Night had enveloped the city. The moon shimmered in the sky, surrounded by stars like a circle. I stepped outside into a pleasant, warm day. A gentle breeze blew, fluttering the leaves, and I walked forward, determined to take a stroll. I was dressed charmingly. No underwear, just black lace fishnet stockings and red open-toed shoes... On top, I wore a snow-white, translucent blouse and a short black skirt that barely covered my butt. I must say, I looked amazing. I'm 5'4" tall and weigh 167g. My breasts are a D cup, and my large nipples are visible through my blouse... It was nice to stroll through the park, feeling the breeze between my legs. How he caressed me, oh, that libertine!)) I was humming one of my tunes cheerfully as I walked along the park path. It was quite dark, and only the moon lit my way. As I turned the corner, I felt someone's presence. It was a little frightening and at the same time incredibly arousing... I felt my nipples tense in anticipation.... continue reading

There's a darkness within each of us. For some, it's thicker, while for others, it's a barely perceptible, yet still dirty, cloud. Some hide their dark side from society, while others are mostly pure and bright, but somewhere deep within them lie hidden actions that are best left unseen. This story centers on an ordinary married couple. The husband, let's call him Nikolai, the wife, let's call her Nina, and a son and daughter, whose names are of no use to us. And then something happened in their lives that could tear the family apart. His loving and beloved wife, in every sense, was recovering from her second childbirth, and Kolya couldn't be happier. She was becoming more beautiful, and most importantly, the spark that had once attracted him was rekindled. Nina was regaining her usual self-confidence, her easy smile with or without reason, and her love of sex. The latter had been difficult for a long time. Before the children arrived, she was an uncontrollab... continue reading

Let me start with my age. I'm 54. I recently went to the countryside to get some heating installed at our dacha. They put me up with an old lady who lived next door. She was an ordinary old lady, and very easy to talk to. She often used swear words in conversation, making jokes. Her jokes were often below the belt. She was pleasant-looking, plump, with a huge ass and seven-cup breasts. Her name was Anna Semyonovna. I arrived at the site in the late afternoon. When we sat down to dinner, she poured me a shot and shared it with me. I thanked her for the treat and went to bed. The next morning, my hostess woke me to the clatter of dishes as she bustled about in the kitchen. A light breakfast and I was already at the site, which was located on the neighboring property. I worked all day, breaking only for lunch. “And I’m following you,” I heard Anna Semyonovna’s voice as I was installing the fasteners. “What is it?” I responded. "Okay, it's time for lunch. War is war, but lun... continue reading

The beach was crowded. On this day, as luck would have it, the sun was merciless, forcing my friend and I to bury ourselves in the sand to avoid direct sunlight on our tender, youthful bodies. Vova and I were inseparable, so wherever he went, I went too. It was the same this time. Having suggested we take a stroll to the beach, I agreed without hesitation to what I considered a rash and ill-timed excursion. But there was no time to whine about it, as I was intrigued by the girls in bathing suits who seemed drawn to stroll by our lounge chair. I was certainly happy with the situation, but I wanted more. And I wanted instant, uncontrollable sex with these long-legged, busty furies. But this remained just an unrealizable fantasy, considerably overheated by the hot, parching sun. Having stopped dreaming of the impossible, I turned my attention to the next group of girls walking along the sand, deftly twisting their buns, inflaming in me the desire to make full use of their asses. "G... continue reading

Abeba is 23 years old. Black skin. If Latika's was chocolate brown, Abeba's was a dark brown. She has a big butt, large breasts, and is probably as tall as Manana, with large, full lips and dandelion-like hair like all African women. Her father was the African ambassador to our city, so when she came of age, he brought her here to study, especially since she had a passion for archaeology. There was much unexplored back home in Africa. I'd always had my eye on her; I liked that type of girl. It was probably because of Manana. Abeba spoke fluent Russian with a slight accent. This is probably my favorite story from my diary, I have never had sex like this with anyone, Manana and my aunt don’t count. So one day, when the higher mathematics lesson ended, the teacher asked me to stay a little longer. "Maxim, I have a task, or rather a request. I simply don't have time at work, let alone with tutoring at home. There's an African girl named Abeba in her second year;... continue reading

Artyom stepped off the commuter train with a heavy backpack over his shoulders and immediately felt the hot July air envelop his skin. The station was almost empty, just an old woman with baskets and a couple of local kids on bikes. He texted Aunt Nika to let her know he'd arrived, and a minute later he saw her white SUV pulling into the parking lot. Veronika Sergeyevna stood by the open car door, wearing a light beige dress with thin straps. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and she wore large sunglasses. She looked about thirty, at most, though Artyom knew for a fact she'd turned thirty-seven in January. She'd been divorced for three years, had no caravan, and lived alone in a large house outside the city, teaching yoga in two studios. "Well, hello there, nephew!" She smiled broadly, stepped forward, and hugged him so tightly that he felt her chest spring against him. Her scent was light, citrusy, with a hint of spice. The hug lasted a couple of second... continue reading

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