r/sexystories

His mouth stayed on my neck. Warm. Slow. The same husband I had been with for nine years, only now there was a new current under his hands.

I closed my eyes and let the thought sit. The room. The five of them. The way they had looked at me like I was something they wanted and could not touch. Ryan knew. He had always known. That was the part that made my skin hum.

"We should try to get some sleep" I said. Not because I wanted to stop, but because I wanted to keep the door open, not slam it.

"Yeah, we should get some sleep" he murmured against my skin.

But neither of us moved for a while. His arm stayed around me. My leg stayed pressed to his. The want was still there, folded under the blanket, waiting.

The next morning came slow. Light through the curtain. Ryan already up, coffee in the kitchen like always. Normal. Safe. Only now I knew the safe part had a door in it, and he had left it open on purpose.

I found him at the counter. He slid a mug toward me.

"You managed to sleep okay last night" he said.

"I slept some, but my thinking kept me up for a while" I said.

He looked at me over the rim of his cup. "You were thinking about them" he said.

"I was thinking about you and them" I said. "And what you said to me, that you liked it."

He set the cup down. "I meant every word of it" he said. "I aint scared of this, Sienna. I already told you that"

I held my mug and felt the heat through the ceramic. "Then we should talk about it before the next time they come over" I said.

He nodded once. "We will talk when you are ready for it" he said.

.................I was already ready for it.

That day moved quiet. I went to work, hands on backs and shoulders, sore again by the fifth client. But the soreness felt different now. Like my body knew something had shifted. Every time I thought of the living room, the warm thing low in my stomach came back, steady.

"You seem like you are somewhere else today" my last client said.

"I am just thinking about some things" I said.

At home that night, Ryan cooked. Simple thing. He hummed while he did it. Normal. Only now normal had a second layer, and we both knew it.

After dinner we sat on the couch. The same couch the guys had crowded a week before. He put his arm behind me.

"Next time they come over, you do whatever feels good to you" he said. "I aint gonna be mad about it. I already told you that."

I looked at him. "And if what feels good to me is not just them looking at me" I said.

He was quiet for a second. Then he smiled, that loose one from the night before.

"We will talk about that too" he said. "But I aint gonna lie to you, Sienna. The idea of it gets me hard"

My face went warm. Not from shame. From the same thing that had started it all, the night I heard them through the wall.

"I know you got hard" I said. "I felt you against me last night"

He laughed, soft. "Yeah, you felt exactly that" he said.

We left it there. Not finished. Just opened. The door was still there, and now we had both walked up to it.

I went to bed that night without the fear I had at the start. The compliments were still in my head, but they were not just voices through a wall anymore. They were a thing Ryan and I shared now. Something we built together, slow, without rushing it.

And I knew, the next time the doorbell rang, I wouldnt hide in the bedroom.

I couldnt sleep.

Not after Saturday. Not after walking through that room and feeling all of them on me, like hands I couldnt see.

Ryan was already under, one arm flopped over my side of the blanket. He smelled like beer and his usual soap. Normal. Safe.

I should have been tired. Instead my skin was humming.

I turned on my side, facing him. Watched his chest rise and fall. Thought about Marco's voice. The one who called me nice. The one whose eyes dropped to my legs.

Then Ryan's eyes opened. Heavy, lazy.

"Are you still up" he mumbled.

"Im just thinking" I said.

"About what are you thinking about" he asked.

Not a question really. Just him, half asleep, inviting it.

I should have said work. Said nothing. But the words came out before I stopped them.

"I am thinking about you. And them. And tonight"

That woke him a little. He blinked, focused on my face.

"You are thinking about the guys" he said. "You liked them looking at you"

It wasnt a guess. He knew.

Instead.....I didnt deny it.

"I dont know" I said. "Maybe I did"

He smiled. Not the careful smile he used when something bothered him. A different one. Looser.

"Good" he said. "Because I liked it too"

I stared at him. The safe husband. The man Id been with nine years.

"You liked it" I said.

"I like watching them want you" he said. "It gets me going, Sienna. It always has"

Always has. The words sat between us.

He just didnt know.....the whole picture. But now he was handing me a piece of his.

"Since when did you feel this way" I said.

"Since the start maybe" he said. "The first time Marco called you hot, years ago, I got hard. I thought it was weird. Then I figured it out. You are mine. And they see it. That is something I like"

My stomach flipped. The warm thing from the living room came back, stronger.

"So you're not mad?" I asksed

"Mad" he laughed, quiettly "Babe. I am proud. They all want my wife and they cant have her. That is the best part."

Cant have her. He said it like a wall. Like the line.

"Then what happens now" I said. Quiet. Testing.

He paused. The lazy smile faded into something real.

"I dont know" he said. "But Im not scared of it. Not with you"

That was the door opening. Not a push. Just.....a yes waiting to happen.

He pulled me closer. His mouth found my neck. I let him, and under the want for Ryan, there was something else

And Ryan, moving on me, turned on by exactly that.

I closed my eyes. For the first time, the fantasy and the marriage were the same thing.

I woke up the next morning with the sheets twisted around my legs.

I pressed my face into the pillow. I should have felt ashamed. A good wife would have been angry. Would have told Ryan his friends were gross.

Instead I was wet.

That scared me more than the rest.

------------

I got up and went to work. The workplace was busy. Client after client, my hands on their backs, their shoulders, working the knots out. My own hands still sore from the day before. Every time I pressed into someone, I thought about the couch. About eyes on me. About the voice from the kitchen saying he wouldnt leave the house if I was his.

"You okay today?" my last client asked. "You seem.....somewhere else."

"I'm fine" I said. "Just.....a long week"

I wasnt fine. I was somewhere else. Somewhere with five men and a living room and a look I couldnt stop replaying.

-------------

Ryan was on the couch when I got home. Same spot as always.

"your hands still sore?" he asked

I held them up. "A little. They're....yeah."

He patted his lap. "Come here then"

I sat. He took my hands in his, thumbs working the palm, slow. It felt good. It always did. But tonight my skin was awake. Every circle of his thumb lit something low in me. And behind my eyes, it wasnt Ryan's hands I was seeing. It was the living room. All of them. Looking.

"You like that?" he murmured.

I did. But not for the reason he thought.

"Yeah" I said, quiet. "Feels....good."

He smiled, happy, thinking he was the one doing it for me. He wasnt wrong. He just didnt know the whole picture.

-----------

The days slid by. I was different with him. A little quicker to touch. A little slower to leave the room. He noticed, in the way men notice when things get better and dont ask questions.

Then the text came. Ryan's phone buzzed at dinner. He read it, grinned.

"Guys coming over Saturday" he said. "You good with that?"

I stirred my rice. "Yeah. I'm.....good."

I was more than good. I was ready.

-------------

Saturday came. The doorbell rang. Bottles. Laughter. The same five voices, already loud before they sat down.

This time I didnt hide in the bedroom. I walked out before they were even settled, glass of water in hand, loose shirt, shorts. Casual. Like it meant nothing.

One of them looked up. His eyes went to my legs then back to my face, quick, like he got caught.

"Hey Sienna" Marco said. He was half through a beer already. "You look......really good. That a new shirt or something?"

"I just threw something on" I said.

"Well it works" one of the guyd said. He leaned back, bottle resting on his knee. "Ryan, man.....your wife cleans up nice. I dont know how you got so lucky"

Ryan grinned from the couch. "Told you. Makes me look good, huh?"

"Makes you look like a king" one of thrm laughed. "Some of us are still married to.......you know.......ghosts"

They laughed at that. Even me, a little. And I let them look, because now I knew exactly what I was doing, and the room was full of them, and every one of them was seeing me.

------------

I stood there a second longer than I needed to. Then I turned, slow, and walked back to the kitchen. I felt all five of them behind me. Watching. Like before. Only this time I wasnt pretending not to notice

I sat on the bed with my knees up for a while after that.

The voices kept going in the living room. Laughter. Bottles. Ryan's easy laugh mixed in with the rest.

I should have stayed in here. That was the safe thing. The thing I always did.

But the feeling in my stomach would not quit. That warm, low thing. And something new was sitting on top of it now. Not just being seen. Wanting to be seen again.

I stood up.

I told myself I was just thirsty. That was the story I gave myself. I needed water. The kitchen was past the living room, so I had to walk through all of them to get there. SimplE and normal

It was not simple. Me and the part of me that liked this both knew it.

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The talking dipped for a second as I walked in. Five of them on the couches. Ryan in his spot. Marco with his bottle. The others I knew by face more than name, the ones who had been calling me hot from the other side of the wall.

"Hey Sienna" one of them said. Polite like always.

"Just going to get some water" I said. I kept my voice light.

I walked past them slow. Not too slow. Just enough. The loose shirt moved a little when I moved. The soft shorts rode up at the back of my thigh. I felt their eyes on me the whole way to the kitchen. All of them. Not one. I didnt look back. But I felt it, like heat on my skin.

I filled a glass at the sink. The water was cold. I drank.

And then I heard it. One of them, low, like he forgot I could still hear from the kitchen.

".........would you look at that. I won't even leave the house if that's my wife"

My face went hot. Full blush, straight up my neck. I pressed the glass to my cheek for a second, like that would hide it.

They kept talking. Someone laughed quiet. "Bro, calm down" More laughter. Ryan said something I didnt catch, and they all chuckled like it was a joke they shared, something about him being the lucky one again.

I finished the water. My hands were a little shaky. The sore one from work, the one Ryan said he'd rub later, curled tight around the glass.

Then I had to walk back.

The bedroom was past them again. There was no other way. So I turned and walked through the living room a second time, glass in hand, trying to look like I was just heading to bed.

This time I looked. Just a little.

The guy who said the line was sitting leaned forward, bottle in one hand. His pants tented. Clear. He wasnt even hiding it that well, or maybe he didnt know I would see on the way past. But I saw it. I knew what it was.

I kept walking. Face still burning. I didnnt say anything. I didnt stop.

I reached the hallway. The bedroom door. I closed it behind me and leaned against it, glass still in my hand, heart going fast.

I slid down the door to the floor. The warm thing in my stomach was not low anymore. It was everywhere.

I didnt know what to do with that either. But this time, for the first time, I was starting to have an idea of exactly what I wanted to do about it

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.

The voices from the living room were muffled through the wall, but I could still make out the shape of them. Laughter. Bottles clinking. Ryan's easy voice among the rest.

I told myself to lie down. To close my eyes. To let them have their night.

But my feet did not move.

The compliments were still in my head, looping. Your wife is hotter than mine. She still has it. You're lucky, man.

I shouldnt have liked hearing that. I was married. To Ryan. These were his friends. And yet the warm thing low in my stomach had not gone away. If anything it had gotten heavier, the way heat sits in a room after the sun goes down.

Without really deciding to, I stood. I crossed the bedroom quiet and pressed my ear to the door.

I didnt open it. I just listened.

".....nah, I'm serious" one of them said. "Sienna's got that look. You know the one. Like she takes care of herself but she's not trying too hard. That's rare, man"

Another laughed. "Ryan probably doesn't even realize half of us are jealous. Lucky fool"

"My wife hasn't looked like that in years" someone else said. "Not since the kids. Sienna still moves like she's comfortable in her skin. That's what gets me."

Ryan's voice came through, lazy with drink. "She works hard. Always has. Keeps her in shape."

"Keeps her in shape" Marco repeated, and I knew he was grinning. "Bro, you married a ten. We all see it. We're just polite about it"

More laughter. Then a quieter voice, like someone had leaned in.

"I ever tell you guys, I saw her at the mall once. Alone. She was laughing at something on her phone, just walking. I almost said hi. Then I remembered, nah, that's Ryan's wife, keep it moving. But man. She looked good just......living"

My face felt hot. They talked about me like I was a thing on a shelf they all noticed but none of them touched. And the worst part was the small, shameful flicker that I liked being the thing.

Ryan said. "Never gives me grief. Cooks sometimes. Lets me have my nights."

"Yeah well" Marco said "you keep her happy or the rest of us are gonna start lining up."

They laughed at that. Even Ryan.

I pressed my palm flat against the door. My heart was beating faster now, not from fear. From something else. Something that sat low and warm and a little wrong.

They thought I was out of reach. Polite. Untouchable. Ryan's wife.

But they had looked. They had noticed. And Ryan, my safe and steady husband, had laughed when they said they'd line up.

I stepped back from the door and sat on the bed again. I pulled my knees up. I should have felt insulted. Should have felt angry that his friends talked about me like that.

Instead I felt seen.

And I didnt know what to do with that

Parts 1 & 2 in the comments

I wasn’t planning on spending all day and night with her. Bailey is just so easy to talk to and so difficult to leave. I was still left craving her company after sharing a breakfast with her.

My chocolate ice cream melts on my tongue. I can’t remember the last time I had enjoyed ice cream. Eating it with Bailey felt like a whole new experience. Like the magic I believed in as a kid was always real, it just stayed safe with her. Seeing her beam with sugar on her tongue and blush on her face made the rest of the world melt away. The taste of her body and sight of her climax set my world on fire. Just the sheer memory of her contracting around me last night put goosebumps on my skin and made my pants tight at the waist.

“Gah!” A sharp spike of ice spears my head and infects my brain. I rest an open palm against my forehead, trying to get my body heat to melt the brain freeze.

Bailey’s warm hands soothe my shoulders. “Press your tongue to the roof of your mouth.”

Staring into her bright, blue eyes, I follow her instructions. Gradually, the sudden chilly blast subsided. Though I don’t know if it was the technique or her warm gaze.

Bailey’s head turns from me, her focus somewhere between the grass and sidewalk. As her face scrunched up with a poorly hidden yawn, it was my cue to end the night here.

“Hey.” I stroke her face to guide her attention back to me. Her eyes were tired, as if she were fighting to keep them open. “I think it's about time to get you home.”

She smiled, holding a slight whine in her tone. “But that means we have to walk all the way back.”

Despite all the fun we had, she’s right. We’ve basically been on our feet all day long. The arcade, shopping, food, and now a walk in the park. I’ve worked this girl to the bone without even trying to.

I take hold of her hand and nudge her to a park bench bathed in the artificial light of a nearby street lamp. She sits, stretching her body every which way. The pull of her limbs made her top tight against her. Every curve of her torso was defined. The hem at the bottom rose to show off just a tease of that unforgettable waist.

Her grunts and moans replaced the silence as I threw the last of my ice cream away. I didn’t realize how achy my own feet have been until I took the spot next to her. The muscles in my legs instantly started getting a weird mix of numb and sore. I pulled Bailey’s legs onto the bench, resting her calves on my thighs.

She arched her back like a well-rested cat. Stretching and teasing the curves of her body. The army-green yoga pants she had on were a straight leg all the way down, hiding her shape past the knee. They hugged her waist nicely, though. I walked behind her as often as I could just to watch her round ass sway as she walked. Her sneakers were nearly pure white, save for the brown accents. Taking them off showed hot pink socks over her feet. I dug my thumbs into the cloth and worked in slow circles to massage her feet. She instantly melted in my hands, the sight of it pulling a force in my chest towards her.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m able to take a break without being pampered.” Her grateful expression didn’t match her protesting words.

“I want to. I enjoyed touching you last night. Having you in my arms felt– right.” She watches me talk with attentive eyes. “I don’t know what the right words are. But, you just fit so perfectly with me. Like– you knew me without ever seeing me. I’ve never had such a strong connection with someone like that, Bailey.”

She smirked, a sense of pity in her eyes. “You know. I only know so much about you because I stalk you on, like, all of your socials. Right?”

I shake my head at her with a grin on my face. “No. I’m not talking about my favorite donuts or the names of my cats.” She stared at me, with a look in her eyes determined to understand what I was trying to say. “Talking and hanging out with you, makes me feel like myself. It’s like, I don’t need to worry about saying the wrong thing or showing you a part of myself that has been rejected by everyone else. You’re special, Bailey, and I want you to see that as much as I do.”

Her gaze shies away as she forces herself to look at the ground, a glaring blush flooding her face. I glide towards her for a better view of her expression, hoping to catch just a glimpse of what she could possibly be thinking. My kneading hands follow the shift in my movement. Her leggings were buttery smooth on her calf. The distance between us shrank, and the air grew increasingly warmer. I brush a hand against her cheek, encouraging her to look at me. The fabric of her pants suddenly felt so coarse in comparison to her supple skin.

“Bailey. May I kiss you again?”

She giggled, face getting redder. “I thought you already knew what I taste like.”

“This is– a different kind of hunger.”

Her eyes grow wide and innocent, almost like she’s nervous. She took a deep breath that I could practically taste from our proximity. The scent of her vanilla ice cream was faint on her breath, mixed with her floral perfume. Then, she kissed me. So sweet and pretty. Like she was asking me if it was okay for her to kiss me, like she had an apology ready for offending me.

I moved my lips with hers, sinking my fingertips into her hair. I didn’t push her further, no matter how badly I needed it. Our lips danced together like flower petals on a pond’s surface. So close to sinking with just the faintest amount of pressure.

I felt her freshly manicured nails drag up my torso. My stomach caved in at the ticklish sensation. Goosebumps flared under my polo shirt. My breath hitched when she scritched over my nipple. I hoped she didn’t notice my body’s response to it. Her palm rested on my shoulder. Her thumb stroked along the nape of my neck, caressing my pulse line, and I just melted.

I held her by her waist as I let her back dip closer to the bench. She giggled as her other hand wrapped around my arm as if she’d fall. Her violet-scented perfume wrapped around me like a live wire. She abandoned my lips to travel along my jaw. Then my neck, right into the hollow of my collarbone. I hadn’t even noticed how hard I’d been. Not until Bailey’s legs sank against my groin.

She was so close to me, yet so far.

Such a tease, shifting over my erection like it was her own toy. The warmth of her hand left my neck. Her lips left me dizzy as she lapped at my clavicle. She tickled me with her fingertips. Down. Down. And down she goes. Until her hand rested on my pec. Her thumb twirled around my nipple. The pressure ebbing between just right and not enough. Every pinching sensation had my twitching cock at full attention. A sharp dig into my neck and my head was brought back to earth.

“Gah–ha, Bailey.”

I heard her giggles in my ear while her teeth remained in the column of my neck. She pinches my nipple between her fingers, slowly twisting the bud until I lose the strength to hold her up. She fell fully onto the bench. I hovered above her with her knees pressed against my hips. I’ve never thought a single woman could have such an effect on me.

The sharp pinch of her bite is lavished by the flat of her tongue. I lose more of my comprehension as she continues to toy with me. My rigid cock lands between her thighs, and I can’t control my urge to grind into her, desperate to gain the satisfaction of release. She lets go of my neck to look at me, as I hold my lower lip between my teeth to stop the whine in my throat at the newfound distance between us. Her arms wrap around my neck as she looks at my face twisted in agitation.

She wore a satisfied smile as my jeans dragged over her clothed center. “Gavin. You look so gorgeous like this. I love having you quake and flustered above me. It makes me hungry for more.” Her fingers sink into my hair, and with a strong hand, she guides me closer to her face. “Gavin. When are you going to stop fooling around and take your pants off?” Her soft voice grazed my ear and put me in a chokehold.

“Bailey– W-w-we’re in public.”

Her knuckles drag down the side of my face, the scabs scratching against my cheek. “There’s nobody here. We’ll be so fast.”

I fell for her convincing tone. My belt felt like the most complicated contraption in the world, but finally came off. Bailey rustled beneath me as she took off her leggings. I couldn’t wait long enough to take off my pants, so I just let my length drop over the hem.

A cool night breeze ran over my body, carrying the scent of the salted copper of Bailey’s pussy. I rubbed myself between her lips. Her slickness had covered me from tip to balls. The hard bud of her clit grinding against the rim of my head.

“Fuck you’re so wet. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t?”

“I wasn’t, hah–” The pressure of her clit sent an electric shock up my spine, a dab of precum forming at the tip. “I wasn’t planning on doing this again, or wanting to spend the entire day with you.”

“Well.” She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer to her as she moves her hips faster, harder. “I guess you’ll just have to pull out before you cum.” If she said that any other way, I wouldn’t have been able to understand her.

“I can do that.” I pull in a deep breath. “I can pull out. I’ve done it before.”

I take my cock in hand and line up with her properly. I pressed the tip in slowly, and despite her thick arousal everywhere, it was like she didn’t want me inside. Her walls were basically sealed shut, forcing me to push harder into her. Inch by excruciating inch, she was suffocating me. I was drowning in her slick flesh as she gripped me like a venus flytrap swallowing its prey. I was only halfway inside her, and it felt like if I gave her anymore I’d turn into a one-pump-chump. I rocked against her. Her greedy whines hissing through clenched teeth. The muscle inside her was alive, moving with me in tandem and pulling me further inside her. Fuck she felt amazing last night with a condom, but raw, she’s completely irresistible.

Dammit! I’m already close, and I haven’t even put it all in. Gotta think of something else, gotta think of something else. Fuck what do guys normally think about in this situation!? Baseball? Math? Uh… twenty-two times four. Four and two make six. No, eight. Then eight again. Add a zero below– Fuck! She just got tighter.

“Gavin.” Bailey’s pleading voice reaches for me like a dream. “Gavin, stop teasing me. I need more.”

I could see her in the streetlamp’s light. Her face was flushed red, her eyes were laid in a teary glow, and her mouth was agasp with torment. Oh fuck me. I couldn’t fight the power she had over me and sank all the way to the hilt. My thrusting became more sporadic and shallow. I was being swallowed over and over again by her. My cock started to tingle from base to tip. Nothing else mattered. Nothing was on my mind. Nothing was slowing down my hips.

Bailey’s voice cracked into a shriek as she came. Her pussy shuddered over me like a vibrator. Nails sank into my back through my shirt, and I could no longer hear her breathing. I moved faster as her walls twisted and turned around me.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum!”

“Not inside!” She yelled, but it was the most difficult thing I’ve had to do.

I pull out, as quick as I can. The cool night air hit my hot cock hard as I came. The semen dripped down my dick, covering me in a warm blanket against the breeze as it fell onto Bailey’s thigh. I was still wanting more, and I felt the jerk of my cock bounce at the thought of Bailey’s raw pussy. The sight of my seed on her skin was somehow both erotic yet guilt-ridden. It wasn’t my intention to get her messy. I suppose I should be thankful I didn’t cum on her clothes.

I sink down to her legs and lap up my cum. Bailey’s hand grips my hair and keeps me a safe distance from her sensitive sex. I’ve never tasted my own semen before. It tastes salty with a bit of a bitter after-flavor. Even after I licked her clean, I nipped at Bailey’s inner thigh. The scent of her arousal is clouded down here. I could nearly taste it on my tongue as I sucked on her. She isn’t letting me near her pussy, so I’m just going to bite and pull at her flesh here till I’ve left my mark. The soft flesh sinks into my brain like a treasured memory. Like I’ve had this meal before, and I will have it again.

All feedback is appreciated 😊

All Joe wants is to party and get laid. But thanks to the virus outbreak and lockdown, he's stuck at home with his mom and aunts.

Then Aunt Beth gives him a "future diary," and his luck changes. Suddenly, it seems like he could stay home… and still get laid?

All characters 18+. Joe is 22 (as stated in paragraph 8). Anna is 45 (paragraph 6). Beth is 43 (paragraph 21) and Paula is 39 (paragraph 28).

~

“I can’t believe you’re going out on a fucking date at a time like this. Can you be any more selfish?” Joe raised his voice just as his mother was heading for the front door.

Anna was dressed up and made up, something that didn’t happen often these days. Instead of baggy shirts and pajama shorts, a red dress hugged her curves and exaggerated them. A pair of heels forced her back to arch and her ass to stick out.

It was the sight of his mom’s perfectly curled hair and perky ass from behind that had made Joe so irrationally angry he couldn’t stop himself from saying something.

Anna’s hand froze on the door handle. She turned to look at her son, who was standing by the round table in the middle of the expansive entrance hall of the house they shared, staring daggers at her.

Joe had recently moved back in due to a virus outbreak that had put literally everything on pause. Offices and schools were closed, and people were doing their work from a laptop on their dining table. Some shops and restaurants were deemed essential enough that they could remain open, but even they looked like ghost towns.

Anna’s social life had ground to a halt. But she couldn’t possibly just stay home 24/7, cooped up with her son, sisters, and sisters-in-law. It was a large house, but still. Anna was a social, vibrant forty-five-year-old who needed a break from her family sometimes.

“What’s the matter?” Anna asked, unable to hide her irritation. “You’re afraid of monsters under your bed or something?”

At twenty-two, Joe was a college student. He’d just started to enjoy drinking, clubbing, and sleeping around when the government had announced a nation-wide lockdown.

Now, he was stuck at home with his mom and aunts, and hating it. The only thing that remained from his old life was his online classes, which sucked.

His friends were drifting away, and the furthest he could get with girls online was getting nudes. How was it fair that his mom was going out and getting laid?

But Joe wouldn’t admit that was the reason he was angry. Instead, he said, “You’re being so irresponsible. You know there’s no cure for this virus. What if you caught it from Rex and spread it to all of us who have been doing the right thing and staying home?”

He hated that name. Rex. So stupid. What did Anna’s boyfriend think he was, a dinosaur?

“It’ll be fine.” Anna rolled her eyes. “I’m taking precautions and being safe.”

She’d meant that she was putting on her mask in public places, and that she’d had Rex test himself before their date, but as the words were coming out of her mouth, both she and Joe cringed at the realization that they could be interpreted a different way.

Anna had no intention of sharing any information about her sexual life with Joe, and Joe really didn’t want to imagine Rex putting on a condom before fucking his mom.

“You’re so fucking selfish,” Joe repeated.

Anna bristled. After everything she’d done to raise her son on her own after her husband had died, he accused her of being fucking selfish?

“You’re an adult. You can take care of yourself.” Anna’s voice was resolute. She locked eyes with her son, cracked the door open, and stepped one foot outside as she said, with finality, “I know it’s hard to believe, but I have people other than you that I care about in my life. Grow up.”

The door slammed shut. The entrance hall was quiet again, the silence ringing in his ears, but not for long.

Joe didn’t even hear Aunt Beth come in. She was like a ghost when she wanted to be, which was most of the time. He only noticed her because she cleared her throat.

“Don’t let her get under your skin, Joey.” Beth was Anna’s slightly younger sister. At forty-three, she’d had a lot of opportunities to observe the relationship between the mother-son pair, and she was familiar with their conflicts.

Joe said nothing, but he settled his gaze on Beth.

Beth’s hair was still wet from her shower, slicked back to showcase the sharp lines of her cheekbones, which was softened by the delicate arch of her lips.

She wore a bathrobe—Anna’s, actually. Maybe it was because Joe hadn’t gotten laid in months, but he couldn’t help noticing the robe was a little too snug at the hips, the terrycloth gaping at the chest. The cream lapels framed a line of cleavage that drew the eye, and one shapely thigh poked out from the robe’s slit, her calf flexing as she shifted her weight.

“You going to stand there and sulk all day? Or you want to spend your time doing something fun?” Beth clapped her hands together like she was trying to get a toddler excited.

Joe said nothing, although he followed her without protest, his gaze fixed on the way Beth’s hips swayed from side to side in the too-small bathrobe.

An intrusive thought popped up in his brain, urging him to reach out and grab his aunt’s ass. It had been so long since he’d touched a woman, and he was growing more desperate by the day. He managed to suppress it, but he wondered how much longer he could last with his raging hormones in a house full of gorgeous, mature MILFs.

The kitchen was a mess of activity. Paula—his dad’s thirty-nine-year-old sister—stood at the kitchen island, up to her forearms in bread dough. She wore a tank top and leggings, which highlighted her tall, lean body. Right now, she looked like a bag of flour had exploded in her embrace, but it only made her look more attractive, more domestic, more feminine. Her dark curls were a wild halo around her head.

In Joe’s horny mind, his Aunt Paula looked like the world’s most oversexed baker, mouth pursed in concentration, hands kneading with a vigor that could have been sexual. He imagined those hands wrapped around his dick, those long legs spread open for him.

“Paula’s on her fifth attempt with her third recipe. This is supposed to be the best one yet,” Beth said excitedly. She sat on a bar stool at the kitchen island, pulling her knees up and letting the robe slip a little further, revealing a little more skin. “Aren’t you excited to try it?”

“It’s all we eat anymore,” Joe grumbled. “Bread. Toast. I’m sick of sourdough.”

Paula looked up, face streaked with flour and a big smile. In her state of intense focus, she hadn’t realized she had company. 

“Oh, hey, my taste testers are here!” Paula said, as she slid a wooden board across the counter, a fresh loaf sitting on it.

Joe tore off a hunk of the warm, crusty bread. He chewed. The bread was good, of course it was good, but he couldn’t help but exaggerate a sigh.

“Don’t you ever get bored of sourdough?” he asked.

“Not really. It’s alive. It changes. It’s never exactly the same twice.” Paula shrugged, wiping her hands on her leggings.

“You know what your problem is, Joey?” Beth asked, tapping a painted nail on the countertop. “You don’t appreciate the small things. Everything’s gotta be clubs and girls and excitement, but you’re missing all the stuff that makes life sweet. Like fresh bread.”

“Maybe you need something to do,” Paula suggested, not looking up from her work. “Something to use up all that pent-up energy.”

“Like what? Knitting?” Joe asked, voice thick with sarcasm.

“I mean, if I learned how to bake sourdough bread from the Internet, you can learn how to knit,” Paula said.

“Oh, I know!” Beth snapped her fingers. “You could write. Keep a diary. That helped me process my emotions during my divorce. You just scribble whatever comes into your brain, even if it’s just ‘I hate sourdough bread’ over and over.” Her foot nudged the stool next to her, where Joe sat.

“Isn’t that, like, for girls?” He snorted.

“Yeah, well, so is therapy,” Beth replied, “but you could use some of that, too.”

Paula giggled, a fleck of flour flying from her eyelashes.

“Hang on. I have a journal somewhere.” Beth hopped off the stool, the bathrobe threatening to betray her as she rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom she’d occupied since her recent divorce.

Joe was left alone with Paula, who was now humming tunelessly and shaping dough with hands that looked like they’d handle a dick exceptionally well. He tried not to stare down her top as she bent down slightly. He wondered if there was something wrong with him—some chemical imbalance that made him want to fuck every woman he laid eyes on, even his own aunts.

“What are you going to write about?” Paula asked, her tone distracted, punctuated by soft grunts as she kneaded the dough.

“I don’t know. Maybe about how I’m trapped in this house with a bunch of crazy women.” Joe shrugged.

“That’s the spirit.” Paula smiled.

Unlike his other aunts, Paula had lived in this house for more than a decade. When her brother, the wealthy CEO of a multinational corporation, had gotten sick, she’d abandoned her luxury apartment in the city and moved in with him, his wife, and his son. And then, after his death, she’d been too sad and lonely to move out, and so she’d stayed.  

It was an unusual living arrangement, but there was plenty of space in the mansion for everyone to avoid each other if they wanted to—before the lockdown, before Joe’s other aunts moved in. Besides, Anna was grateful that Paula would watch her son whenever she needed the help. 

Beth returned, waving a battered notebook over her head. The leather cover read “Future Diary” in a loopy, slightly menacing black script.

“Here!” she declared, thrusting it into Joe’s hands. “It’s all yours. The old lady at the flea market seemed really excited when I bought it, although I have no clue why. She didn’t speak much English. Anyway, take it. Write in it. Be happy.”

Joe didn’t want the book, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Beth. After her divorce, she’d spiraled into a deep depression that she could still fall into if she wasn’t careful. She could seem really cheerful one moment, but turn into a shaking pile of sobs the next. He didn’t want to be responsible for triggering her next mental health crisis.

Joe thumbed the cover. It felt weirdly warm, almost soft, as if the tan leather had a pulse. He flipped through the first pages, which were blank except for a single sentence at the top of the first page: Write what you hope for, and it will come true.

“What is this, a magic wand in book form?” He snorted.

“Stop being such a cynic,” Beth said, slapping his nephew lightly on his arm, the physical contact like electricity on Joe’s skin. “You’re just supposed to imagine your best self, or what you want to happen, and just go for it. Manifest it into reality.”

“Alright,” Joe said, taking the pen that Paula had helpfully slid across the counter. Both women watched closely as he wrote, in jagged block letters:

I WISH THAT TOMORROW, PAULA STOPS MAKING SOURDOUGH AND INSTEAD MAKES ANY RECIPE I WANT.

“I wish that tomorrow, Joe starts taking this journaling thing seriously.” Beth sighed, but she smiled as she put her hand on Joe’s arm again. This time, she let it linger. “But this is a good start.”

“I have to say, though, sweetie, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment,” Paula said. “I’m baking another batch first thing tomorrow.”

~

The next morning, sunlight sliced through the curtains and painted stripes across his sheets. Joe was half-awake, drifting in that pleasant limbo where dreams and reality mingled, when someone knocked softly at his door.

It was just after seven. He groaned.

The door creaked open, and Paula poked her head in, her loose black hair a tangled halo. She wore a tight white tank top and tiny blue pajama shorts that made him want to drag her into his bed.

His morning wood twitched at the thought of spreading his aunt’s long legs and filling up her womb with some of his cream. Had he just had a dream about this? For some reason, he could see it so clearly—her waddling around the kitchen with a big, round pregnant belly, the proof of their incestuous union baking in her oven.

“You’re up.” Paula hovered in the threshold, eyes wide and oddly anxious. Her hands twisted in the hem of her tank top, stretching the fabric tight across her chest.

“Not really,” Joe muttered, shifting under the sheets, gaze drawn to the outline of her nipples that he could just make out under the white fabric that stretched across her chest. “What’s up?”

“I need to know what you want to eat today,” she blurted, voice strained. “You said I should bake something else. So. What recipe?”

Joe blinked at her, groggy and not processing. “Can’t you just… pick?”

“No.” She shook her head, messy hair swinging. “It has to be you.” A note of panic edged her words, like she was desperate to get it right.

Joe sat up, the movement making his morning wood tent the blanket. He pulled the comforter a little higher. 

“Is this a joke? Are you pranking me because of what I wrote in the stupid diary last night?” 

“I’m not joking. I—I can’t start until you tell me. Please.” Paula’s face crumpled. She looked at him, and he caught the deep, helpless confusion in her eyes. “I feel weird, Joe. I woke up at like five. I just went to the kitchen, I started to gather my supplies, but I just couldn’t do it.”

“Do what?” Joe asked. He’d hoped to get some clarity, but Paula’s answer confused him even more.

“Bake!” she exclaimed, as if it was obvious and Joe was being obtuse on purpose. She took a breath, as if to calm herself down, and said, “I’ve been pacing the house for hours, waiting for you to wake up. I just need you to tell me what to bake. Anything. Just say it. Give me a recipe.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Joe stared at his aunt, blinking.

“Please,” she said, and she sounded so desperate then that he slowly started to shuffle out of bed. He grabbed his phone and laptop.

As he followed Paula down the hallway and down the stairs, she glanced at him every few seconds, as if to check that he was still behind her. It really interrupted his viewing of his aunt’s perky little ass.

He realized that they were alone in the house, with everyone still asleep. Whatever they did now, they had almost complete privacy—something rare in this house these days—and no one would find out.

In the kitchen, sun streamed in, catching the flour-dust on the black granite counters. Paula bounced from foot to foot as Joe sat at the island.

He opened his laptop, intending to pull up the recipe for some brownies he’d bookmarked. Before he could click, a video started auto-playing: a porn clip he’d watched before going to sleep last night, at full volume, the sound of a woman moaning echoing in the bright kitchen.

He fumbled to mute it, but not before Paula froze, her face going slack with shock. Then, a flush crept up her cheeks, a deep, blotchy red.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, not looking away from the laptop screen. “That’s… uh…”

Joe slammed the lid closed, mortified. “Shit. Sorry. Wasn’t—didn’t mean—”

She just stood there. And then, in a tiny voice, “Can I see?”

He stared at her, unsure if this was some next-level practical joke. But Paula didn’t laugh, or even smile. She looked… curious.

He opened the laptop again, slowly, the video still paused on a frame of a woman on her knees, mouth open and tongue out, a massive dong stuck between her lips. He watched as Paula’s eyes widened, and she let out a shaky breath.

“I… I don’t—It’s been a while—I’m not sure—,” she stammered, voice trembling. She looked straight at his nephew, swallowed, and tried again, “I’m not… familiar with this recipe… but if you’ll tell me what to do…”

Joe’s cock hardened instantly, so hard it throbbed against the waistband of his boxers. He couldn’t believe what was happening. His aunt—a grown woman, a beautiful woman, his dad’s sister—was looking at him like she wanted to taste him.

Paula’s hands trembled as she approached him, her eyes never leaving his.

“Do you want me to…?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, but the implication was clear as sunlight.

Joe nodded, almost afraid the spell would break if he spoke aloud. He slid his chair back from the counter, the legs scraping the tile, and stood on the floor, still not believing this was happening.

He wondered if Paula had been just as horny as he’d been. He hadn’t seen his aunt go on a single date with a man or a woman the whole time they’d lived together, but it wasn’t like he’d placed round-the-clock surveillance on her. So it was possible that she was feeling just as deprived as he was, all cooped up at home, and she just wanted to get laid.

In any case, Joe wasn’t stupid enough to stop his sexy aunt if she wanted to suck his dick.

Paula dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands resting on her thighs, her face tilted up to meet his gaze. There was a quiver of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

Joe’s throat was dry. He’d never been in control like this before. He reached out and brushed a stray hair from his aunt’s cheek, marveling at the smoothness of her skin, the way she leaned into his touch.

“Open your mouth, Aunt Paula,” he said.

She obeyed, lips parting, tongue peeking out just a little. He could see her breath quicken, her chest rising and falling. His cock strained at his boxers, desperate to be free.

Her eyes dropped to his crotch, pupils dilating as he pulled his dick out, already thick and veined, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He stroked himself once, twice, then guided the head to her lips, fully expecting her to back out before it ever touched her.

Paula hesitated for a heartbeat, then closed her lips around the tip and licked the salty pre-cum. She made a soft sound—half gasp, half moan—as the taste hit her. Joe groaned, the warmth of her mouth almost overwhelming.

She took him deeper, inch by inch, her tongue swirling around the shaft as if she was learning the shape of him. It was clumsy at first—Paula had always been the shy, homebody aunt, not the sexpot. But she was eager, desperate to please, and the awkwardness made it hotter.

Joe tangled his fingers in her hair, guiding her head as she bobbed up and down. He could feel her throat flex as she swallowed, trying to take more of him. She gagged a little when he pushed deeper, but didn’t pull away.

Her hands found his thighs, nails digging in as she steadied herself. He looked down at her, at the way her cheeks hollowed, the way her eyes watered, and felt a surge of possessive pride. This was his aunt—his pretty, flustered, flour-dusted Aunt Paula—on her knees, letting him use her mouth like it was her only purpose in the world.

“Good girl,” Joe murmured. The words sent a shiver down her spine. He could feel her vibrate with it.

He remembered the video still playing, muted, on his laptop. He reached over, turned the volume back on, low enough that nobody else would hear, and the kitchen was filled with the harsh, wet sounds of the porn star’s mouth, the woman’s moans and gags as she was face-fucked by a faceless, muscular man.

Paula’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back to Joe’s cock. She redoubled her efforts, working him with a desperate, hungry rhythm. The noises from the laptop seemed to sync with their breathing, their movements, until Joe felt himself tensing, the urge to cum building to an impossible peak.

He pulled out suddenly, not wanting to finish in her mouth—not yet. There was something else he wanted to try.

She waited patiently on her knees as he fast forwarded the video until it reached the point where the blonde porn star was on her hands and feet on a bed, being fucked from behind.

Joe watched in amazement as his aunt quietly got up to her feet, spun around for him, and bent herself over the kitchen island, her shorts riding up so high he could see her ass cheeks hanging out under the hem. Her hands were splayed on the flour-dusted granite, hair wild and eyes wide with anticipation. She looked back at him over her shoulder, waiting for his next move.

He didn’t make her wait. He tugged down her pajama shorts, baring her ass and the damp, glistening lips of her pussy. Joe’s hands shook as he lined himself up with her entrance, his cock already slick with her spit.

He pushed in, slowly at first, watching as Paula’s body adjusted to his size. She let out a low, animal moan, arching her back and pushing against him, hungry for more. He slammed into her, hips snapping forward, and she cried out—half pain, half pleasure—as he filled her completely.

Joe’s hands found her waist and gripped hard. He fucked her in long, deep strokes, each thrust sending Paula’s tits bouncing against the countertop.

The sounds from the laptop—now a woman begging to be bred, to be filled up—echoed in the bright morning kitchen, mixing with the sounds of their bodies colliding.

“Fuck me, sweetie,” Paula whimpered, voice raw and needy. “Fuck your aunt. Fill me up with your cum. Knock me up. Please. Make me pregnant. Come inside me.”

He pounded her harder, the filthy words coming out of his aunt’s mouth sending him spiraling. He knew he wouldn’t last long.

On the laptop, the porn star was still screaming for her partner to cum inside her, to knock her up. Joe reached forward, grabbed a fistful of Paula’s hair, and yanked her head back so she could see the screen.

“You want me to come in your cunt?” he growled in her ear.

Paula nodded as her body shuddered, her pussy walls gripping her nephew’s cock in waves. She was too far gone for words.

“Beg for it,” Joe said.

Paula’s answer was a guttural, desperate, “Yes! Yes, sweetie, I want it, I want your cum—inside me—please—”

He’d planned to pull out, to finish on her back or her ass, but her words undid him. He slammed into her one last time and exploded, hot jets of virile cum flooding his aunt’s womb.

She reached back and pulled him close, whimpering and shuddering with her nephew’s last few thrusts. Her knees were still weak when he asked if she was on birth control and she said no. 

~

Hi, Brooke here. Thank you for reading my dirty story. Check out my reddit profile for more taboo erotica!

I put the last towel on the shelf and pressed my fingers against my palm. My hands were still a little sore from work. Five appointments in a row always left them like that. I didn’t complain though. I liked my job. Being a masseuse kept me busy and kept my body moving.

I then went home

I walked into the bedroom and changed out of my work clothes. I put on a pair of soft shorts and a loose shirt. When I passed the mirror, I stopped for a second. At 34, I still looked good. My body was soft in the places men usually liked, but firm from being on my feet most of the day. I tied my hair back and left the room.

Ryan was on the couch in the living room. The TV was on, but he was mostly looking at his phone. When he noticed me, he gave a small smile.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Same as usual” I said. “Five clients back to back. My hands are tired”

He reached out when I walked past and lightly squeezed my wrist. “I can rub them later if you want”

I gave him a small smile back. Our marriage was comfortable. We had been together for almost nine years and married for six. The sex was decent. Not boring, but not wild either. We knew each other’s bodies. It was familiar and safe.

I sat down on the other side of the couch and pulled my legs up. Ryan put his phone down for a moment.

“The guys are coming over later” he said. “Just for a few drinks. Nothing big”

I nodded. “Okay. I’ll stay out of the way”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to. They like you”

I didn’t say anything to that. Ryan’s friends were polite whenever they came over. They always greeted me nicely and kept the conversations light when I was in the room. Still, I usually let them have their space. It was easier that way.

A couple of hours later, the doorbell rang. Ryan got up to open it. I stayed in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. I could hear the familiar voices of his friends as they came inside. Laughter followed. The sound of bottles clinking. Someone made a joke I couldn’t fully hear.

I leaned against the counter and listened for a moment. Their voices were loud but friendly. After a while, I decided to grab a snack from the pantry near the living room. I wasn’t trying to listen. I just happened to walk close enough.

That was when I heard my name.

I stopped.

One of them was talking about me. I couldn’t hear every word at first, but then the sentences became clearer.

“I’m telling you, Ryan, your wife is hotter than mine, you lucky fool”

Another voice laughed. “Mine too. My wife doesn’t even touch me anymore. Once the money started coming in, it was like she turned into a roommate”

Someone else added “Not gonna lie, Sienna still looks really good......really good. You’re lucky, man”

I stood still in the hallway, just out of sight. My face felt warm. I wasn’t supposed to hear this. I should have walked away. But my feet didn’t move.

Ryan said something back, but I didn’t catch it clearly. The compliments kept coming in different forms. My body. My looks. How I still had it compared to their wives.

A strange feeling settled low in my stomach. It wasn’t just embarrassment. There was something else mixed with it. Something warmer. My thighs pressed together slightly without me thinking about it.

I quietly stepped back before any of them could notice I was there. I walked to the bedroom and closed the door behind me. My heart was still beating a little faster than normal.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor

They were just drinking and talking. Men said dumb things when they were together. I knew that.

But the compliments stayed in my head anyway.

And for some reason, they made me feel something.......

The next morning felt heavier than the ones before it.

I woke up before Mike. For a few minutes I just lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying everything from the night before. The way she had crawled out from under the bed. The look she gave me before slipping into the hallway. And most of all, Mike’s words that kept looping in my head.

“Just…...be careful around my mom, man. She’s crazy. You don’t know the kind of stuff she’s done before”

I had never thought about her that way until he said it. Up until last night, everything between us had felt intense and specific. Like it was something that only existed between me and her. But now I couldn’t stop wondering if I was just repeating something that had already happened before.

Mike eventually moved and got up. He didn’t say much. He just grabbed his clothes and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he looked at me for a second longer than usual before heading to the living area.

I followed a few minutes later.

Mrs. Thompson was already in the kitchen area making coffee. Mr. Thompson sat at the table scrolling through his phone. On the surface, everything looked normal. But when she turned and saw me, her eyes lingered for a moment. There was still heat in them. Still that same pull.

This time, though, I felt something else alongside it.

Doubt.

“Morning” she said softly.

“Morning” I replied.

Her voice was careful, the same way it had been for the last few days whenever Mike was nearby. She poured coffee into a mug and set it down near me without making it obvious. When her fingers brushed the side of the cup, they were close enough that I could have touched them. I didn’t.

Mike sat down across from me. His eyes moved between his mom and me the way they had been doing for days, still searching for something. I kept my face neutral and focused on the coffee.

Breakfast was quiet. Mr. Thompson talked a little about the drive home and what time we should leave tomorrow. Mike gave short answers. Mrs. Thompson mostly nodded and stirred her coffee even after it didn’t need stirring anymore.

At one point she stood up to grab something from the counter behind me. As she passed, her hip lightly brushed my shoulder. The contact was small, but it still sent a spark through me. At the same time, Mike’s words surfaced again in my head, cutting through the heat.

"She’s crazy. You don’t know the kind of stuff she’s done before”

I didn’t look at her when she sat back down.

Later, when Mr. Thompson stepped out onto the balcony to take a call, the room went quieter. Mike leaned back in his chair and glanced at his mom.

“You okay?” he asked her. “You’ve been quiet”

She forced a small smile. “Just tired. Ready to go home, I guess.”

Mike looked at her for a second, then looked at me. I kept my expression blank. After a moment he stood up and muttered something about getting his charger from the room. When he left, the silence between me and Mrs. Thompson stretched out.

She spoke first, her voice low.

“You were quiet this morning.”

“Just thinking” I said.

She watched me carefully. “About last night?”

I nodded once.

Her eyes softened a little, but before she could say anything else, Mike’s footsteps returned down the hallway. She immediately looked down at her coffee again. The moment closed just like that.

The rest of the day moved slowly. Packing started in small ways, clothes folded, chargers collected, bags pulled out from under the beds. Every time Mrs. Thompson and I ended up in the same space, the pull was still there. I still wanted her. My body still reacted to the memory of how she felt around me. But now there was a question sitting underneath it all that I couldn’t ignore.

Had she done this before?

And if she had…..what exactly had Mike seen?

By the time evening came, the hotel room felt smaller than it had at the beginning of the trip. Tomorrow we would leave. The secret would go with us. But the doubt Mike had planted in my head was already coming home with me

Mike’s breathing stayed deep and steady.
I waited longer than I needed to, just to be sure. Every few seconds I listened for any change in his rhythm. When nothing changed, I slowly moved my hand down the side of the bed and tapped the floor twice with my fingers.

Under the bed, Mrs. Thompson carefully began to move. I heard the soft sound of her bare skin brushing against the floor as she started to crawl out. She moved very slowly, inch by inch, trying not to let her knees or elbows make any noise. First her head appeared, then her shoulders. She looked up at me in the dark with wide eyes, still completely naked. Her hair was messy

She continued sliding out until her whole body was free from under the bed. For a few seconds she stayed low on the floor beside me, listening carefully. Mike didn’t move. His breathing stayed even.

She reached for her robe, which had been left near the foot of the bed. Her hands were slightly shaky as she picked it up and slipped it on. She tied the belt around her waist as quietly as she could. I could still see a thin line of my cum on the inside of her thigh before she pulled the robe closed. She wiped it quickly with the fabric, then looked at me again.

I pointed toward the door.

She nodded once.

She stood up very slowly and began walking across the room. Each step was careful and controlled. She avoided the spots on the floor that usually creaked. When she reached the door, she stopped and listened one more time. Then she opened the door just wide enough to slip through. Before she disappeared into the hallway, she looked back at me for half a second. Her expression was hard to read in the dark, a mix of relief, leftover desire, and something else.

She closed the door behind her with almost no sound.

I stayed completely still afterward, listening.
No footsteps. No voices. No movement from Mike’s bed.

After a full minute, I finally let out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling.

My mind went straight back to what Mike had said earlier that night.

“Just…...be careful around my mom, man. She’s crazy. You don’t know the kind of stuff she’s done before”

The words sat heavy in my head and refused to leave.

Up until now, everything between me and Mrs. Thompson had felt intense and specific to us. I had focused on how neglected she seemed with her husband, how strongly she reacted to me, how risky and addictive the whole thing had become. But Mike’s voice kept replaying in my mind. The way he said it didn’t sound like a joke or random frustration. It sounded like he was remembering something real.

Had she done this before?

Had there been someone else?

Another younger guy?

Someone she got too close to, the same way she got close to me?

I turned onto my side and faced the wall. The sheets still smelled like her skin and sex. My body still remembered how tight she felt when she came around me. The memory alone was enough to make my cock twitch again. But now there was something else mixed in with the heat, a low, uncomfortable doubt that hadn’t been there before.

Maybe I wasn’t special to her. Maybe I was just the next person who paid attention when she felt ignored. Maybe this pattern had happened already, and Mike had seen the damage it caused.

I closed my eyes and tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming back. Outside in the hallway, Mrs. Thompson was walking back to the room she shared with her husband, still carrying my cum inside her. And I was left alone in the dark with Mike’s warning repeating in my head, wondering what exactly she had done in the past and whether I was making the same mistake someone else had already made.

Sleep didn’t come easy after that...... I wonder what he means by that

Mike sat on his bed with his phone, scrolling like he had no plan of sleeping anytime soon. The soft light from the screen lit up part of his face. The rest of the room stayed dark and quiet.

Under my bed, Mrs. Thompson didn’t move at all. She was completely naked, knees pulled in, trying to take up as little space as possible. My cum was still slowly leaking out of her and onto the floor beneath her. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t stretch. Even breathing too loudly was a risk.

I lay under the blanket, staring at the ceiling, forcing my chest to rise and fall like I was calm. My heart was still beating too fast. Every small movement Mike made made my stomach tighten. If he dropped his phone, or leaned over, or decided to look for something under the beds, everything would collapse.

A few minutes passed in silence.

Then Mike spoke without looking at me.

“You notice my mom’s been acting weird this trip?”

I kept my voice steady “Weird how?”

He kept scrolling for a second before answering.

“A lot of little things. The way she looks at you sometimes. Like she’s thinking about something else. And she gets nervous for no reason. Playing with her towel, avoiding eye contact, stuff like that.....”

I stayed quiet.

Mike continued.

“And the other night…...when I woke up and she was in here. That still feels off. She said she heard something, but it didn’t sit right. Then at breakfast she jumped in so fast to cover for you. It felt rehearsed”

He paused for a moment, then added,

“Is she telling you something about her and dad? is she telling their problems?”

Under the bed, I could almost feel her freeze even more.

“Maybe she’s just stressed” I said carefully. “Or tired. It’s been a long trip....”

“Just…...be careful around my mom, man. She’s crazy. You don’t know the kind of stuff she’s done before”

The way he said it was flat, but there was something heavier underneath. Like he was remembering things he didn’t want to explain.

I didn’t answer right away.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Mike shook his head once.

“Nothing. Forget it. Just watch yourself.....”

Mike finally put his phone down on his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

The silence after that felt heavier.

I could hear Mrs. Thompson under the bed trying to keep her breathing silent. My own body was starting to feel stiff from not moving. The smell of sex was still faint in the room. I prayed Mike wouldn’t notice it.

More time passed. Mike picked his phone back up, scrolled for a while longer, then locked it and set it on the side table. He yawned once, rubbed his face, and turned onto his side, facing away from me.

“I’m gonna try to sleep” he muttered

I didn’t answer.

I just listened.

A few minutes later his breathing started to slow. Then it got deeper and more even. The kind of breathing that meant he was actually drifting off.

I still waited.

Only when I was sure he was fully out did I slowly move my hand down the side of the bed and tap the floor once with my fingers.

A couple of seconds later, I felt her hand carefully touch mine from underneath.

She was still there.

Still naked.

Still stuck.

And we still had to get her out without waking him

Bailey hands me her keys, and I drive us to an old building covered in half-burnt-out neon lights. Bright fluorescents lined each aisle of snacks, drinks, and over-the-counter medicine. I take the largest size in their selection, though I’m not sure it’s big enough.

Bailey’s still in the truck, face in her phone, completely focused on whatever she’s doing on it. It isn’t until after I’ve taken us around the back for a spock of privacy and opened her door that she’s finally entered reality again.

“Did you find one?”

“Oh yeah.” I didn’t need a mirror to tell me that I had a hungry look in my eye. This woman doesn’t have a chance.

Before she can protest, I lift her out of the cab and carry her to the bed. Tailgate down, I settle her luscious ass on it. A chaotic rhythm of red and blue lights paints her body. I hold her there, stand between her legs, and lose my sense of the world around me in her lips again.

She wasn’t a velvety, sweet exterior with a crisp, salty center. This woman was pure sugar with a runny cream inside her. She was a rich delicacy that didn’t give my body enough time to process her flavor before it was gone.

I climbed into the truck bed with her. As I attack her neck to leave more marks on her, I savor the muffled whimpers she gifts me. The bruising along her throat is absolutely divine. I couldn’t wait to decorate her with more. I cup a breast in my hand as she lies beneath me. The form of it slips between my digits with ease. She must’ve taken her bra off while I was gone. Twisting the nipple in my hand, I seize the other in my mouth. The hard bud rolls between my teeth like a marble. I feel Bailey’s hands sink into my hair and hold tight to my arm. Her breath comes out in shudders, compelling me to keep going.

I stop the surge of stimulation on her immaculate peaks and just watch her. Her face was flushed, her hands balled up by her shoulders. A wet spot was left behind on her shirt.

“Oh Bailey.” My hands run over her body, tracing every curve of her silhouette. “Oh Bailey, Bailey, Bailey.”

Her laugh at my expressed obsession with her tickles my ear, prompting me to prove just how crazy she’s making me.

Once more I take her neck in my mouth, turning her purpled skin darker. Her pulse plays a steady, hard beat against my tongue. I follow the rhythm to her ear, nipping at it with my lips, and licking the outer shell before I place a quick bite right below it.

My body tenses from the feel of her legs wrapping around my waist. The grind of her hips forces me to grow harder against her. There was no end to this moment. My mind had convinced me that this is how I’d live the rest of my life. A gorgeous woman beneath me, her subconscious begging for more when she was too stimulated to physically ask. I could nibble on her soft skin for eternity if the Gods would let me.

I had to let go of her though. My hands fiddle with the zipper of her jeans, ripping the fabric from her body. The scene moved too fast for me to process whether or not I just completely ruined the pants. It didn’t matter though, not when I had a half-naked Bailey lying beneath me. Not when her legs were spread out in a wide and inviting angle that would be forever cemented in my head.

I pull down my own pants. Just enough for my cock to fully spring out, ready for action. I ripped the box open and peeled out a condom. Unrolling it over my shaft proved I was right about the size. The latex stuck to me like a second skin, looking like it was at its limit. Pushing Bailey’s panties to the side, I stroked my thick member through her folds, the hard bud of her clit dragging over me from base to tip. Soft tickles turned to overwhelming sparks just from that. The tip just barely slid in her before it was pushed out and over her clit again. Bailey’s arms wrapped around my shoulders, her hips moving and sputtering frantically.

“Gavin– stop teasing me like that.” Her voice was shaking, desperate.

I pull away from her completely. Looking down at the condom that already had a thin film of precum inside. I sank inside her, not all the way though. She wasn’t ready yet. Inch by everloving inch, I pushed till I felt her walls push back, loosening her up. I watched her brows point down, her mouth fall open, and her eyes squint as she watched me enter her over and over again. I couldn’t feel the crests inside her when all I could see was her stunned expression as I carefully pumped.

Finally, finally, I was fully seated. My balls slipped between her tight ass cheeks. Every time I pulled out, my sack was tugged, pulling my stomach to my cock. Every entry was tighter than the exit. Bailey wrapped around me like she’d suffer if I left. Slowly, I had her ridges crawl over me. They sank against my dick like a vise grip. I was being suffocated inside her pussy.

My vision had been blinded by a white light. My tempo quickened. Bailey’s cries and moans filled my head. I could feel every drop pour out of me. My thrusts became sporadic. The muscles in my legs twitched and trembled. My mind had melted and left my skull. I was dizzy, used, intangible. I was barely conscious as I peeled the condom off my sensitive cock.

“Oh, are you done?” The sound of Bailey’s voice was muffled.

“Huh?” I couldn’t manage any coherent words.

“Did you finish?” I wouldn’t have been able to see the awkwardness in her smile without the blinking neon lights.

“Yeah. You didn’t?”

“No. I was close, but you started to move differently.”

I let out a long, shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any more energy.”

“You’re still hard.” The gentle glide from just her fingertips felt like an industrial sex toy on my freshly orgasmed cock.

“Yeah, but–” I choked a bit from the air in my lungs as she continued her soft play, bringing my dick back to attention. “– my body won’t let me fuck you again.”

She rises from below me. Her hand on my chest, encouraging me to lie on my back. “Don’t worry about that.” Her voice was so sweet and caring. “I can do that for you.”

Her panties peel off of her, the scent of her pussy filling the air. It was salty with just a touch of sweetness. My pants were pulled to my knees before she climbed on top of me. Bailey grabs the box of condoms and pulls another one out. It slowly glided over my aching cock, giving the appendage a mind of its own as it twitched from her touch.

Her soft slit parted around me so easily as she sat down. I felt my stomach cave into my spine, the air leaving my lungs. All I was able to manage was holding onto her wrists that rested on my chest.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, dear God no–” My dick moves past the raised texture inside her. She bounces on my cock, sending a mayhem of aftershocks throughout my body.

She looks down at me, smiling at my loss of control. As if she wasn’t tempting enough, her shirt strips from her body, revealing her breasts. The memory of them in my hands turned me into a greedy man. I pull Bailey down towards me, her hands on either side of my head. My tongue struck between her teeth for her air. As I played with the hardened peaks on her chest, her pussy clamped up to a stronger hold.

My cock was grinding against a suffocating channel. It bent backwards as she slammed her hips on me over and over again. She cried in my ear, a series of yes, yes, yes that amplified into oh my God’s.

A strong snap was at my head. Her slick arousal leaked onto me through the broken condom. This is bad. She feels so good like this. Fuck Bailey, slow down. Bailey, you gotta stop. Bailey, Bailey, Bailey!

Her pussy shuddered and spasmed around me, her groans broke down to soft whines. I tried to hold back. I really did. But fuck, this woman had some kind of hypnotic essence about her. I couldn’t stop the flow of my cum spilling inside her. I don't know if I’ll ever cum so much again. My grip held her ass firmly, my hips kept rocking into her. I watched globs of my semen drip from her pussy and onto my skin.

“Fuck– Did– Did the condom break?” Her eyes were wide, alarm setting in her features.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I tried to stop myself. You just felt too good, you looked too good. Fuck, it was too much to handle.”

She giggled. “Well, guess I’m getting the pill in the morning, huh? There goes the table fund.”

I take a glance at her scratched knuckles. “Let me take care of it. I’ll be in town through the weekend, and this is the least I can do.”

“Oh you don’t have–”

“How many times am I going to need to tell you that I will? I want to take care of it. Just let me handle it, okay.”

Despite the fact that she was just used like my personal pocket pussy, her skin flushes brighter. “Okay.”

“Good girl. Now where’s your phone?”

She scrambles around for her jeans and pulls out her cell. I punch in my contact info and hold her close to my chest, covering her warm skin in light kisses. “Now, when you wake up, call me immediately. We’ll meet up and get the medication. Okay?”

She nods in response. I ended my night there, taking an infectious woman back home and calling an Uber to my own car. After spending the best few hours of my life with Bailey, the small hotel room felt so empty. I ended up falling asleep with my phone in hand. A black screen that I hoped would give me a potential date in the morning.

All feedback is appreciated 😊