something bigger. Something thicker. Something that can stretch you open the way you need.”

Jenna’s fingers sped up on her clit, her breath coming in short gasps. The shame burned hot in her chest, but the pleasure was stronger. She couldn’t stop staring at his massive cock as he stroked it.

Jonas’s eyes stayed locked on her dripping pussy.

“How big is your husband, sweetheart?” he asked, voice rough but curious. “Be honest. How big is that little dick he’s been giving you all these years?”

Jenna hesitated, fingers still circling her clit. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment for Aiden. She didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to betray him like this.

But Jonas kept stroking — slow, deliberate, drawing out more thick precum that dripped down his shaft — and the words slipped out anyway.

“…Five inches,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Maybe five and a half on a good day. He’s… he’s not very thick.”

Jonas let out a deep, satisfied groan. His hand tightened around his own much larger cock.

“Five inches,” he repeated, almost pitying. “Poor little nerd. No wonder you’re so fucking wet right now. You’ve never had anything close to this, have you?”

He kept stroking, the wet sound of his hand gliding over his thick, glistening shaft filling the room.

“Reach into the top drawer of that nightstand,” he told her, nodding toward the bed. “Bring me the lube.”

Jenna’s legs felt weak, but she stood on shaky feet and walked the few steps to the nightstand. She opened the drawer, found the clear bottle of lube, and brought it back to him. Her breasts swayed heavily as she moved, nipples still stiff and sensitive.

Jonas held out his free hand. “Squeeze it for me. Right over the head. Nice and slow.”

Jenna’s hands were trembling as she uncapped the bottle and positioned it above his massive, throbbing cock. She squeezed. A thick, clear stream of lube poured out, landing directly on the swollen purple-black head and running down the veined shaft in shiny rivulets.

Jonas groaned deeply and used both hands to rub the lube in — slow, slick strokes that made his entire cock glisten obscenely. The wet, filthy sound of lube-coated skin filled the room.

Jenna sat back down in the chair, now only inches away. She was so close she could smell him — the clean, musky scent of his skin mixed with the faint, intimate aroma of his precum and the lube. The heat radiating off his thick cock was palpable. She could see every ridge, every pulsing vein, every fresh bead of precum mixing with the lube as he stroked himself for her.

Her fingers found her clit again without being told. She rubbed faster now, eyes glued to the massive, glistening black cock only a foot away from her face.

Jonas watched her with dark, hungry eyes, his lubed hand gliding smoothly up and down his enormous length.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Keep rubbing that pretty clit while you watch me. You’re so fucking close already, aren’t you?”

Jenna whimpered, unable to deny it. Her will had completely crumbled. She was naked, legs spread, fingering herself in front of another man while he stroked his massive cock right in front of her — and she had never been wetter in her life.

What the hell am I doing?

The thought slammed into her like ice water, but it couldn’t put out the fire burning between her legs.

This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong.

She was married. She loved Aiden — sweet, gentle, respectful Aiden, who had never once made her feel like a piece of meat. He worshipped her mind, her values, her heart. He had built their life together on equality and kindness. And here she was, sitting naked in another man’s bedroom, legs open, rubbing her clit while she stared at a cock that wasn’t his. A cock that made Aiden’s look like a toy.

Guilt twisted in her stomach like a knife. She could picture Aiden’s face right now — that hopeful, anxious look he got whenever she came home from Jonas’s house. He had chosen this dress for her. He had gotten hard watching her walk across the street in it. But this? This was so far beyond what they had whispered about in the dark. She was betraying him. Not just with her body, but with her mind. With how wet she was. With how badly she wanted to keep looking.

Progressive Jenna would be disgusted right now.

The woman who had marched in college, who taught her third-graders about respect and consent and body autonomy — that woman was screaming inside her head. She had spent years rejecting the idea that a woman’s worth was in how men looked at her. She had fought so hard to escape the conservative shame of her upbringing, the sermons about modesty and temptation and “a woman’s place.” And yet here she was — bent to the exact kind of crude, dominant masculinity she had always claimed to despise. Letting a man twice her age reduce her to tits and a dripping pussy. Getting off on it.

She hated herself for how good it felt.

Her fingers sped up on her clit without permission. A soft, broken whimper slipped out.

Jonas noticed. Of course he did. His hand kept stroking that enormous, glistening black cock — slow, deliberate twists that made the thick head flare and leak more precum.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Fingers buried in that pretty pink pussy while you stare at a real man’s cock. You’re tighter than you look, aren’t you, sweetheart? That little hole’s never had anything close to this size. Bet your body is used to your husband's little cock. Bet you have to fake it sometimes just to make him feel like a man.”

The words should have made her furious. Instead they made her clit throb harder under her fingers. Another rush of wetness leaked out of her, dripping onto the chair.

Stop. Please stop thinking about how big he is.

But she couldn’t. The contrast was burned into her brain now. Jonas’s heavyset, powerful dark body — thick arms, broad chest, solid belly, tree-trunk thighs — was everything Aiden wasn’t. Masculine in a raw, unapologetic way. The kind of man who took what he wanted without asking permission or apologizing for it. The kind of man her conservative parents would have warned her about… and the kind her progressive ideals told her she should reject.

Yet her body was betraying her completely.

She pinched her nipple harder, rolling it between her fingers as her hips rolled subtly against her own hand. Her eyes stayed glued to Jonas’s cock — the way the thick vein pulsed, the way the heavy balls tightened every time he stroked upward, the obscene shine of lube and precum coating every inch.

Just look at it… God, it’s beautiful. So heavy. So thick. I can smell him… that musky, masculine scent. It’s making me so wet.

Tears of shame pricked at the corners of her eyes even as pleasure coiled tighter in her belly. She was crumbling. Piece by piece. The good wife, the strong woman, the loyal partner — all of it was fracturing under the weight of raw, animal need she had never let herself feel before.

Jonas kept stroking, slow and steady, letting her watch every glistening inch.

“You’re so close already, aren’t you?” he said softly. “Keep rubbing that clit for me, baby. Show me how you make that tight little pussy cum while you stare at what you really need.”

Jenna whimpered again, fingers moving faster, shame and lust twisting together until she couldn’t tell which was which anymore.

She was losing the battle.

And some terrified, aching part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to win.

Jenna’s fingers moved faster on her swollen clit, slick sounds filling the quiet bedroom as she rubbed tight, desperate circles. Her other hand pinched and tugged her stiff nipple, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight to her core. She was soaked — dripping down onto the chair beneath her — but she tried so hard to stay in control.

Jonas kept stroking his massive, lubed cock with slow, deliberate strokes, the wet, glossy shaft glistening in the lamplight. His voice dropped even lower, thick with lust.

“Imagine it, sweetheart,” he murmured, eyes locked on her spread pussy. “Imagine how good it would feel to let me stretch that married white pussy with this big black cock. Just the head at first… pressing against that tight little hole, spreading you open so wide. You’ve never felt anything like it. Your husband’s little five-inch dick slides right in. This one? It would fight for every inch. You’d feel every thick vein dragging along your walls, stretching you wider than you’ve ever been stretched before.”

Jenna squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to picture it.

Don’t think about it. Don’t. You love Aiden. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong.

But the images flooded in anyway — vivid, unstoppable.

She saw herself on her back on this very bed, legs spread wide, Jonas’s heavy, dark body between her thighs. She felt the blunt, swollen head of his cock nudging her entrance, so much thicker than Aiden’s, forcing her open. She imagined the slow, relentless push — that burning stretch as inch after thick inch sank into her married pussy, deeper than anything had ever gone. Her walls fluttering and clenching around something so much bigger, so much fuller. The heavy smack of his balls against her ass. The way she would moan — loud, helpless, broken moans she had never made for Aiden.

Stop. Please stop.

Her fingers rubbed her clit faster. A needy whimper escaped her throat.

Jonas’s voice kept going, calm and relentless, like he could see straight into her mind.

“You’d be creaming all over it, baby. That tight little pussy gripping me so hard, trying to take every inch. Your husband could never make you feel this full. Never make you cum like this. You’d be screaming my name while your wedding ring sparkles on your finger.”

The words crashed through her last defenses.

Jenna’s eyes flew open. Her back arched sharply off the chair. A broken, desperate cry tore from her lips as the orgasm slammed into her like a freight train.

“Oh god—!”

Her pussy spasmed violently, clenching around nothing as powerful waves ripped through her body. Fresh wetness gushed out, dripping down her thighs and onto the chair. Her breasts heaved, nipples rock-hard, her whole body shaking uncontrollably as she came hard — harder than she had in days — while staring at Jonas’s massive, throbbing cock.

Jonas never stopped stroking. He watched her come undone with a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face — the smile of a man who knew he had just won another piece of her.

“That’s it,” he murmured softly, almost tenderly. “Good girl. Cum for me while you think about it.”

Jenna trembled in the chair, fingers still pressed to her pulsing clit, tears of shame and overwhelming pleasure pricking at the corners of her eyes.

She had tried not to imagine it.

She had failed completely.

And Jonas’s smile told her he knew it.

Jenna’s orgasm had crashed over her like a violent wave, then slowly ebbed, leaving her slumped in the chair, trembling and gasping. Her fingers were still pressed between her spread thighs, slick and sticky with her own cum. Her pussy fluttered with the final aftershocks, clenching around nothing, each pulse sending a fresh trickle of wetness down the crease of her ass onto the seat beneath her.

For a few blissful seconds there was only heat and pleasure.

Then the guilt hit.

It slammed into her chest like a fist, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her eyes snapped open. Jonas was still sitting on the edge of the bed, slowly stroking his massive, lubed cock, that satisfied smile on his face as he watched her come down. The reality of the moment crashed over her all at once.

Oh my God… what did I just do?

She was naked. Completely naked in another man’s bedroom. Legs spread wide like a whore. Fingers still glistening with her own arousal. She had just cum — hard — while staring at Jonas’s cock and listening to him describe stretching her married pussy with it. Her wedding ring glinted on her finger, mocking her.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

Aiden.

The name alone made her stomach twist with nausea. Sweet, loving Aiden — the man who had held her through every financial panic, who brought her takeout when she was exhausted, who still looked at her like she hung the moon. The man who had never once pressured her, who had always respected her boundaries, who had built their life together on equality and tenderness. And she had just betrayed him in the most intimate way possible. Not just in her body, but in her mind. She had cum thinking about another man’s cock. A bigger cock. A black cock. While her own husband waited across the street, probably hard and anxious, wondering what was taking her so long.

He chose this dress for me… and I’m sitting here naked, legs open, after cumming to the thought of Jonas fucking me.

The conservative voice she had tried so hard to bury roared back to life, loud and vicious.

What kind of wife are you? What kind of woman lets another man see her like this? You’re disgusting. Cheap. Exactly what your parents warned you about.

The progressive voice was just as brutal.

You spent years preaching consent, respect, and bodily autonomy. You lectured your friends about how damaging objectification is. And now you’re sitting here fingering yourself for a man who’s been reducing you to tits and ass since day one. You’re a hypocrite. A stereotype. A weak, pathetic cliché.

Jenna’s hands started to shake. She wanted to close her legs. She wanted to cover her breasts. She wanted to grab her dress and run. But her body still hummed with the afterglow, her clit still throbbing, her pussy still leaking. The shame only made the lingering arousal worse — a sick, twisted cycle she couldn’t break.

How am I ever going to look Aiden in the eye again?

She could already picture the conversation she would have to have tonight. Or maybe she wouldn’t tell him everything. Maybe she would lie. The thought of lying to him made her feel even sicker.

Jonas’s deep voice cut through the storm in her head, calm and knowing.

“You okay over there, sweetheart?”

Jenna didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Tears slipped down her flushed cheeks as the full weight of what she had just done settled over her like a lead blanket.

She had crossed a line she swore she never would.

And the worst part — the part that made her hate herself most — was that even through the crushing guilt, her eyes were still drawn back to Jonas’s thick, glistening cock… and a small, terrified voice in the back of her mind whispered that she wanted to see what would happen next.

Jenna sat there, still trembling, tears slipping down her flushed cheeks as the crushing weight of what she had just done settled over her like a suffocating blanket. Her fingers were slick with her own cum, her pussy still fluttering with the aftershocks, and the shame was so sharp it made her stomach twist. She had just cum — hard — while staring at another man’s cock and imagining him stretching her married pussy. Aiden’s face flashed in her mind, sweet and trusting, and fresh guilt stabbed through her. But also…

Jonas’s deep voice cut through the storm in her head, low and rough with lust.

“Fuck, sweetheart… you looked so goddamn hot just now. The way your whole body shook when you came for me. Those pretty tits bouncing, that tight little pussy clenching and dripping all over the chair… I’ve never seen anything sexier in my life.”

His hand began stroking his massive, lubed cock faster now — long, firm strokes that made the thick shaft glisten and slap wetly against his palm. The obscene sound filled the room. His heavy balls tightened visibly with every upward pull.

Despite the guilt still clawing at her chest, Jenna felt a fresh wave of heat bloom low in her belly. Her clit throbbed again. Her nipples tightened painfully. The sight of him stroking that enormous black cock — combined with his raw, filthy praise — dragged her arousal right back to the surface, drowning the shame in a rush of need.

“Tell me what you think of my cock,” Jonas ordered, voice thick as he pumped himself harder. “Be honest. Look at it and tell me.”

Jenna’s breath hitched. She tried to resist — tried to cling to the guilt, to the love she had for Aiden — but her body betrayed her completely. One hand slid down between her spread thighs. Two fingers pushed inside her soaked pussy with a wet squelch, curling deep. Her other hand found her swollen clit and started rubbing fast, frantic circles.

She stared at Jonas’s throbbing cock, lips parted, voice shaky and broken as the words spilled out.

“It’s… it’s so fucking big,” she moaned, fingers pistoning in and out of herself. “So thick… so heavy… I can’t stop looking at it. The head is so swollen… leaking everywhere… I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful… it’s making me so wet…”

Jonas groaned loudly, his hand flying faster along his glistening shaft. The sight of Jenna — naked, legs spread, two fingers buried deep in her married pussy while she rubbed her clit and described his cock — pushed him right to the edge.

“Fuck… keep going,” he growled.

Jenna’s fingers thrust harder, faster, the wet sounds of her pussy mixing with the slick strokes of his hand.

“I want it,” she whimpered, shame and lust twisting together until she couldn’t tell them apart. “It’s so much bigger than Aiden’s… I keep thinking about how it would stretch me… how full I’d feel…”

That was it.

Jonas’s entire body tensed. His hand blurred along his massive cock as he exploded with a deep, guttural groan.

Thick, powerful ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head — pulse after heavy pulse, far more than she had ever seen. The first thick jet shot all the way up to his chest, splattering across his dark skin. Then another… and another… endless heavy spurts coating his heaving belly, his abs, his hand, even dripping down onto his balls. Rope after rope after rope, an obscene, endless supply that just kept coming as his cock jerked and throbbed in his fist.

The sight of it — Jonas painting his own powerful body with load after load of thick white cum — shattered what was left of Jenna’s control.

Her fingers slammed deep inside her pussy as a second, even more intense orgasm ripped through her. She cried out loudly, back arching hard, breasts bouncing as her walls clenched violently around her fingers.

“Oh god—Jonas—!”

She came undone right there in the chair, moaning his name for the first time, her pussy gushing around her thrusting fingers while she stared at the massive, pulsing cock still shooting cum all over his chest and belly.

Jenna slumped back in the chair, her body still shuddering with the final, violent aftershocks of her second orgasm. Her fingers were buried deep inside her soaked pussy, slick and twitching, while her other hand trembled against her clit. Thick strands of her own arousal coated her thighs and dripped onto the seat beneath her. Her full breasts heaved with every ragged breath, nipples still painfully hard.

For one fleeting, blissful second there was only the warm haze of release.

Then the guilt slammed into her like a freight train.

Oh God… what have I done?

The thought hit so hard her stomach clenched. She had just cum — twice — while staring at another man’s cock. Not just staring. Moaning his name. “Oh god—Jonas—!” The words echoed in her head, mocking her. She had spread her legs like a whore, fingered herself openly, and described his massive black cock out loud while her own husband waited across the street.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.

Aiden.

Sweet, gentle Aiden. The man who had held her through every late-night panic about bills and foreclosure. The man who still kissed her forehead every morning like she was the most precious thing in his world. The man who had never once made her feel small or dirty or used. She had betrayed him in the most intimate way possible — not just with her body, but with her mind and her words. She had compared him. She had admitted his cock wasn’t enough. She had cum harder than she ever had with him while thinking about another man stretching her married pussy.

The conservative voice she thought she had buried years ago roared back to life, vicious and unrelenting.

Look at you. Sitting here naked with your legs spread, pussy still dripping, after cumming to a man who isn’t your husband. You’re exactly what your father warned you about. A cheap, desperate slut who couldn’t keep her legs closed when temptation came knocking. All that “modesty” talk you hated growing up… maybe they were right.

Then the progressive voice joined in, colder and sharper, full of self-loathing.

You hypocrite. You spent years preaching body autonomy, consent, and respect. You rolled your eyes at women who “let themselves be objectified.” And now? You’re literally fingering yourself in front of a man who’s reduced you to tits and a hole since day one. You let him watch you cum. You begged to see his cock. You’re everything you claimed to fight against.

Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks.

How am I ever going to look Aiden in the eye again?

She could already picture it — walking back across the street in that slutty blue dress, cum still leaking down her thighs, the scent of another man’s release still in the air. Would she tell him everything? Could she even look at him without breaking? The thought of his hurt, confused face made her want to vomit.

And yet… even through the crushing guilt, her body still hummed. Her pussy fluttered around her fingers. Her eyes kept drifting back to Jonas’s cock — still half-hard, glistening with lube and thick ropes of his own cum painted across his powerful dark chest and belly. The sight sent another unwanted throb through her core.

Why does it feel so good? Why can’t I stop wanting more?

She hated herself for it. Hated the dark, addictive pull. Hated that a small, terrified part of her wasn’t sure she wanted this to end.

Jonas’s low, satisfied chuckle pulled her out of the spiral.

“You okay over there, sweetheart?” he asked, still slowly stroking his spent but still-impressive cock. “Looked like you enjoyed that almost as much as I did.”

Jenna didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The tears kept falling as the war inside her raged on — guilt and shame and self-loathing battling against the terrifying, undeniable truth:

She had never felt more alive… and she had never hated herself more.

Jenna sat there for a long, trembling moment, her chest still heaving, tears drying on her flushed cheeks. The guilt was a living thing inside her now, clawing at her ribs, but Jonas’s low, satisfied voice cut through it like warm honey.

“You looked so fucking hot just now, sweetheart,” he murmured, still slowly stroking his half-hard cock. “The way your whole body shook when you came for me… those pretty tits bouncing, that tight little married pussy clenching around your fingers… I could watch you fall apart like that every single night.”

His words sent another unwanted pulse through her core. She hated how easily they pulled her arousal back to the surface, even as shame burned hotter than ever.

Jonas gave his glistening shaft one last lazy stroke, then let it rest heavy against his cum-splattered belly.

“Get me a towel, baby. Top shelf in the master bathroom.”

Jenna rose on shaky legs. Her knees felt weak, her thighs slick with her own wetness. She walked naked across the room, breasts swaying heavily with every step, the cool air kissing her still-throbbing pussy. In the bathroom she found a thick white bath towel hanging on the hook. She stared at her reflection for half a second — flushed face, messy hair, nipples stiff, pussy lips swollen and shiny — and the shame hit her again like a slap.

What am I doing? I’m cleaning up another man’s cum while my husband is waiting for me at home.

She carried the towel back to the bed. Jonas didn’t reach for it. He simply looked up at her, that calm, commanding smile on his face.

“Clean me up for me.”

Jenna’s breath caught. She climbed onto the bed on her knees beside him, the mattress dipping under her weight. The smell hit her immediately — thick, musky, masculine. Jonas’s cum was everywhere: long white ropes streaked across his broad, dark chest, pooled in the soft roundness of his belly, dripping down the sides of his heavy balls and coating the base of his thick cock.

She started near his collarbone, gently wiping downward with the towel. The fabric dragged through the warm, sticky mess, smearing it across his skin before absorbing it. She moved lower, cleaning the heavy splatters from his chest, then his soft, rounded belly. The towel grew heavier, warmer, soaked with his release.

As she worked lower, Jonas’s voice rumbled softly.

“Get it all, sweetheart. Don’t miss any.”

Her hand trembled as the towel moved toward his massive cock. The heavy, glistening shaft lay across his belly, still thick and semi-hard. She wrapped the towel around it carefully, wiping the cum from the veined length. The weight of it — so heavy, so warm even through the fabric — made her shudder. She could feel the thick ridges, the pulsing heat, the sheer size of him against her palm.

Jonas’s large hand reached back and squeezed her bare ass possessively, fingers digging into the soft, full cheek. The sudden, intimate contact made Jenna gasp. Her hand slipped. Her index finger slid through the warm pool of cum still gathered at the base of his cock, coating the digit in thick, sticky white.

She finished quickly, heart pounding, then slid off the bed and hurried to the master closet. Out of Jonas’s sight, she paused at the hamper. The cum-coated finger hovered in front of her face.

The scent hit her again — rich, salty, masculine.

She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut. Then, almost against her will, she touched the tip of her tongue to the warm cum.

It didn’t repulse her.

The taste was salty, slightly bitter, strangely addictive. She licked more, dragging her tongue slowly along the finger, gathering every drop. Her eyes closed tighter as she slid the entire finger into her mouth, sucking it clean with soft, wet sounds.

In her mind she wasn’t sucking her own finger.

She was on her knees in front of Jonas, lips stretched wide around the thick head of his massive black cock, tasting him directly from the source… imagining what it would feel like to have him throb and pulse on her tongue… imagining what it would feel like to swallow every last drop while her husband waited at home.

The guilt was still there — sharp, crushing, devastating.

But the hunger was louder now.

And it was growing.

I know this makes me sound like a villain. Or maybe just a girl who’s gone too far. But I need to say it out loud because the way it turned me on? The way he begged for it? It’s all I can think about.

It started as a game. Dirty talk during sex, little teases like What if I let someone else fuck me better than you? His reaction was electric he’d freeze, then get harder. That look in his eyes, like he was torn between rage and desperation? It made me feel powerful. Like I could push him to the edge and he’d still crawl back for more.

One night, I went out in this ridiculous dress tight, short, the kind that makes men stare. I flirted with this older guy at the bar, all confidence and rough hands. And then, from the bathroom, I texted my boyfriend:

He wants me. Should I?

I expected him to lose it. To tell me no. To fight for me.

Instead, he replied:

Do it.

Two words. That’s all it took.

The sex was filthy fast, rough, no romance. Just me bent over in the backseat of a stranger’s car, thinking about him at home, probably stroking himself like the good little cuck he was becoming.

When I got back, he was silent at first. Just watching me. I sat on the bed and told him everything how big the guy was, how loud I moaned, how good it felt. I wanted to hurt him. To break him.

But he didn’t break. He got hard. And when I kept talking, he came without me even touching him.

That’s when I knew I had him.

Now? I flirt in front of him. I text other men while he watches. I call him my cuck in that quiet, embarrassed voice that makes him whimper. And the power? The way he needs this humiliation as much as I need the control?

I’m addicted.

I know it’s twisted. I know it’s not what relationships are supposed to be.

But he wants it. He begs for it.

And honestly?

So do I.

My bf knows I lost my virginity to my ex (when i was 19 and we dated for a year). He gets weirdly obsessed with the details. How big was he. What positions and like how did I cum. It's kinda weird but I didn't mind it after that.

One night he admits he wants to see us together. Says he's been fantasizing about it for months. I think it's a trap but he keeps bringing it up during sex, asking if I miss my ex's dick while he's inside me. I messaged my ex and asked if he's down to meet me somewhere. He immediately replied and told me that he's down and says he always wondered what I was like now that I'm "more experienced." We set it up at a fast food chain to have dinner. But little did he know that my bf is with me while texting him.

That night then, my ex and i had dinner had a little talk. Then I started asking him questions about his sex life. But i don't know I kinda missed him while talking my bf then arrived at the place. I introduced him to my ex and they just sat down making the atmosphere kinda awkward.. and I told him if we go somewhere to have a drink. They agree and we went to a store to buy some drinks. After that I started to feel something intense cause I know something's gonna happen after. The three of us went somewhere dark and like sit in my bf's car at the back of his pick up. I'm not sure how or what are we talking but i just felt a hand in my thigh, and I start slow, kissing, catching up. It was my ex. I pushed him cause I was scared my bf will catch us. My bf is in the side peeing. So i then suddenly asks my bf what should we do. My ex jokingly suggests that we should do a threesome. I laughed and said that we should go home cause its really late. My bf then laughs at his joke but surprisingly wants it too. He suddenly takes off his clothes, and slowly walking towards me. I did not know what to say but i really felt horny and I also go with it, I stand at the back of the car and undress too as if there is no one seeing us. My ex kisses me first and I make eye contact with my bf while my ex slowly fucks me. I Tell him "he's still bigger than you" which makes my bf groan. My bf loves this, and my ex starts fucking me harder, asking if my bf can fuck me like this. I say no. My bf then joins and puts his dick in my mouth and my ex cums on my stomach. My bf rushes over to fuck me immediately after. He came in like a minute, kept saying "you're mine, you're mine" the whole time. I don't know what happen next after we left. It was really intense to the point I just think it was a dream and the next day i think it never happened.

My ex and I don't talk anymore but my bf still asks if I think about him when we're having sex.

My girlfriend was always accepting towards my kink but refused every bull we found online to finally make it happen.

She was kind of a slut before we met, but turned full good girl when dating me. This was beyond frustrating.

In August she started having a new job and told me about her black co worker who „wants to fuck her so bad“. The only problem: he had a girlfriend.

We still made him part of our sex life. I made her think about him while fucking and voila: most intense orgasm she ever had with me.

She then started to train me. I’m not kidding. Every time I was sucking her toes or she was jerking me off she mentioned him and how he touches her at work when no one watches. That she wears slutty clothes just so that he touches her more. Her ass, her feet, her thighs. I exploded every time.

She wanted to break me. To make her go for him, but I felt bad for his gf.

In march it happened. She called me crying and asked if I would leave her. She gave him a massive head and he fingered her. She confessed she squirted for the first time. Numerous times. I never mentioned to do that and it showed me levels to the game.

Apparently he is really strong and dominant. He turned her around and face fucked her. She said she had to gag like never before. She is such a slut for him.

I was angry, hurt, but masturbated every day to it. I forgave her, but told her to stay away.

Yet every day I was jerking it and asking her questions on the phone.

She even said that she thinks I want it to happen again. I refused, but deep down lied to myself.

In the first week of May I couldn’t take it anymore. I told her to meet him again. He was even more part of our sex life ever since. I even mention his name to initiate sex at this point.

He is just way better in bed and we both know it.

She needed him. And I needed to feel like a cuck ever again.

They met again and she send me this after https://www.reddit.com/r/Cuckold/s/XUq6CVUTgX

Same thing: he fingers her into oblivion and she sucks him off.

Since then I’ve receive numerous videos of him fingering and facefucking her. Of his load on her face which I want to lick up so bad.

His black cock is maybe 6 inches but very thick and I want him to use her as he likes.

He figures I’m a cuck but my girlfriend says I’m only voyeuristic.

I wish he would know the truth of how submissive I am. I want to undress her for him. I want to suck her tors while she sucks his cock. I want to thank him for doing her so well. I want her to ignore me while kissing him.

She belongs under his thick black cock. I belong jerking it to the vids at home.

The best part is: it feels so natural. She can be the slut she wants with him and I can be there to comfort her after.

Oh, and black cock suits her blonde white PAWG body very well.

I do feel sorry for his gf but he started it and now my girlfriend can’t have a sex life without him.

She says she loves how good I am for waiting at home. That I should take care of her after after he fingers her butthole and that I should clean her face.

I just wish I could lick up his cum.

My boyfriend wanted an open relationship so bad. He’s pretty good-looking and kept saying he doesn’t handle monogamy very well and wants more sex and to sleep with other women.

I thought about it for a while and was skeptical at first. But our sex life is really pretty mediocre, so I thought a little new excitement would do us good, and besides, I had a bit of a crush on a good friend and wanted to pursue it.

Six months ago, we took the plunge and opened up our relationship.

I told my best friend about it on Friday of this week and flirted with him a little, and he immediately understood what I wanted. Shortly after, I was kneeling naked in front of him and giving him a blowjob. He pressed my head tightly against him, and since his cock is really thick and long, I could barely breathe, which turned me on so much.

Then he fucked me really hard doggy-style. Before that night, I was on Team “Size Doesn’t Matter,” but he changed my mind on that. It was so hard and intense, and I felt so much more because his cock was so thick and hard and penetrated so deeply.

He has a natural dominance that I’ve never experienced with any other man, and that really turns me on, plus, he has so much stamina. Three or four rounds in one night, each time easily 20 minutes of good, hard sex. I’d never experienced anything like that before.

The next day, I was in pain when I walked, and in the bathroom I saw that my entire neck and upper body were covered in hickies, scratches, and a bite mark, and my ass was still completely red from the hard spanking.

My boyfriend picked me up and looked pretty shocked at how I looked. But it seemed to turn him on too, because during the drive I saw a bulge in his pants.

At home, he immediately ripped my pants off and told me he was going to fuck me so hard that I’d forget about the other guy right away. I thought about turning him down since I was already so sore, but I kind of found it hot. Besides, he comes pretty quickly anyway when he’s that turned on.

He put his cock into me, and I was shocked by how stark the contrast was—how small he felt. In that moment, I knew I wouldn’t be monogamous with him ever again.

He gave it his all to fuck me really well, and it was hot, but nothing compared to the night before with my best friend. After about two minutes, he came, and we cuddled.

The following week, I had sex with three different guys right away, including my best friend. I was basically having sex with different men every day, while my boyfriend kept getting rejected by women and just waited at home, always picking me up like a good boy.

Six months have passed since then, and the dynamic between my boyfriend and me has completely changed. Should I tell you more about it

My boyfriend has always had a secret cuckold kink. We’ve talked about it a lot but never actually done anything… until last month.

We were on a short staycation and he kept bringing up the fantasy. So I decided to surprise him. I matched with a hot guy on Tinder that afternoon and invited him to our hotel. When he arrived, my boyfriend was already sitting in the corner chair like we agreed.

The guy didn’t waste time. He pushed me onto the bed, pulled my dress off and started eating my pussy while my boyfriend watched. I was moaning so loud, looking straight at my boyfriend while another man’s tongue was deep inside me. I came within minutes.

Then the guy flipped me over, put me on all fours facing my boyfriend and fucked me hard from behind. Every thrust made me moan louder. I kept eye contact with my boyfriend and told him how much bigger the guy felt, how deep he was hitting spots he never could. I even told him “Baby, he’s ruining your girlfriend’s pussy…”

My boyfriend was rock hard the whole time, just stroking himself while watching me get absolutely railed. The guy fucked me in multiple positions, choked me, slapped my ass, and called me a dirty little slut while my boyfriend sat there and took it all in.

When the guy was about to cum, I begged him to finish inside me. He groaned and pumped me full while I came again. After he left, I made my boyfriend come over and eat the creampie out of me while I told him how much better it felt.

It was the most intense night we’ve ever had.

Context: I’ve never been actually cuckolded, my wife is hot but low sex drive and it’s really turned me into a sub. She is not into my sub side. She’s always been much more social than me and it’s pretty obvious she’s out of my league looks wise but I’m tall and nice and have a decent job. I’m 32 and she’s 29. We had a great sex life when we met in college and for the first several years of marriage.

In our mid twenties she was working a lot but we still had a pretty good sexual relationship. One week/weekend her boss was in town for meetings, etc. she had told me before that she thought he was attractive and that he was pretty rich. (Smaller company, he was part owner). Late in the week she informed me he wanted to take her out to dinner to discuss the company’s plan for the year. I asked if I would get to go, she said she’d ask.

Saturday rolls around, she said dinner was at like 7 or something but first we were all going out with or usual in town friends to watch college football and drink. She said she still didn’t know if I’d be able to go but she’d ask her boss at the bar. We get to the bar in the early afternoon, each with a change of clothes in the back seat. We drink and hangout like an average Saturday. Her boss gets there around 6, already dressed nice. She never explicitly told me I wasn’t going to dinner. But she left and came back, in a tight long sexy dress. (She has great curves, natural DDs). So it’s like 10 of us in normal Saturday bar clothes and my wife and her boss dressed up sexy. They leave, she says we will meet up later. I’m stuck there at the bar, mostly with her friends, vibes were pretty awkward, and I just get drunk out of jealousy.

A hour or two later she texts to meet them at another bar. We all walk over, my wife and her boss are there. She’s definitely tipsy. He buys everyone multiple rounds of shots and drinks, gets everyone’s tab. She told me how they went to a nice steakhouse and split a bottle of expensive wine. It was probably the most expensive meal she’d had up that point in her life. Eventually my wife says we should all go the club. Everyone else bails so it’s just me, my wife, and her boss waiting in line. I’m still way under dressed. After waiting for like 10 minutes he bails says he is going to sleep. My wife and I take an Uber home. She’s says she really tired and goes right to sleep. I really got the feeling he was hoping I’d bail first and be left alone with my wife late at night (it was probably like 1 am by that point).

I’m sure she was kind of flirty, overly social, as it was her boss but I have no proof anything improper/sexual happened. She’s not at that job anymore and hasn’t talked to the guy in years. But her sex drive has only gone down since then. But that’s the most like a cuck I have ever felt - sitting there getting drunk with her friends as everyone knows she’s dressed up getting dinner with her boss. I’ve jacked off a lot since then picturing her sucking his cock or fucking him while they were gone…

UPDATE Dec 25 - not sure the best way to update on this so I’ll just edit here. Went on a great date with my wife this weekend, cocktails, dinner, bar. We got to talking about the past and how good things are going now. But I was drunk enough to ask her about this night and she said nothing happened but it was disrespectful for her to go out with him like this but she didn’t think we were going to make it. I asked how serious it was and she said it was definitely possible she could’ve divorced me, moved cities and started dating her boss….crazy to hear…I had to hide my hard on… we went back home and fucked. When I was close I told her how hot it was how many guys wanted to fuck her over the years but I was the one inside her. I asked her how many people she knows wanted to fuck her…she said “hundreds”…I came inside her immediately…fuck I’m embarrassing.

My wife 28F and I 29M have finally dabbled in the world of mfm and we are both enjoying it. Took a year to convince her to try it but she loves it. This past weekend was our 2nd ever time doing an mfm. Same guy as our first time last month.

This time he forgot to bring a condom… he realized right as the action was heating up. In the heat of the moment I offered him one of mine that have been lying around in the sock drawer for 3 years. Also admittedly it was a size too small for him.

We had a great time. Of course I held on as long as I could but I still came early. This gave him some 1on1 time to take my thick wife to pound town which she loved. I kinda watched once I finished. I noticed the condom broke after a few minutes, and debated internally if I should say something.

She was enjoying it so much that I held off. He made her O too which was awesome to watch. I wasn’t sure if he would finish inside her or not but he also didn’t notice it broke. Sure enough he did.

She noticed right away something was wrong and looked at me lol. Luckily she’s on birth control so no big deal, i don’t care. When he realized he looked at me and said “oh shit, sorry bro” haha i just said “no worries all good”.

I went to the bathroom with her to clean up and it was hot to see it drip down her inner thigh when she walked. Didn’t have the courage to try to clean up myself. Huge milestone in my cuck journey!

Last part

---

His hand was in her hair. Not rough — firm. He guided her back down and her protest dissolved into a wet, muffled mmphh as the head pushed past her lips and filled her mouth and her eyes went wide and then half-shut and the sound she made around his cock was somewhere between objection and surrender. Glk. Her throat catching. Her jaw stretching open again. Her hand came up to his shaft on instinct — gripping the base, steadying herself — and the vibration of her stifled words hummed through his cock and Ray’s head tipped back and his hand tightened in her hair.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. Quiet. “Keep going, Blondie.”

She did. She took him deeper — slowly, an inch, then another, her tongue pressing flat against the underside of the shaft, feeling the ridge of the vein, the heat of him radiating against the roof of her mouth. Her jaw was stretched to its limit and she was barely past the head. Her hand wrapped the rest of the shaft — her fingers still couldn’t close — and she stroked what her mouth couldn’t reach.

Between her legs, James’s tongue circled her clit, and the sensation shot up through her stomach and she moaned around Ray’s cock. The vibration traveled through the shaft and Ray grunted — a deep, involuntary sound from his chest.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Just like that. Take your time.”

She found a rhythm. Slow. The head sliding past her lips, her tongue working the underside on the down-stroke, her hand twisting on the shaft below her mouth. The taste of him was everywhere — filling her mouth, coating her tongue, the salt and musk of his pre-come leaking against her palate. She breathed through her nose and the smell of him was closer than the taste — sweat and skin and the heavy cologne faded to a ghost, and underneath all of it the warm animal scent of a large man’s body in full arousal.

James between her legs. She could feel his tongue — the familiar rhythm, the thing he’d always done well — and each stroke of it sent a pulse through her that made her moan on Ray’s cock. The vibrations. She could feel Ray responding to them — his hand tightening on her neck, his hips shifting, the shaft swelling in her mouth each time she moaned. She was a circuit between them. James’s mouth on her clit, the pleasure climbing through her body, the moan traveling through Ray’s cock, Ray’s hand guiding her deeper.

She pulled off to breathe. A wet sound — schlp — her lips separating from the head, a thread of spit connecting them, catching the light. Her lips were swollen. Her chin was wet.

She looked up at him through damp lashes. Stroked him slowly with her spit-slick hand.

“You like that?” Soft. A little breathless. The teasing Jenna surfacing through the mess on her face — the girl who knew what she was doing to a man and liked knowing. “You like watching me try to fit this thing in my mouth?”

“You know I do.”

“Mmm.” She kissed the head. Slow. Deliberate. Let her lower lip drag across the slit and came away with a shining thread of pre-come. “It’s so big I can barely breathe.” She said it like a compliment she was offering on her own terms. Then she went back down — deeper this time. The head pushed past the back of her tongue and nudged the entrance to her throat. Her eyes watered. She gagged — glck — a single, convulsive clench — pulled back an inch, breathed, pushed forward again. The head slipped past the resistance and into her throat and the sound she made was wet and thick and obscene.

Ray’s hand gathered her hair. The thick blonde waves disappeared into his fist. He held her — not pushing, not yet, just holding — and let her work.

“Missed this mouth,” he said. Low. Almost conversational, like they were alone, like James wasn’t between her legs three feet below. “Missed you, Blondie. You know how many times I jerked off thinking about this? Your mouth. Those big dark eyes looking up at me. The way you gag and don’t quit.”

James’s tongue found the spot — the flat press against her clit followed by the slow circle — and the pleasure spiked through her and her moan traveled straight down Ray’s shaft. Mmmhhh. Long and helpless and vibrating through the thick cock filling her mouth. She felt Ray’s whole body tense. His hand tightened in her hair and his hips pushed forward and the shaft slid deeper into her throat and she gagged again and the tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and the spit was running freely now — down her chin, dripping onto the couch cushion in long wet strings.

She pulled back just far enough to speak, her lips brushing the head, her hand still stroking.

“You feel that?” Breathy. Almost a whisper. “Every time he licks me I can’t help it — I moan and you get harder in my mouth.” She ran her tongue around the crown, slow, tasting the pre-come. “I can feel you twitching on my tongue when I do that.”

“Keep talking.” His voice was rough.

“Make me.” And she took him back in — shlck — deep, the wet choking sound filling the room, her jaw stretched wide, her throat working around him.

Ray’s hips began to move. Slow. Deliberate. Fucking her mouth with a patience that made it worse — each thrust measured, controlled, pushing to the back of her throat and holding for a beat before withdrawing. His hand in her hair guided the rhythm. Her jaw ached. The spit was everywhere — coating his shaft, her chin, her fingers, running in thin threads between them each time she pulled back for air.

Mmph — mmph — mmph — Each thrust driving a muffled sound out of her, half-moan, half-whimper, the vibrations humming through his shaft as James’s tongue worked her clit below and the pleasure kept spiking and each spike sent another helpless sound through Ray’s cock. Her hips were rolling, grinding against James’s face, and she was drooling and whimpering and making sounds that were wet and desperate and barely human — glk, mmhh, shlp — and they were coming from her own mouth in her own living room and she couldn’t stop any of them.

She pulled off, gasping. A long string of spit hung between her lower lip and the head of his cock. She was panting, her face flushed, tears at the corners, her mouth raw and swollen.

“I can’t stop.” She was looking up at him and her expression was wrecked — open, stunned by her own wanting. Her hand kept stroking, slick and lazy. “It feels so good having you in my mouth while he—” She shivered. James had done something with his tongue. “Fuck. While he does that. I’m going to come like this. I’m going to come with your cock in my mouth.”

She went back down. Shlck. Deep. Like she was proving it to herself.

From between her legs, James heard everything.

His tongue on her clit. His hands on her thighs. The wet sounds of his wife’s mouth above him — the slick pop when she pulled off the head, the thick guhk when she took him deep, the muffled nnh when James’s tongue hit right. Ray’s voice, low, crude, proprietary. Jenna’s whimpers vibrating through the thick shaft in her mouth, muffled and desperate. The couch creaking as Ray’s hips worked. The sound of his wife choking on another man’s cock in their living room.

He could taste how aroused she was. Drenched. Flooding. The taste sharper and more abundant than he’d ever known it — tangy, musky, the taste that meant she was past thinking. It coated his tongue, his chin, running down his jaw. The arousal was pouring out of her and it was not for him. It was for the man whose cock was in her mouth, and the taste of his wife wanting someone else was the most devastating thing James had ever put in his mouth and he pressed his tongue harder against her clit because stopping was not something his body would allow.

Above him, Jenna gagged and moaned and Ray’s hand tightened in her hair and someone whispered fuck.

 

Ray’s hands moved her.

Not a discussion. Not appealing to the “stag”, not the theatrical collaboration. His hands on her body, reshaping the scene. He was taking control.

“Up on your knees, Blondie.” His hand under her arm, lifting. “Come here. Hands and knees.”

She rose — pulling off his cock with a wet gasp, spit trailing from her lips. James’s mouth lost contact with her. She was on her knees on the couch beside Ray, unsteady, and Ray’s hands were guiding her — one palm on her hip, one between her shoulder blades, pressing gently downward.

“Right here.” His hand eased her down. “Head in my lap. Ass up.”

She went. Her elbows found the cushion on either side of Ray’s thighs. Her face was in his lap, his cock against her cheek — hot, slick with her spit, the heavy vein pulsing against her jaw. Her back sloped down from her shoulders and then curved up sharply at her hips — the red dress bunched at her waist, the white g-string a thin damp line, the full round curve of her ass rising above her arched back. Her knees were spread on the cushion behind her. Open. Presented.

James was kneeling at the edge of the couch. His wife’s legs were no longer spread for him. Her back was to him. Her hips were angled toward Ray, and the sounds she was making — she’d already turned her head and taken Ray back into her mouth, her lips stretching around the head, a muffled moan as he slid past her tongue — those sounds were for Ray’s cock. Not for James.

He could rejoin. His right hand moved — toward her hip, the bunched red fabric, the curve of her ass. His fingers reached the dress. Touched it. The warm fabric under his fingertips, his wife’s body underneath, close enough that if he slid his hand six inches he’d be touching her skin and he’d be in this instead of kneeling outside it.

His hand stayed on the fabric. He could feel her hips rocking — the motion traveling through the dress into his fingers as she pushed back, adjusting, her mouth working Ray’s cock. She didn’t know his hand was there. She didn’t know he was deciding.

He pulled his hand back.

Because from here — from his knees, looking up — he could see everything.

Jenna’s throat working. The muscles of her neck flexing as she took Ray deeper — the slow, steady push, her jaw stretched wide, a strand of spit running from the corner of her mouth. Ray’s thick hand gathered her blonde hair into a fist and held it and she moaned around his shaft and the sound was wet and muffled and desperate. The spit connecting them in threads when she pulled back for air — thin, glistening, catching the light. Her lips swollen and raw, her dark eyes watering, her chin slick. Her husband’s wife with her mouth stretched around a cock that was thicker than James’s wrist.

The view was better than touching her. The watching was better than participating. He knew it the way you know something your body has decided without consulting you.

He didn’t choose the armchair. His body chose it. He stood. His knees ached from the carpet. The armchair was behind him — three feet back, higher, angled toward the couch. From there he’d see all of it — her profile, her mouth, the arch of her back, the curve of her ass rising behind her. He sat down.

Three feet. The distance between touching and watching. Between co-author and audience.

Ray’s eyes found him over Jenna’s head. Just for a second. The small eyes meeting his across the blonde hair gathered in his fist. Not surprise. Not triumph. Something quieter. A look that said there it is — the confirmation of something Ray had known since the first text, since the conference, since the recording. James was in the chair. Ray gave the smallest nod — barely a movement, just a dip of his chin — and turned his attention back to the woman on his cock. The exchange had lasted two seconds. Jenna hadn’t seen it. It was the most humiliating moment of James’s life and his cock throbbed so hard against his pants he almost came.

His hands found the armrests. He gripped. The leather creaked under his fingers. His breath was shallow and fast and he could hear his own pulse and he could hear his wife gagging three feet away and he was sitting in his chair with his hands on the armrests doing nothing.

He didn’t touch himself. He watched. Jenna on her hands and knees on their couch, ass up, face buried in Ray’s lap. The wet sounds of her mouth. The soft choking. The moans that vibrated through Ray’s cock and made the bigger man’s eyes close and his hand tighten in her hair.

Ray hadn’t needed to say a word. The frame had closed around two people and James was outside it and his own legs had carried him here and his own hands had chosen the armrests instead of his wife’s body and the hardness in his pants was the only answer anyone would ever need about what kind of man he was.

 

Jenna shifted on the couch. Deeper into the position — elbows down, chest pressed to the cushion, the angle steeper, her ass rising higher behind her. Her mouth on Ray, the blowjob steadier now, a rhythm she’d found that worked. His hand on the back of her neck, guiding — gentle pressure down, then release, letting her breathe, then pressure again and she took him deep, the head in her throat, and held him there until her eyes watered and she pulled back gasping and went right back down.

She was drooling. Long wet strings hanging from her chin to the cushion, the sounds slick and obscene. The kind of sounds she associated with pornography. They were coming from her own mouth.

Ray’s free hand moved to her ass.

He palmed it. One cheek first — his enormous hand covering the entire curve, his thick fingers spreading across the round firmness of it, the size of his hand against her body making her look small. He squeezed. Then both hands — he let go of her hair and palmed both cheeks, his hands engulfing her, spreading her, the thick rough fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulled the g-string aside with one finger. Casual. Like moving a curtain.

His fingers traced. The outer lips first — swollen, slick, the wetness abundant and visible, coating his fingertips instantly. He dragged one thick finger through the slickness. Gathered it. She moaned around his cock — a shuddering, muffled sound, her hips pushing back against his hand.

Then up. Along the cleft. Slowly. His slick finger tracing the line between her cheeks, leaving a wet trail on the smooth skin, moving upward until the pad of his finger rested against the tight pucker of her asshole.

She clenched. Her whole body tightened — thighs, stomach, the ring of muscle contracting hard against the pressure of his fingertip.

“What about here, Blondie?” Low. Easy. Confident. The voice of a man who took.

A sound escaped her — muffled by his cock, somewhere between a moan and a protest. She pulled off him, spit trailing from her lips.

“Wait—” Her voice was small. Breathless. “I’ve never—”

“Its ok, shh…” His finger didn’t move. Just rested there — steady, patient, the thick pad of it pressing against the tight heat. His other hand moved to the small of her back. “Relax. Easy.” His voice dropped. Almost tender. “Let me, Blondie. I’m not going to hurt you. Just let me.”

She buried her face in his thigh. Her breathing was fast and shallow and she was trembling — not from cold, not from fear, from the wanting that had cracked her open and the last boundary standing in its way.

His finger pressed. Steady. Patient. Reading the resistance — the clench, the hold, her body’s reflexive no. He waited. His thumb stroked the curve of her ass — slow, soothing, a counterpoint to the pressure.

She exhaled. Something in her released. The muscle softened. And his finger — thick, slick with her wetness — breached the ring.

She gasped. Her mouth found his cock again and the sound she made around it was high and sharp and shocked — surprise and something else, something electric that shot from the point of entry through her pelvis and arrived between her legs as a clench so hard her thighs shook. Her moan vibrated through his shaft and Ray’s eyes closed and he grunted.

“Good girl.” Low. A near-whisper. He held his finger there — just the first knuckle, just enough — and let her body adjust. She was panting through her nose, her breath hot against his thigh. Her hips made a tiny, involuntary movement — pushing back. Onto his finger. Wanting more of the thing she’d said wait to.

He held. Patient. Then withdrew, slowly — she whimpered at the loss — and pressed back in, slightly deeper, and her body opened for him with a willingness that surprised them both.

“Good girl,” he said again. And withdrew. Rested his hand on her ass. The wet print of his finger glistening between her cheeks.

James was in the armchair.

He’d watched everything. Three feet away, front-row sightline, his hands white-knuckled on the armrests.

He’d seen Ray’s thick finger — rough, calloused, the knuckle wider than anything that had ever touched that part of her — pressing against the tight pink pucker of his wife’s asshole. He’d seen the muscle clench and resist. He’d seen Jenna bury her face in Ray’s thigh. He’d heard Ray’s voice — relax, easy, let me — low and coaxing. He’d watched the resistance dissolve. He’d watched the finger breach the tight ring — pink, impossibly small against the width of Ray’s knuckle — and slide inside. He’d seen her hips push back onto it. Wanting it.

He’d tried this. In the early years. In the dark, tentative, hopeful — his hand sliding south under the covers, a finger grazing the spot. Every time: she’d swatted his hand away. Don’t. No. That’s too much. Too dirty. Too depraved. Something other people did. He’d stopped asking years ago.

And now. His wife on her hands and knees on their couch, the red dress bunched at her waist, her face in Ray Vogler’s lap, his cock in her mouth, and Ray’s thick finger in the place she’d never let James touch. Her hips had pushed back. She had wanted it. From a man she filed an HR complaint against. In their living room.

James’s hand was on the armrest. His knuckles were white. His cock was so hard it hurt and his vision was blurred and he could not look away.

Ray straightened. Casual. Matter-of-fact. He looked at James in the armchair.

The small eyes above the ruddy cheeks. The florid face, the heavy brow, the mouth slack with satisfaction. He looked at James the way a man looks at someone who has confirmed everything he suspected.

“Your wife has the most incredible ass I’ve ever seen, James.” He rested his palm on the full round curve, proprietary. “You’re a lucky man.”

 

She sat up. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Mascara smudged under her eyes from the gagging, spit shining on her chin, her lips swollen and dark. Her hair was wrecked — the thick blonde waves matted and damp at the nape where sweat had gathered. The red dress was bunched at her waist, breasts bare, nipples stiff from Ray working them. She was breathing through her nose in quick, shallow pulls.

She looked at James in the armchair.

Then at Ray. His cock standing from his lap, thick and flushed and slick with her spit, the swollen head glistening.

Then at James again.

Something moved across her face. Not hesitation, exactly — the real Jenna surfacing for a breath. The Jenna who makes hand-rolled pasta and speaks gentle Spanish to her mother and files HR complaints against men who comment on her body. That Jenna looked at her husband from her hands and knees on the couch with her mouth raw from another man’s cock, and the question she was asking wasn’t should I. It was are we really doing this.

James didn’t nod. Didn’t speak. His knuckles were white on the armrests and his pants were tented and his face held the expression she recognized from the dark — the look he wore when she whispered the filthiest things about Ray against his ear. The look that said yes without saying anything at all.

“Condoms,” she said. Her voice was hoarse from the gagging. “Upstairs. Nightstand.”

James stood. His legs worked. He went upstairs.

She heard his footsteps on the stairs. The creak of the third step. Then quiet — just her breathing and Ray’s breathing and the ceiling fan turning above them. She was naked on the couch, and her husband was upstairs getting condoms for another man, and the clarity of that fact sat in the air for exactly long enough to be terrible before Ray’s hand found the back of her neck and his thumb stroked the damp skin there and the clarity went soft at the edges and dissolved.

For James, the walk to the bedroom. Ninety seconds that cracked open like a gap between floors. The hallway was quiet. The bedroom was quiet. The bed was made. The duvet smoothed, the pillows arranged. The nightstand drawer held the same condoms they’d been using since forever.

He opened the drawer. His brand. Extra-tight. Fuck. He took the box.

Halfway down the stairs, he heard something. Jenna — a sound between a laugh and a gasp. Breathless, surprised, the sound of a woman being touched by someone who was making her body do things her voice couldn’t keep up with. He hadn’t heard that sound from her in years. Not since the early days when everything was new and every touch was discovery. He stopped on the stairs for two full seconds. Then he kept going.

When he reached the living room.

The red dress was on the floor by the couch. The g-string beside it. Jenna was naked on Ray’s lap — her back against his chest, her legs parted over his thick thighs, her head tipped back against his shoulder. One of Ray’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his enormous hand covering her breast, the pale flesh spilling between his thick fingers. His other hand was between her legs — not inside her, his palm pressed flat against her mound, his middle finger tracing slow, deliberate circles. She was rocking against his hand. Her hips making small, helpless rolls. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted and her back was arching into the pressure and behind her, between her spread thighs, Ray’s bare cock pressed against her from underneath — the thick shaft lying along the length of her slit, the head protruding past her, glistening. The full measure of him pressed against her bare skin.

She was grinding on him. The slick, swollen lips of her pussy dragging along the shaft, coating him, the wetness visible where they met. The size of her body against his — her narrow waist bracketed by his thick arms, her smooth fair skin against the ruddy, damp expanse of his chest. She looked small. She looked swallowed.

James stood in the archway. The box in his hand.

“Come on in, James.” Ray’s voice was easy. Unhurried. The man wasn’t even out of breath. “She’s been keeping me warm.”

Jenna’s eyes opened. She looked at James. Her pupils were blown so wide the dark of her iris had vanished. She reached for the box.

Their fingers touched on the cardboard. She held his gaze for a half-second — glassy, far away, but still in there. Still Jenna. Then she turned to Ray.

She tore a foil packet. Ray lifted her off his lap — easy, one arm — and she knelt on the couch beside him and took his cock in her hand. Gripped the base. Rolled the condom down.

The latex stretched. Went translucent at the head, the material thinning until the dark flush of his skin showed through. The extra-tight ring inched down the shaft with visible strain — she was using both hands, pushing, and the seams appeared where the condom was reaching its limit. The brand that had fit James for seven years barely cleared the widest point of Ray’s head. She kept pushing. The ring crept toward the base, the tip bulging where the swollen head filled it past capacity.

“Not sure that’s not going to last,” Ray said. Flat. Not a complaint.

“It’s what we have.” Her hand smoothed the latex. It sat on him like a skin a size too small — tight, straining, a demonstration of what extra-tight meant on a cock that existed outside the range.

She lay back. Legs parted. Her body open for him on the couch. Her body was flushed from her chest to her hairline, nipples dark and swollen, a thin sheen of sweat in the hollow of her throat. Between her legs: swollen, pink, slick. Wet enough that the light caught it.

Ray settled between her thighs. The weight of him pressing the cushion flat. He lined the head against her entrance — blunt, wide, the latex stretched drum-tight over the swollen tip — and pushed.

The head spread her open.

She felt every millimeter. The ring of muscle at her entrance stretching around the crown — slow, insistent, her body resisting and yielding in the same breath. The width of him. She’d forgotten how wide. The condom compressed the girth but couldn’t reduce it, and the stretch bloomed outward from the point of entry through her thighs, her lower belly, the base of her spine.

“Oh —” She gripped the couch cushion. Her knuckles white. “Oh, fuck —”

“Breathe.” Ray held still. Just the head inside her. She could feel it filling her entrance completely — enormous, the latex-muted tip pressing against her walls in every direction. Her body clenched around it, released, clenched again. Learning it.

“Open up for me, Blondie.” Low. His arms braced on either side of her, the cords of his neck taut with the effort of holding still. “Just like the hotel.”

She exhaled. Her body softened. He pushed deeper.

The shaft slid into her — thick, relentless, the condom’s friction dragging against her walls as inch after inch filled her. She moaned. Long, from her chest, a sound she felt in her sternum. The depth kept coming. She remembered this — the hotel had carved a groove in her body’s memory and he was sliding back into it. The stretch was still enormous but her body knew what to do with it now. It opened. It pulled. It wanted.

He bottomed out. His hips flush against hers, his full weight settling into the cradle of her pelvis. She felt the head pressing against her cervix through the thin latex, the base spreading her entrance wide, his coarse hair scratching against her clit. Full. So full she could feel her own heartbeat around him.

“God —” she breathed. Her eyes were closed. Her hands had found his shoulders — thick, dense, slick with the sweat already building. “You’re so deep. I forgot how —”

“I know.” He drew his hips back. The withdrawal dragged the ridge of the head along her front wall and she gasped and her hips bucked. He drove back in. One long stroke. The couch creaked.

“Fuck —” She was gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. “More. Don’t stop.”

He gave her more. His rhythm found its gear — steady, deep, each stroke bottoming out with a pressure that punched the breath from her lungs and curled her toes. The condom’s texture was wrong — muted, the friction dulled — and some part of her registered it the way you register a window between you and a view. She could feel him but she couldn’t feel him. Her body remembered bare. The hotel had taught it the difference and the lesson was sitting under the latex like heat under glass.

“You’re even tighter than the hotel, Blondie.” Ray’s voice above her, strained, his hips working. “Squeezing me through the rubber. I can feel your cunt trying to pull it off me.” He adjusted the angle — gripped the back of her thigh, pushed her knee toward her shoulder — and the head found a new depth that made her vision swim. “Should see yourself right now. The way your body takes this. Should’ve worn that black lace for me — the anniversary one he bought you —”

He grunted. Shifted the angle. Drove deeper and her back arched and whatever he’d been saying dissolved into the sound she was making. Something in the last sentence — a word, a shape — snagged in her like a thread catching on a nail. The anniversary one. How did he — but the thought was already gone, the thrust driving it out of her, and the wrongness of it sank below the surface where she couldn’t reach it and wouldn’t look for it until much later.

He picked up her legs. Both ankles in one hand, pushed them toward her chest, folding her. The angle steepened. He drove harder — the couch protesting, her breasts bouncing, the wet sound of latex inside her getting louder.

“I’m going to flip you.” He pulled back. The withdrawal was slow — she whimpered, her hips chasing him — and the condom came with him in pieces.

Shredded. The latex torn at the base where the ring had been straining since she’d rolled it on. The remnants hung in strips from the shaft, translucent, useless. The head emerged bare — flushed, swollen, glistening with her wetness.

“Shit.” Jenna sat up. Stared at his cock. At the ruined condom. “Shit — the condom broke.”

They all looked at it. The tattered latex. Ray’s bare cock, slick and dark and very much not covered.

“Give me another one.” Jenna reached for the box on the coffee table. Her hands weren’t steady. She tore a second packet.

She gripped his shaft — the heat of his bare skin against her palm for the first time since the hotel — and positioned the condom over the head. Pushed the ring down. It barely cleared the crown, the latex stretching, going white at the edges. She pushed harder.

The seam split. A clean rip along the side, the ring springing open, the material shredding before it even reached the shaft.

She was holding two pieces of a useless condom.

Silence. Jenna looked at the torn latex in her fingers. At Ray’s cock, bare in her fist. At the box on the coffee table.

She looked at James in the armchair. His hands were white on the armrests. His face held the expression from the bedroom — the one he wore when she whispered the worst things about Ray in the dark. The expression that was permission and agony in the same look.

Her body was throbbing. She could feel her pulse between her legs — swollen, aching, the half-orgasm from the condom sex sitting in her like a held breath. Every nerve below her waist demanding continuation.

She looked at Ray’s cock in her hand. Felt the heat of it. The throb of his pulse under her fingers.

“I’m nowhere near my window.” Her voice was low. Thick. She wasn’t looking at his face — she was looking at where her hand wrapped around the bare shaft, her fingers not closing, the slick head dark and swollen above her grip. “Not even close.”

She pulled him toward her. Guided the head between her thighs. Pressed the tip against her entrance and felt the heat — bare, scalding, skin against skin.

“Put it back in me.”

The crudest thing she’d ever said outside the dark of her bedroom. The filthy talk with James — he was bare inside me, James, I could feel everything — had been rehearsal for this sentence and she hadn’t known it.

Ray pushed in.

 

The head spread her open and her world changed.

The latex was gone. What replaced it was him. The raw, living heat of his skin pressing into hers — not through a barrier, not muted, not compressed. Direct. Every nerve ending firing at full signal for the first time since the hotel.

She remembered. Her body remembered. But at the hotel everything was chaos — the condom had broken and adrenaline was flooding her system and her mind was spinning too fast to register what bare actually felt like. She’d been overwhelmed. Processing. Ten things at once.

This time she chose it. This time her mind was quiet enough to feel everything.

The head pushed past her entrance and the sensation bloomed through her — the ridged texture of the corona dragging against her walls, the velvet heat of his shaft’s skin sliding through her without the latex’s friction, the slick glide of her own wetness coating him. Smoother than the condom. Hotter. The sensation of skin against her inner walls was so intimate it made her stomach flip.

“Oh my god —” Her voice cracked. “Oh — I can feel — it’s so different without —”

“I know.” He pushed deeper. The shaft thick and bare and pulsing with his heartbeat, and she could feel the pulse — actually feel it, the rhythmic throb transmitted through his skin into hers. The condom had hidden this. “I can feel how wet you are. Soaking my cock. No latex in the way — just you.”

She whimpered. Small, high, from the back of her throat. The sound of a woman overwhelmed by pleasure she’d been trying not to want.

He buried himself to the base. The full length — bare, hot, every inch of skin seated inside her. The head pressed against her cervix with a direct contact that sent a pulse radiating through her pelvis, through her hip bones, down the backs of her thighs. She could feel his pre-come leaking against her cervix — hot, thin, mixing with her own slickness. She could feel his coarse hair scratching against her swollen clit. Everything at full volume. Everything real.

The sound was different. When he drew back and pushed in again, the noise that came from between their bodies was louder than the condom — wetter, thicker. A slick, sucking squelch — her body gripping bare skin and releasing it. She could hear herself. She could hear how wet she was. The sound filled the room.

“Listen to that.” Ray’s voice was rough. He thrust again — slow, deliberate, dragging the bare head along her front wall. The thick squelch on the push in. The wet, sucking sound when he pulled back — the sound of soaked skin separating, her arousal stringing between them. “Hear that? That’s you, Blondie. That’s what bare sounds like.”

She was past embarrassment. Past the point where the sound of her own body could reach the part of her that cared. She was rocking her hips up to meet him, pulling him deeper, and every bare stroke was delivering sensation the condom had been stealing from her and her body was greedy for the repayment.

The orgasm built fast. The bare skin, the heat, the depth — her body had been on the edge since the condom sex and the difference in sensation tipped her over. Something behind her navel tightened and released — a rolling wave that spread through her thighs, her spine, her scalp. She clenched around him and the sensation of gripping his bare cock through the contraction was a thing she could never unknow. She could feel every ridge, the throb of his pulse, the twitch of his cock responding to her squeezing. She moaned — long, deep, her face turning into the cushion — and rode it out with her hips still moving, still pulling him into her.

“That’s one.” Ray held deep inside her. Let her feel it — his bare cock seated inside her through the aftershocks. “We’re going to get a lot more than one tonight.”

He pulled out. The emptiness hit her like cold water — her body clenching around nothing, the cool air on her swollen, slick flesh. She heard herself make a sound of protest. Involuntary. A whimper at the loss.

“Turn over.” He tapped her hip. “Hands and knees.”

She turned. Hands on the arm of the couch, knees on the cushion. Her back arching into the position automatically — muscle memory from the hotel, from describing this to James in the dark. She could feel the air on everything. The swollen lips of her pussy, slick and open. The cool line where his pre-come was already trickling down between her cheeks.

---

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We were visiting my boyfriend’s uncle in Florida for the weekendlet’s call him Juan. 48, ex-military, divorced, and in insane shape. His house? Huge, with a pool, total bachelor pad vibes. The Florida heat was killing me, so when Juan suggested we jump in, I didn’t hesitate.

We took a couple of shots, then another, and before I knew it, we were all in the pool music blasting, drinks flowing, just vibes. My boyfriend and I started play-fighting, and my top slipped boob out. I laughed and tried to fix it, but my boyfriend teased, “Don’t be shy, Juan hasn’t seen tits in years. Flash him.”

So I did.

Juan swam closer, grabbed them, and motorboated me before sucking on my nipples like he was starving. My boyfriend kissed me mid-makeout, and I was soaked not just from the pool.

Juan got out to cool off (yeah, right), and my boyfriend kept teasing him about being hard. Prove it, he dared. So I reached over, grabbed his bulge, and yep rock solid. I squeezed, smirked, and said, Confirm. He’s hard.

We dried off, but the teasing didn’t stop. My boyfriend told me to flash Juan again. This time, Juan didn’t just look he stood in front of me, his cock right in my face. I grabbed it, and when he pulled it out, my boyfriend pushed my head down.

Next thing I knew, I was on my knees sucking Juan off by the pool.

We moved to the living room, where he bent me over and fucked me like he owned me pulling my hair, smacking my ass, calling me a slut while he pounded me. When he came, he groaned, “You fucking bitch,” and filled me up, his grip on my hips bruising.

I started to get up, but my boyfriend pushed me back down. “You’re not done,” he said, spreading my ass and eating me out while I rubbed my clit, moaning like a whore. Just as I was about to come, my boyfriend slammed into me and I squirting all over his cock. He came right after.

Best. Weekend. Ever.

Now tell me who else has had a “dare” go this far?

I finally agreed to the threesome after months of Alex begging like a desperate little bitch. He really  thought he was so slick… always showing me videos of girls getting double-teamed and whispering how hot it would be to watch another guy fuck me while he joined in. Pathetic. My bestie Jess saw straight through his cuck energy the second I told her. 

“He doesn’t want a threesome, babe. He wants to get cucked hard. Let’s ruin him.”

So that’s exactly what we did.

I dressed like a total slut for the night: sheer black crotchless lingerie that left my shaved pussy completely exposed and my tits were spilling out of the flimsy top. I wore sky-high heels that made my ass look obscene. When the knock came, Alex was waiting eagerly in the living room.

I opened the door with a wicked grin.

Damien and Jax stepped inside. They were two hung, dominant studs that Jess knew. Damien had a thick, veiny 9 and a half inch monster and Jax was even bigger, a heavy 10-inch beast with low-hanging balls that looked full of thick cum, if Jess could be believed. Both of them were ripped and radiating pure alpha energy.

Alex’s face instantly twisted in shock. “Sarah… what the fuck? You said one guy!”

I turned to him slowly, my voice dripping with sweet venom. “No, I didn’t. I said a threesome. You wanted to watch me get fucked by another man, right baby? Well I upgraded. Jess helped me pick two real cocks. Tonight you’re not participating. You’re just the pathetic cuck audience.”

Before he could whine, Damien grabbed me roughly by the throat and slammed his mouth against mine. His tongue invading deep while his other hand shoved two thick fingers straight into my already dripping cunt. I moaned like a whore into his mouth as Jax came up behind me, yanking my lingerie aside and spreading my ass cheeks. His hot tongue immediately dragged along my cheeks, all the way up to my tight asshole, rimming me sloppily while Damien finger-fucked me hard.

“Fuck, she’s soaked already,” Jax growled. “This slut’s pussy is throbbing for us.”

They dragged me right in front of Alex, so close he could see every detail. Damien shoved me down onto my knees and slapped his heavy cock across my face. He hit me hard, leaving wet precum streaks on my cheeks and lips. I opened wide like a greedy cockslut, and he immediately rammed his thick shaft down my throat, making me gag and choke as spit poured from the corners of my mouth.

At the same time, Jax kneeled behind me, lined up his massive cock with my dripping hole, and slid in, balls-deep in one long brutal thrust. My eyes rolled back as my pussy stretched painfully around his girth.

“Fuuuuck yes!” I screamed around Damien’s cock. “He’s so much thicker than you, Alex. I can feel him rearranging my guts!”

Jax started pounding me like a cheap fucktoy, his heavy balls slapping loudly against my clit with every violent thrust. Wet, obscene squelching sounds filled the room as he destroyed my cunt. Damien fucked my throat just as hard, using my face like a toy, his balls smacking my chin while thick ropes of spit dripped onto my swaying tits.

They switched. Jax pulled out of my pussy with a wet pop and forced his cock, glistening with my juices, straight into my mouth. I tasted myself on him as Damien mounted me from behind and rammed into my sopping wet hole.

“God, your girlfriend’s pussy is gripping me so tight,” Damien laughed, looking straight at Alex. “I guess that’s to be expected after years of your tiny dick.”

I pulled off Jax’s cock just long enough to moan at my husband, eyes glazed with lust:

“Look at me, Alex. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Watch them ruin me. Their cocks are stretching me so good. I’m never going to be satisfied with your pathetic little prick again.”

They flipped me onto my back on the rug, legs spread obscenely wide. Jax drove his massive cock back into my pussy, pounding me so deep I could feel him hitting my cervix. Damien straddled my chest, shoved his dick between my tits, and started fucking them hard while slapping my face with the head.

After a while, Jax pulled out and pressed his huge cock against my asshole. With no mercy he pushed forward, forcing every thick inch into my tight ass in one long, burning stroke. I screamed in pure pleasure and pain as he buried himself balls-deep in my asshole. Damien positioned himself to slam back into my gaping pussy.

Double penetrated and stuffed completely full, I lost it. They fucked both my holes in perfect rhythm. Hard, deep, merciless strokes that made my whole body jolt. My tits bounced wildly, pussy and ass making wet, obscene sounds around their pistoning cocks.

“Cum for us, you dirty married whore,” Damien growled.

I exploded. My orgasm hit like a freight train. My pussy was squirting violently around Damien’s cock and my asshole clenched and spasmed on Jax as I screamed loud enough for the whole street to hear.

They didn’t stop though. They kept destroying me through my orgasm until they were ready.

Both studs pulled out and stood over me, stroking their massive, throbbing cocks. I dropped to my knees like an eager cumdump, tongue hanging out, eyes locked on Alex the entire time.

“Cover me,” I begged breathlessly. “Paint your girlfriend’s slut face and tits with your superior cum while my worthless cuck husband watches.”

Thick, powerful ropes erupted. Damien blasted the first huge load straight into my open mouth, filling it until it overflowed and ran down my chin. Jax hosed my tits and face with jet after jet of hot, sticky semen, glazing me like a pornstar. I swallowed what I could, then used my fingers to scoop the rest off my cum-covered tits and licked them clean, moaning sluttily at the taste.

When they were done, I crawled over to Alex on my hands and knees, my face, hair, and chest absolutely painted in thick layers of another man’s cum, my pussy and asshole red, swollen, and gaping.

I looked up at him with a cruel, satisfied smile, cum still dripping from my lips.

My gf loves and enjoys her vibrator more than me

We both are in our early 20s

So, I've been dating my girlfriend for around 2 years we are in a very happy relationship together we enjoy a lot to very happy stuffs and enjoy or surroundings and environment

We use to go hotel rooms for our private time but we never had sex together because she told me that she wants to have sex only after marriage and I agreed with this but yes she lets me to rub her clit area with my fingers but she never touched my d\*ck easily but after saying sometimes she does from over my pants

On our 1st year anniversary I gifted her a vibrator soo that she could enjoy more but she can't take it at home soo eventually whenever we go hotel I take it with me so the first time she was very hesitant to use that vibrator

Now whenever we meet at hotel room she herself asks for the vibrator after me cuddle she told me she wants vibrator and i should give her space and do not distrib her at that time let her enjoy her time

She told me that I should jerk beside her while she is using that vibrator and moaning beside me her legs shaking too beside me and she tolds me to jerk watching her and laying beside her she says she enjoys a lot when she uses the vibrator and i am jerking right beside her she uses it for around 5-6 rounds and now she always ask for that when i say let me do it for you i can help you with my fingers she says no to me and ask for vibrator again and as i love her soo much i give that to her and she really enjoys that

So tell me what's going on here will it get upgrad in future or she will get okay with it and later on will things become normal again ?

On this night after Oregon beat JMU in the first round playoffs, we attended and after game social event for alumni. When I was there, my husband asked if we wanted to fool around a little bit and have fun.

He said you’ll stand at the bar and he liked to watch me go and flirt with some random guys. Maybe dance a little bit, grind on them, kinda like for his hot wife kink.

I was at the bar about three stools down and some guy approached me. I was wearing white leggings, brown ankle boots, and my yellow Oregon duck sweater. He came up and started small talk with me and I was laughing with him laughing at his jokes and he asked to buy me a drink and I accepted.

A song came on and he asked me if I wanted to dance and I said sure. So we went out to the dance floor and I noticed he was kind of handsy. He had his hand on a small in my back and he was trying to inch down to my ass.

I let him touch my ass a little bit and we did a fast dance then a second song came on he asked why I wanted to dance again and I said yes

It was kind of slow so he grabbed me put his hands around my waist and I put my arms around his neck and shoulder. I glanced over at my husband, and he was grinning and gave me a smirk.

As we’re dancing, his hands made his way down to my ass and he was grabbing it and I just let him and his other hand reached around toward my front. I think he was going for my kitty but I put my hand and blocked him.

He whispered “sorry.” I slowly turned around and began to grind my ass on his crotch. I could feel his cock getting hard through his pants

After the dance was over, he asked if we wanted to go outside to the parking lot. I said “no”and that I had to go because my husband was waiting for me.

His face went blank as I walked away. My husband was mesmerized. He was totally turned on. He grabbed my hand, and we went out to the car. As we drove off the parking lot, I could feel that his cock was rock-hard.

I unzipped his pants and began to blow him all the way to our hotel. When we got to the hotel, he pulled off my leggings, bent me over the table and started smacking my ass. He pulled off my thong and took me to the bed.

We started making out and then I got on all fours and he began to plow me doggy style . He was super horny and just pounded the shit out of me. I was getting railed big time. I must’ve came four or five times during that sex session.

Audio

19F here and I genuinely don’t know if I’m overthinking or if I accidentally changed the vibe.

There’s this guy friend I’ve been close to for awhile. At first it was super chill — sending dumb memes, complaining about school/work, randomly asking if the other person ate yet. Very normal friendship. But recently I started noticing small things and now I cannot unnotice them. Like he’ll wait for me after class even when he doesn’t have to. Or he somehow remembers random things I mention once and brings them up weeks later. One time I casually said I was craving fries and this man randomly showed up with fries when we met 😭 The problem is I think I accidentally made things weird because one of our friends joked that we “act like a couple” and now suddenly we’re both awkward???

Like the teasing is still there but now got this strange tension also. We still text every day but sometimes there’ll be these random pauses where it feels like someone wants to say something but doesn’t.

I actually cannot tell if I’m imagining this or if something changed.

I (f22) had known Jake for almost as long as I had known my husband. He was my tall, loud, athletic best friend I used to laugh at when he tried to talk to girls . We used to joke about how big he was everywhere after that one beach trip where his swim trunks left very little to the imagination. I would catch myself staring sometimes, then feel guilty and push the thought away.

My husband (m28), Chris, was the love of my life. Sweet, attentive and safe. But safe does not always light the same fire.
It started one drunk night after the three of us had been hanging out. Chris and I were in bed when he suddenly confessed, his voice shaky with arousal. “I get hard thinking about you and Jake. Like, him actually fucking you.” I thought he was joking at first. But the way his cock throbbed against my thigh told me he was serious.

From that night on, it became our dirty little secret. He would fuck me while whispering about Jake stretching me open, how I would look with a bigger cock inside me, how hot it would be to watch.
The teasing went on for months. Flirty texts, lingering hugs when Jake came over, me accidentally wearing tighter clothes around him. Chris loved every second of it. One evening when Chris was working late, I finally did it. I texted Jake: “Come over. Chris knows and he wants this.” Jake showed up twenty minutes later, confused but clearly excited.

Chris had already hidden in our walk-in closet with the door cracked open, phone recording, stroking himself. I left the bedroom lights on bright so he would not miss anything.
Jake did not waste time. The second the door closed he grabbed me, kissing me like he had been waiting years for this. His hands were rougher than Chris’s, bigger, more demanding. He stripped me fast and bent me over the edge of our marital bed. The same bed I slept in every night with my husband. When he pulled his cock out, I actually whispered “holy fuck.” He was noticeably thicker and longer, heavy in my hand.

He pushed inside me slowly at first, letting me feel every inch. I moaned loud enough that I am sure Chris heard it clearly. The stretch was intense. That full, almost too much pressure that made my legs shake. Jake groaned, “God, you’re tight,” and started thrusting harder, his hips slapping against my ass. I looked toward the closet and locked eyes with Chris through the crack in the door. He was jerking furiously, mouth open, completely lost in the sight of his best friend railing me.

Jake fucked me like he owned me. He flipped me onto my back, threw my legs over his shoulders, and drove deep. Every thrust hit spots Chris had never reached. I came hard the first time, crying out Jake’s name, my pussy clenching around his thick cock. That sent Chris over the edge in the closet. I heard him moan as he came.

But Jake kept going. He fucked me through two more orgasms, manhandling me however he wanted. Doggy style with my face pressed into the pillow Chris sleeps on, then riding him reverse cowgirl so Chris could see everything. The wet sounds, the way my tits bounced, Jake’s low grunts. It was all too much. When Jake finally buried himself deep and came inside me, I felt pulse after pulse of his load flooding me. It was so much it leaked out immediately when he pulled out.

Chris stepped out of the closet, dazed and hard again, staring at my stretched, cum-dripping pussy. He crawled between my legs and licked me clean while Jake watched with a satisfied smirk. That night broke something in the best way possible.

This is a mostly true story, with some minor embellishments to improve the story. All names have been changed or removed.

My Gf [22f] had been cucking me [24m] for a while already and had started fucking this guy, K, that she meet through one of her friends. From what I was told K didn’t know that I knew they were fucking and he thought she was cheating on me behind my back. Apparently he loved the secrecy of it and she would tell him how much better he was and how much she loved his dick more than mine. She sent him nudes on request and even letting him fuck her raw a few times.

Eventually my gf ended up introducing K to me as a Uni friend and she started inviting him out to some small gatherings we would occasionally host. He was very polite to me and if I hadn’t known I wouldn’t have suspected anything was going on between him and my gf.

I don’t tend to drink much so I was pretty regularly a designated driver and would occasionally drive drunk friends home if they needed. After a night of partying it was just us and K left at and my gf told K that I’d be happy to drive him home. We all got in my car and she sat in the backseat next to K, to keep him company on the drive home. As we were driving I could hear them chatting and occasionally giggling. When I glanced back I saw her hand on his lap rubbing his upper thigh. We dropped him off and on the way home my gf told me that he fingered her on the drive. She asked if I saw, which I didn’t, and told me she would’ve let him fuck her on the backseat then and there. It got me really hot thinking about her getting fucked in the backseat of my car.

A couple of days later I got a message from her saying she had finished early and was going to borrow my car. I didn’t think much of it initially, she had borrowed my car before so it wasn’t completely out of the blue. A little later I got a picture from her at this little secluded out of the way parking spot near a nature preserve along with a message ‘just out relaxing with K, hope you don’t mind. I’ll keep you updated if anything happens.’ I’d received similar messages and knew she was looking to get fucked. About an hour later I got a picture of her naked on the backseat of my car with her text ‘just christened your backseat with K, hope it doesn’t smell like sex. Told K not to make a mess so he finished inside me.’

Later that night when I got home my gf took me out to the backseat of my car and started making out with me while telling me how K fucked her. How she striped naked for him, despite being in (an admittedly empty) carpark. How K fucked her across the backseats and when she begged him to cum inside her so as to not make a mess. She got me so horny for her I ended up eating her pussy right there in the backseat of my car, where she had been fucked by somebody else earlier that day.

My gf and I have been seeing each other for 3 years and together properly for 2. I have never been so attracted or so in love with someone, which is probably why I felt the way I did about this.

For some context my gf is bi and the act in question takes place the june before we met. From day one, even when we were just “casual”, we felt as though we could share every secret we had. So I knew she had been involved in some group sex activity at a pride event with her gay (though clearly a spectrum) friend.

I found out the details over easter when at the pub in my gf’s hometown with her friends, including the gay friend, d, in question. After the pub had closed and we’d all had a few to drink we went back to one of her friend’s house to have a couple more. Once there d rolled a joint but me and him were the only two that wanted any so we went outside together.

Out in the garden we were talking about my gf and he kept mentioning how lucky I was, with every comment he alluded more strongly to the night in question. Once we had finished the joint I called it out and told him I already knew that he and her had fucked the same couple guys that night.

That’s when he corrected me. It was not a few people having sex in the same room, but instead 5 guys fucking her, including a giy he described as the “hottest guy I’ve seen naked”.

He then got serious and admitted something to me. He had videos. That she had asked them to take, not surprising as it seems to be a kink. He showed me his hidden folder where I could see 7 thumbnails of my gf and cocks. He airdropped them to me before deleting them, apologising for keeping them this long.

I should also mention that right now my gf and I are kind of long distance, so for a while we haven’t been together I’ve been getting myself off to our sex tapes. But while I had those videos I would wank at least twice a day to them. There was a video of them blowing 3 of them at once, one on her back and one on her front but in both being fucked with a cock in her mouth and grabbing/stroking another 2. One where she has cum on her face riding one guy before getting up and riding the guy laying next him. A longer one of her getting fucked on her back and the guy she was blowing cums on her face, then a few minutes later that sane guy jerks another onto her tits, then like five minutes of fucking before the last guy cums inside her. The final video is just of her making herself finish.

She’s knows I had them and that I thought it was hot. But she doesn’t know how much I enjoyed them in the few weeks I had them.

They are certainly the hottest videos I have ever seen. I can’t stop thinking about them and needed to talk about it but obviously didn’t exactly want to share this story with my friends.

So essentially that’s it. My wife, Daniela 34, has left me and filed for a divorce. In order to keep her happiness, I have left all my belongings to her, including my car and all my stuff, and found a new rental, until I renovate my flat from inheritance.

She (Daniella) is 174 cm, blonde, around 70 kg, but quite muscular (in a really feminine way), with white skin like Elsa’s. A few weeks after the break-up, I was about to offer her some financial help, but her reply made me extremely excited. She offered me that for some allowance, she can still dominate and cuck me.

Since then, she has been fucking her FWB (let’s call him Matthie, M51, a successful medical surgeon) regularly in front of me (mostly in our once was marital bed), or independently, but sending me details and pictures/videos of her being his slut.

It was always my ultimate fantasy to fuck her in her wedding dress, because we couldn’t have sex after our ceremony 3 years before that (we were very tired, so we did not have sex on our honeymoon night).

Instead of her fulfilling my desires in our marriage, she fucked Matthie in her wedding dress several times since. In front of me, together in a honeymoon suite, even doing it publicly. My duty during is the regular: serving them champagne, holding her legs, liking her heels, liking her her pussy to prepare her for their action, ect..

I’m constantly jerking to thoughts of my now ex-wife, while she is having the time of her life with her FWB (who evolved into some kind of sugar daddy of her). They are fucking on a daily basis, and multiple times a day when travelling. That is way better than our weekly average.

Keep me updated if you wish to dig into some details.

When my boyfriend suggested we go to Mexico for our anniversary, I expected romantic dinners, beach walks, and lots of sex between just the two of us. What I didn’t expect was him getting hard every time he talked about me wearing my tiniest bikinis and “seeing what happens.”

The first two days were pretty normal …sun, margaritas and him fucking me every night while whispering filthy ideas. On the third afternoon at the resort pool, he dared me to flirt. “Just see if anyone bites,” he said. I laughed it off at first, but the tequila and the way he kept staring made me bold.
That’s when Marco noticed me. Tall, probably 6’4”, dark olive skin, massive shoulders and a very confident European accent that made my stomach flutter. He was vacationing alone from Spain. We chatted at the swim-up bar while my boyfriend watched from our loungers.

Every time I glanced back, he had this hungry look. Later that evening he pulled me aside and admitted it: “I want to watch you with him. Tonight. If you want it.”
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely speak. But I did want it. The idea of this big stranger taking me while my boyfriend watched had been secretly turning me on since the pool.
We invited Marco for drinks at our suite. The tension was insane. Within twenty minutes he had me pressed against the balcony door, kissing me deep while my boyfriend sat in the armchair across the room, already palming himself through his shorts. Marco’s hands were so big on my body. When he picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bed, I looked over at my boyfriend and saw pure lust on his face.

Marco stripped me slowly, then took off his own clothes. His cock was thick and heavy …so perfect. I gasped when I wrapped my hand around it. My boyfriend groaned loudly at the sight.
He didn’t go slow. Marco pushed my legs wide open and slid into me in one long, steady thrust. I cried out loud. The stretch was so intense it bordered on pain before melting into overwhelming pleasure. He was so deep. Deeper than I’d ever felt. Every thrust made my tits bounce and my toes curl. My boyfriend was stroking furiously now, his eyes glued between my legs where Marco’s thick cock kept disappearing inside me.

“Fuck, look at her take it,” Marco said with a smirk, glancing at my boyfriend. He fucked me harder, folding me in half, then flipped me onto all fours so I was facing my boyfriend. I couldn’t stop moaning. The wet sounds of him slamming into me filled the room. My boyfriend kept whispering “You’re so fucking hot like this” over and over.
Marco lasted forever. He took me in every position. Missionary, doggy, riding him while facing my boyfriend so he could see everything. I came the first time on his cock while bouncing on top of him. The second time he had me pinned down, pounding me so deep I almost blacked out . My boyfriend came watching that one, spilling all over his own hand.

But Marco wasn’t done. He flipped me onto my back again, hooked my legs over his shoulders, and fucked me with long, powerful strokes until he buried himself to the hilt and came hard inside me. I felt every pulse. The warmth flooding me pushed me into another shaking orgasm. When he finally pulled out, his cum poured out of me onto the sheets. My boyfriend crawled closer, staring at my stretched, dripping pussy like he was in a trance.

This was on of many times my best friend and girlfriend have cucked me, but it still stands out as it was the first time it happened when we got out first house together.

One night we were all at my parents place having fun at a cookout. We live in the country, so we atv's and such often. As night time was om the rise, we were all going to go on a night ride. I had convinced my girl to ride with my best friend, secretly hoping they would sneak off and do things. Im sure they both knew that too lol.

The ride didn't end up happening, and we all left to go home. On the ride home, I told my girl I was secretly hoping he would've gave him a hand job had we went on the ride. She admitted she also thought about it. So being the cuck I am, I messaged my friend and told him that, and he said he'd come over if she was still down. She agreed so he came over.

(Also would like to note they hadn't fucked in some time because he had an std scare but was tested and cleared, but she was still skeptical till this night)

When he gets there, we all lay in my bed and she starts jacking him off. I loved it, this was my first time actually being present and getting to watch them. After a while though, you could cut the sexual frustration with a butter knife, it was strong. They both kinda looked at me basically asking for my permission, and I said "just put a condom on and fuck already"

So they did. He put a condon on, and went to town. It was like watching an animal get the prey it had been hunting, just primal, hard sex. I was insanely hard. After doing missionary for a while, she got in doggy style facing me, her head right by my dick, and he stood over the side of the bed. He was fucking her so hard that her body was pushing mine, and I was in euphoria.

The best part, I remember at one point he looked up at me and smiled in a rather crazy way, like a cocky yet surprised way, you could tell he was enjoying himself. Eventually they both came, and that was the end of it. He left not long after, and she jacked me off while I recounted how much I enjoyed it.

Pretty basic, but very true haha. Hope you enjoyed it.