Sochi is a special city. Vacationers bring their own rhythms and moods to its life. Locals usually rent out rooms by the sea, where all sorts of people live. I once rented a room in a house by the sea. I relaxed, swam, sunbathed, and went on excursions. As always, I was troubled by Him, my dick, always on guard, always searching, always dissatisfied. But one day he finally got lucky. A couple of girls from Nizhny Novgorod, Vera and Lola, arrived. One of them, Lola, having escaped the city's wilds, apparently decided to have a blast. In the evenings, the vacationers would gather in the courtyard, drink tea, eat fruit, play cards or table tennis. Then one evening, Lola came out to the table tennis. Her breasts were barely covered, a small piece of fabric under her navel, and her butt was completely bare. Well, maybe a little string was visible... She and her friend started playing tennis, Lola flashing her bare buttocks. Soon the women started making a fuss, pounced on the trouble... continue reading

One night, I hadn't gotten much sleep from watching porn until midnight, so I decided to go home to catch up on some sleep, going to my tech room when everyone else had left. After walking a bit down the street, I returned to the entrance, climbed the stairs to my apartment, opened the door, and then heard my mother's voice a couple of floors below. I dashed into the apartment, tossing my jacket, boots, backpack, and bag with two shoes into the built-in closet in the hallway and darted in. The closet doubled as a storage room and was quite spacious. I hid behind the hanging things, and almost immediately the door to the apartment opened, and I heard my mother's softly cooing voice and a man's voice talking to her. - Oh, Yanka, you're such a bitch! I'll eat you right now! - Yes, I am! I'm going to eat you right now! My mother flirted back! I couldn't believe it! She's certainly a beautiful and sexy woman, and men like her, I could see it perfectly.... continue reading

What do I want to do with you? I'll treat you to champagne and invite you to dance, slowly undress you, and dress you in my arms. I need to feel you as my prey, my toy, the embodiment of my most forbidden, depraved, and lewd fantasies... Even if only for a little while! Even if only for a few hours! Naked, you'll stand by the window, bend forward slightly, resting your chest on the sill, spread your legs, and I'll lick you from below like a goddess. Then I'll rise, stand behind you, and enter your temple of love and femininity, so that your eyes will fill with the blue light shining outside. What do I want to do with you? Let me play with you and your nakedness, your pliability, your tenderness... Put you on your knees, or squat you, dip my fingers into your hair, and then touch your face, forehead, eyebrows, eyes, nose, cheeks, lips with my lingam... Caress them. And then enter your wet mouth. Give me an oral rhapsody! Adagio and andante, allegro and fortissimo... W... continue reading

Zheka continued talking, devouring me with his eyes, "Two serious guys are arriving this evening on business. They have diamond mines in Africa and a cutting factory in Yerevan. They're meeting here today with a business partner, a jeweler from London, who flew in especially for this. They hold meetings here quite often. You'll be escorting these Armenians. As far as I remember, they're great connoisseurs and lovers of women's butts. I think they'll really like your skillful backside. Now, relax, but not for long. After lunch, at our hotel, you'll go to the spa and see the makeup artist. The girls will get you ready, I'll tell them, and by five o'clock tonight, be ready for work. You have to look like a million dollars." He spoke as he pulled on his underwear and pants. Once fully dressed, he gave me a firm slap on the butt, my buttocks bouncing invitingly. That slap and the mention of diamonds in Africa brought back vivid memories of my adven... continue reading

Introduction from the husband Recently, while talking about memorable and unusual sexual experiences, my wife reminded me of another adventure in a train compartment. Wow, I'd completely forgotten about it. She started recalling details, and I remembered some of them too, so I decided to commit the experience to paper. As I was writing, I realized it would be easier for me to persuade my wife to write the part of the story about the events that took place without my presence. I would then write the introduction and then describe the events in which I had already participated. So, it all started like this: my wife and I had already bought train tickets to St. Petersburg—we were planning to go to another meeting at a higher-level organization. Yes, it was May! Then I got a call, first from the head of the repair department at the head office, and then from the deputy director of the representative organization in the Moscow region. The problem was this: the Muscovites needed to ha... continue reading

Jack Miller spent a week stalking the neighborhood. He chose a target and arrived at the house around two in the morning. He found and carefully opened an unlocked window on the ground floor of the quiet house. He quietly crept into the dark room, turned on a small flashlight, and looked around, removing an old pillowcase from under his jacket. He quickly went to the sideboard, found a box of expensive antique silverware, and dumped it all into the bag. Also inside was a beautiful silver tea set and a small metal box containing three hundred dollars. Not bad for a couple of minutes' work, he thought, heading for the exit the same way he'd entered—through Rachel's window. Suddenly, the light flashed and a man's voice rang out! "Who's there?" the man shouted. Jack froze, looked over his shoulder, and saw a man of about fifty standing in the far doorway. - Hey! What are you doing here?! Turning to face him, Jack put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a sh... continue reading

The living room was filled with the scent of jasmine candles and the tart notes of women's perfume—the floral trail of Zhanna and the fresh, almost marine scent of Christina. I sat in a chair, watching them as jazz played softly, and they, the two friends, settled on the huge sofa, their bare feet touching. Zhanna, my red-haired wife, was the embodiment of temptation in her short black dress. Her curves, the very ones that had driven me crazy all these years, stood out softly in the dim light. Christina, a slender blonde in tight jeans and a silk tank top, gestured as she told yet another amusing story. A provocative tattoo on her ankle peeked out from under her jeans, and a silver piercing in her belly button glinted with every movement. "Boris, don't stare like you're at an exhibition," Zhanna winked at me, her green eyes sparkling mischievously. "Want to join in? There's plenty of room." I moved to the sofa, feeling a slight arousal creeping in. Ch... continue reading

His loft smelled of old books, leather, and the faintest hint of his cologne—something woody, tart. The candles on the nightstands cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating bizarre giants of light and darkness. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling small and fragile, almost translucent. My short black hair seemed even darker against my pale skin, and the tiny swallow tattoo on my wrist felt like my only talisman of protection. He was thirty-eight. Tall, with a graying beard and eyes that had seen too much. His hands—strong, with the sinewy fingers of a photographer and thin silver scars on his knuckles—now ignited a fire within me that sent shivers down my spine. He approached me silently, like a predator. "Ready?" His voice was low, almost chest-like, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I merely nodded, unable to speak. My throat was dry. We'd met several times, discussed boundaries, safe words. But the theory proved worthless compared to the practical items lyin... continue reading

My heart was pounding wildly, a dull thud echoing in my temples. I looked in the rearview mirror at my reflection: out of breath, with an unnatural flush on my cheeks and overly shiny eyes. I was now biting my lips, which I had so carefully lined with ripe cherry-colored lipstick, until they hurt, trying to push back the obsessive thought: “You're a traitor. You're a bitch. You're doing this.” Rain splattered the windshield, turning the city lights into blurs. The car smelled of my perfume—Black Opium, his favorite. My phone, lying on the passenger seat, vibrated again. I glanced at the screen: "Husband." A breath caught in my chest. Just a couple of hours ago, I'd been kissing this man, my husband, cooking him dinner, listening to him talk about a boring day at the office. And now I was racing to the outskirts of town, to the cheap Eden Motel, which smelled of despair and lust, not paradise. "Meeting with Lenka, I'm running late, don't wait up, k... continue reading

Ira and I had a complicated relationship; we were on and off, though we kept in touch for several years. One time, when we broke up again, I decided that was it and I needed to start over. I messaged my friend and we went to a nightclub, ideally to pick up some chicks, but as it turned out, just to have a drink and have a good time. We started with one, then another, until it was late at night and we were standing at the entrance to yet another, quite drunk. My friend decided he couldn't continue our "crusade" any longer and called a taxi. I was about to leave, but something seemed to draw me inside. I walked into the club, the stairs leading straight down. Upon entering, music and the murmur of people became immediately audible. Couples stood along the steps in the semi-darkness, enjoying each other with rapture. I went downstairs and found myself in a large room. The music was loud, and the flickering, dim red lighting created an intimate atmosphere. I went to the bar,... continue reading

Life, like a river, flows along its course. At first, a turbulent, swift current sweeping away everything in its path, then a broad, full-flowing current, calm and predictable. But sometimes, beneath this apparent calm, deep and dangerous whirlpools arise. I'm thirty-seven. My name is Elena. My husband, Grisha, is forty-three, and I have been together for fifteen years. During this time, we've experienced everything: poverty, the first modest joys, arguments, reconciliations, and the joy of owning our first apartment. But our greatest asset, our shared project, into which we've poured our hearts, are our two children. But this story isn't about them. It's about Grisha and me. About that quiet, almost invisible crack that was slowly but surely spreading across the façade of our well-being. It all started around the time I turned thirty-five. I began to notice a strange, almost animalistic restlessness within me. It was as if a beast had awakened within, dormant al... continue reading

As you get older, you begin to truly appreciate the simplest things. For example, a solid, regular male erection. Now I think back to my youth—what a fool I was... How many guys I shaved. How many orgasms I missed... For some reason, I grumbled at my husband, who always needed something. And then... Then it turned out that I lived for several years without an erection. Fingers, vibrators, colorful dildos, even vegetables and fruits... What hasn't happened to me over the years... But it's all wrong. Nothing compares to the magic of a real, erect, and therefore valuable, male end. And yesterday I finally got that ending! I'm speaking in verse now because I'm happy. I've been working towards this for a very long time, and here it is! It's happened! To be honest, Petenka was drunk. I tried my best to make it happen at the office party. I shouted toasts, topped up his glass, offered him another drink. And when he was drunk enough, I offered to take him home in a t... continue reading

It all started so banally that it's even funny now. I was coming home from college, pulling into the entrance hall, drenched in sweat from the stuffy street, and she was just coming out of her apartment—Aunt Natasha. Our neighbor, in her forties. I always saw her as well-groomed, smelling of perfume and baked goods, a true homemaker. She was always smiling at me, asking about my studies, and there was something warm and maternal in her eyes. The guardian angel of our building. But today her gaze was different. Narrowed, appraising. I muttered "hello" and reached for my door. “Andryusha, wait a minute,” her voice, usually so clear, was now low and velvety. I turned around. She was leaning against the doorframe, wearing a light housecoat that outlined... God, it outlined everything. All those soft, seductive curves that I sometimes thought about out of the corner of my mind as I drifted off to sleep. "You're so disinhibited, poor thing. Session?" She took a ste... continue reading

My husband and I have a good relationship, great sex, but... But for years now, I've dreamed of feeling like a slut, of being fucked like a total whore by a stranger. Or even several times... Alas, the prerequisites never materialized—first, the cushy love affair with my husband, then the birth of our daughter. And for a long time, I couldn't imagine a real situation where I could step outside the bounds of morality. However, I would start to cum around any even remotely attractive man, imagining how I'd take him in my mouth and then spread my legs for him. So my husband and I, leaving our daughter in the care of her grandmothers, went to a provincial town to settle some matters with the inheritance left after the death of a distant relative. We stayed in a hotel, considered the best, but with the kind of service and furnishings I imagined the Soviet era. However, this archaism was nothing compared to the ordeal of dealing with the inheritance. And so, on the second day,... continue reading

Hello everyone! My wife's name is Anya. We have been married for 4 years already: she is 25, I am 29. We always have a rich life, both in terms of life and sexuality. I love my wife very much and am very concerned about her comfort with me. At the beginning of our relationship, everything developed rapidly, and within a month of our relationship, I already proposed to my beloved. Well, to tell you the truth, I regretted not having done this on the very first day of our relationship. She's a real dream, both physically and mentally. A beautiful brunette with sultry eyes, beautiful breasts, always-aroused nipples, a thin waist, and slender legs. It was impossible not to want her just by looking at her. Sexually, I was simply crazy about her, and we had a ton of variety. We had sex at home, in the car, in cafes, and so on. She has an incredibly beautiful pussy and anal slit. I couldn't tear myself away from her for days and nights. Every time she jumped on my dick, I almost... continue reading

— Fuck, yes! More! Fuck me like this, deeper! My nails dug into the cool plastic of the kitchen countertop, and my entire body arched in a silent scream from a new, crushing jolt that echoed deep within, causing my insides to clench in a delicious spasm. Sweat trickled down my back, mixing with the tears of madness that rolled down my face. Strong, young hands gripped my hips, pressing them in with such force that there would definitely be bruises tomorrow. Bruises that I would proudly examine in the mirror, a crazy thought flashed through my head. "Mommy's just an insatiable whore," a low, commanding voice rasped right next to my ear, its roughness making me shudder with desire again. "It's been forty minutes, and you're still thirsty. There's already a puddle under you, see?" I lowered my head, trying to catch my breath. The floor did indeed glisten in the light of the kitchen lamp. A puddle. From me. From what he squeezed out of me again and again.... continue reading

My mother-in-law recently moved in with us. Antonina Gennadyevna is 56 years old now. She spent her entire life as the head of our foundry. She definitely didn't look 56; you wouldn't put her past 40. She had a big, toned butt, matching breasts, a stern face, and her hair was always pulled back into a ponytail. So my mother-in-law moved in with us. And as the old joke goes, she has already eaten away at her son-in-law’s, that is, me, brain. - I'll give your mother a punch in the face soon if she doesn't stop! "Seryozha, please forgive me, just be patient a little longer! She'll buy herself a new apartment soon and move out." "Yes, yes, then she'll need repairs, and who's going to help? Her son-in-law is a klutz, of course." - Well, Seryozha... Dasha kissed her husband's neck, then climbed under the covers and placed her husband's rather large penis in her mouth. She began sucking him vigorously, bringing him to bliss. Powerful stre... continue reading

- Kolya, you idiot, let me through!!! I'll be late for work!!! Kolya was, to put it mildly, a bad neighbor, and if not mildly, a jerk! Constant drinking, partying, music, and shouting until the early hours. And this very creature lived below us. And the worst part is, he was constantly picking on me and picking on me! At first, he just made stupid jokes and offered dubious compliments. Even though I'm 41 and he's a 23-year-old bitch!!! But no, he never let me pass in peace, I have a feeling that he constantly smokes in the entryway, 24/7, the asshole!!! And now, the bitch knows my husband left 30 minutes ago. And I'll tell you right away, I didn't say anything to my husband; this Kolya is as healthy as a battered horse and just as smart! And you can't report him to the police, what am I supposed to say? He won't let me go down the stairs? We live on the fifth, top floor, and he lives on the fourth. And now he's standing between the floors and won'... continue reading

The scent of pine and steam hung in the air, mingling with the aroma of chilled beer. The sauna was dizzyingly hot. I sat on the bottom bunk, my back against the rough wooden wall, watching drops of water roll down my husband, Igor's, bare chest. His friends, Sergey and Anton, lounged nearby. We were all naked, covered only by small towels that had long since ceased to conceal anything. The idea of coming here, to this male citadel, had seemed daring and piquant at first. Now I realized it was a trap I'd fallen into. My friends' gazes, heavy and gliding like oil, lingered on my hips, my breasts, and between my legs. I tried to cover myself, but it was useless, and it seemed to only inflame them—and me—even more. "So, Lerka, isn't it too hot?" Sergei, the most brazen of them, asked hoarsely, his eyes fixed on my chest. I felt my nipples swell under his gaze, hardening treacherously. "It's okay, bearable," I managed to say, taking a sip of beer. T... continue reading

Grandfather Ivan sat in his chair, staring at the television, where the news blared endlessly. His head was racing, his thoughts lazy and fragmented. Life after seventy seemed like a drawn-out, slightly faded film. His body ached, his bones creaked, and the only thing that remained to remind him of his former strength and passion was the occasional morning when he rose, a stubborn and mute witness to the past. There was a knock on the door. First timidly, then more insistently. Ivan sighed, rose with a creak, and trudged to open it. Katya, the neighbor upstairs, stood behind the door. A young, devilish woman, about twenty-five. She wore a simple housecoat that had fallen open, revealing a deep neckline. Ivan couldn't help but glance down at the firm curves protruding from beneath the thin fabric and felt a familiar throb in his groin. "Uncle Vanya, I'm sorry to bother you," her voice was clear, a little guilty. "The faucet in my bathroom is leaking again, it'... continue reading