Pushing my hair over my shoulder, I inadvertently run my fingers down my neck, brushing against my collarbones, and a warm wave of memories, desire, and pleasure runs through my body. No, he never does that - our desire when we meet is too strong for such unobtrusive foreplay - but for some reason it is this reflex of my body that my memory associates with him, as, indeed, many others, and it is so attractive with its delicate, sharp sweetness, like the taste of caramel-mint ice cream. This chain of associations, memories and desires is impossible to break - although I have never tried, why would I? I close my eyes and imagine his hands unbuttoning my dress, his fingers touching my breasts, freeing me of all excess fabric. They squeeze my nipples, and they instantly harden, and I feel the growing wetness below, under the lace of my underwear. Then his lips encircle one nipple, then the other... And I want to press him to me, I stroke his hair, stretch my whole body toward him, archi... continue reading

A cold wind drove gray, stinging snow through the streets, melting it into mud beneath the wheels of the cars. The city lived its own harsh, oil-fueled life. It wasn't pretty, but it was as strong as a fist. Those who didn't fear long months in the north, far from home, on endless shifts, made good money here. Pyotr was one of them. Milana, standing by the window of their old, not yet completely empty apartment, watched the twilight swallow the gray panel buildings. Longing. Deep, aching, like an aching tooth. She was twenty-seven, and she had spent most of those last three years waiting. Waiting for a call, a message, a return. Peter was her husband, her love, and her greatest source of anxiety. A tall, lean, dark-haired man with a stubborn chin and jealous eyes, he graduated from the Oil and Gas Institute and dedicated his life to endless business trips. She, on the other hand, was an advertising executive, or, as it's fashionable to say these days, an SMM specialist.... continue reading

Anya woke up in the morning; her husband was already at work. She lay in her white bed, wearing a black nightgown with thin straps, naked, her nipples protruding. Anya picked up her laptop, opened it, and went to the website of the café where she'd been married the day before yesterday. She opened a photo of herself kneeling in a white wedding dress, a white veil covering her head, surrounded by Caucasian men. She stared at the photo and recalled how this group of ten men had fucked her mouth, how she'd taken turns taking black cocks and sucking their heads. The girl's left hand moved down to her smoothly shaved pussy, and she placed her palm on her already wet pussy and began to caress her labia, brushing her clitoris with her index finger. With her right hand, she exposed her right breast, which lay over her black nightgown, and with two fingers began to squeeze her pink nipple, occasionally making circles with her fingers over her pink areola. The girl remembered how... continue reading

The story was written to order for my beloved reader and published with his approval. Background: The Perfect Cell Yana married Oleg at twenty-two. He was ten years older, confident, and as steady as a Swiss watch. He was the epitome of success: a burgeoning career, an expensive car, a spacious apartment in a prestigious neighborhood. For many of her friends, she had won the lottery of life. But after three years of marriage, Yana realized she'd won a ticket into a gilded cage, albeit a cage nonetheless. Their life was scheduled down to the minute: Oleg's work, his business dinners, their rare social outings where he'd talk business deals and she'd have to sit there, smile prettily, and nod. Her own life, her dreams of something more than decoration, were slowly fading. Oleg loved her, but he loved her as a valuable possession, as part of his successful image. He adored her beauty, but he took it for granted, like a pretty painting on the wall, something he could occ... continue reading

Almost two months had passed since that unexpected, heady, risk-filled sex with Misha in the movie theater and my provocative naked stroll under a down jacket. During that time, we met at our rented apartment only a couple of times, and our encounters began to lose their former intensity, becoming a predictable ritual. First, Misha would perform oral sex on me, which greatly aroused me, his tongue tracing leisurely circles on my clit, making my whole body shudder in anticipation. Then he would put me on all fours on the bed and, firmly gripping my hips, fuck me for about 30 minutes with his thick cock, accompanied by my moans and screams. Each thrust echoed like a dull thud in my uterus, and a burning heat spread through my back and buttocks. Then he would come on my back, and I would feel hot streams of sperm spreading across my skin, leaving sticky trails. Then we would go to the shower, where we would wash each other. Hands sliding over my wet body washed away traces of passion,... continue reading

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