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

My head felt quite heavy, and my thoughts were all jumbled up from the alcohol. Several months had passed since Ira and I broke up, but no matter how hard I tried not to think about her, it just wasn't working, so I drowned my obsessions and nagging thoughts in cognac. I lay down on my couch when I suddenly heard a knock at the door. I reluctantly stood up, walking from the living room into the small hallway where the front door was. I looked through the peephole and couldn't believe what I saw. I opened the door, and there stood Ira, still as beautiful and sexy as ever. She was wearing short black shorts and a crop top that barely covered her pink, erect nipples. Ira is a petite 23-year-old brunette, 155 cm tall, with a pretty face, small but graceful breasts, a thin waist, and a rounded bottom. "Hi, Pash!" Ira said shyly, looking me in the eyes. "Will you let me in?" “Hi... yes, of course, come in,” I barely managed to get the words out, trying to collect m... 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

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

Moscow in October smelled of wet asphalt and the smoke from the chestnuts roasted by the babushkas outside the metro. Anna walked along Tverskaya Street, her heels clicking on the tiles like a metronome counting down to the next casting. Her long black hair, pulled back into a loose ponytail, swayed in the wind, and her ivory coat accentuated her figure—the kind that made men turn their heads and women purse their lips ever so slightly. She was twenty-five, and she still believed that beauty wasn't a curse, but simply a fact, like rain or snow. At the agency, they called her a "gentle muse," but Anna knew that tenderness was a mask concealing the weariness of endless "turn around, smile, look just below the shoulder." At home, in their small apartment, whose windows overlooked a narrow courtyard dotted with stunted linden trees, Valera was waiting. He was ten years older, a manager at Sberbank, with a neat beard and eyes that always held a lurking smile—not ironi... continue reading

My wife, Tonya, and I have been living as husband and wife for a whole year now. My name is Igor, and I'm thirty-two. My wife, Tonya, is only twenty-seven. There's a five-year age difference between us, but we don't feel it at all. I don't feel older, and she doesn't feel younger. We're just living. After my grandmother died, I inherited her one-room apartment in an old panel building. That's where Tonya and I are living. My wife doesn't want to have children yet. She keeps telling me that first we need to get back on our feet, pay off the loans, and do some renovations. Well, I'm not rushing her. I understand her concerns, so I don't bring it up myself, so as not to put unnecessary pressure on her. Tonya and I met under somewhat odd circumstances. She came to work for a new assistant. Our team was mostly male, and almost everyone was married. Tonya was young, vibrant, and immediately attracted attention. But she ignored the advances of single... continue reading

Four in the morning. The brokerage app made me sick. The red numbers stubbornly slid down, like beads of pus from an unhealing wound. I closed it and opened Instagram. The first photo was of Karina. She was sitting on the windowsill in my shabby room, the dank courtyard, a well of damp brick, behind her. But she looked like an alien who had wandered into a dump. Dark hair pulled back into a careless bun, eyes that knew the value of their beauty. Cunning, damn it. Followers in the comments called her "angel" and "goddess." They didn't see the way she looked at me when she wanted to. VKontakte was buzzing with memes about deadlines and perpetual poverty. I scrolled through them like shuffling my bare feet across a dirty floor. Then I switched to Telegram. Karina shared a sticker—a lewd anime hentai where the character's eyes were the size of her own breasts. And the caption: "Miss your boobs?" The air in the room was stale, smelling of dust, cold tea, a... 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

A friend of mine, Seryoga, told me about it. He and I were in the same class at university. He met this romantic woman. Blonde. Lips as big as a horse's. Curvy, a little slow. But it was clear she had very earthly thoughts—getting fucked hard. There are students like that—it's written all over their faces. They come to university not so much to study as to end up in some cute guy's bed and spread their legs. And then they tease their friends, saying, "Nobody fucks you!" Seryoga was cute. Also blond. With a good sense of humor. And so, he says, he came to her dorm. He brought cake. They sat down and drank tea. What else should they do? Not read books, after all. He started groping her. He unbuttoned her robe, and there was her bra. He reached into her bra and started feeling her nipples. They were also large, like cherries. Her areolas were wide, dark, and bumpy. He got turned on, of course. Victoria noticed it and placed her palm on his bulge. And so they sat the... continue reading

Get-togethers with friends rarely end well. Especially when there are several empty bottles of whiskey on the table and your best friend has just left for the graveyard shift, leaving you alone with his exhausted wife. I stayed overnight on their stretched-out couch because I couldn't drive in my current state. My head was buzzing, my groin felt pleasantly tingly from the alcohol, and the whole world seemed a little blurry and malleable. Lisa fell asleep almost immediately, right there in the chair. I'd been watching her for the last half hour. The way her head slowly slumped onto her chest, the way her heavy eyelashes fell onto her cheeks. She was damn beautiful. Redhead, sprinkled with freckles, with a curve that made your mouth water. And her smile when she laughed... I'd caught myself staring at her many times. At my friend's wife, for fuck's sake. I got up from the couch and walked closer. She was fast asleep, breathing evenly. She smelled of whiskey and her... continue reading

Do you remember that corporate party I was planning for so long? The black dress, those heels I could barely walk in? You know, the one you couldn't go to because you had the flu. So... Sit down. I need to tell you something. It all started with wine. Lots of wine. That idiotic chanting contest, Sergei Mikhailovich, my boss, that mustachioed goat that everyone complains about, he was sitting next to me. He kept pouring me more. He said that I was the most beautiful today, that he hadn't even noticed such an assistant in his office. And he kept staring at my cleavage. I saw where he was looking, damn it. Then the music started loud, dancing. He pressed himself against me in the crowd, I felt his palm on my lower back. So hot, so heavy. I tried to move away, but he didn’t take his hand away. He whispered: “Let’s get out of here, it’s too noisy here. Let’s go to my office, I have some good cognac there.” And I... I knew that I shouldn’t. But the wine in my head was like a fog,... continue reading

Aunt Olya is my mom's friend. A cool chick, about forty, but beautiful and well-groomed. Divorced a long time ago. A MILF, in a word. Mom always said: "Olya is so independent, a businesswoman." And I just saw a cool figure, big breasts and a smile that gave me an involuntary erection. It was just that my mom went to grandma's for the weekend, and Aunt Olya's home internet wasn't working. I'm still a student myself, studying to be a programmer, and I can 100% fix a router. She called my mom, who hired me: "Go to Olya's, help her, she's going crazy without internet." I came to her. She opened the door in her housecoat. Not exactly transparent, but worn on her naked body, I realized that right away. The tie was barely holding, and when she turned to adjust the slipper, I saw her entire back and the outline of her ass. So hard, so round. The blood rushed to my head. - Oh, Sasha, thank you for coming! - she says, smiling as if we weren't go... continue reading

I decided to leave work early. My boss, of course, grumbled, but I told him that my pipe had burst and I needed to go urgently. But in reality, I just wanted to go to the dacha. Marina left last week, saying that I needed to pick raspberries and currants. Well, I was glad to have a little rest alone. I bought some cold beer and shashlik on the way. I drive up to my plot, and at the gate is Lyokha's car, my neighbor. Well, I think, cool, I'll pop in to see him, maybe we'll have a beer. Our gate doesn't creak, I treated it with oil a week ago. I enter quietly, and from the open window of our house there are strange sounds. Not exactly screams, more like groans. Marina's voice was always quiet, but here... somehow loud. And Lyokhin's laughter. So rude, so smug. I froze. My heart immediately sank into my heels, and then hit my head. I sneak up to the window, through a crack between the curtains. And... I was stunned. They're right on our couch, the one I drag... continue reading

The rain pounded the tin roof of the bathhouse, creating a cozy, detached noise. I sat on the oak shelf, all steamed up, listening to the coals crackling in the stove, and enjoying the peace. My father had gone to town on some urgent business, promising to return only tomorrow evening. We were left at the dacha alone with Irina. My stepmother. She was young. Too young to be a father. She was barely forty, and looked thirty. Slender, fit, with a look that made my twenty-year-old self get a hard-on. I always tried not to show it, looked away when she walked past in her tight shorts or bathing suit. It was torture. The door to the steam room creaked. I turned around and was stunned. Irina was standing on the threshold. Wrapped in a small white towel that covered the most important things, but hugged her curves so tightly that it took my breath away. Her damp chestnut hair was gathered into a messy bun, her cheeks were flushed, and drops of water were running down her collarbones. “Is t... continue reading

I had been waiting for this, probably, all our family life. Six years of marriage, and Olya never agreed to take me in her mouth all the way. She always stopped at the very last moment, and I came on her chest or stomach. But that evening everything was different. We had just come from her friend's birthday party, we had had a few drinks, but not much, just a relaxed, warm mood. We made love slowly, almost lazily, and I already thought that everything was as usual. But when I turned her over on her back and knelt over her, guiding my penis to her vagina, she suddenly stopped my hand. “Wait,” she said quietly and looked at me with her big eyes, in which I could read some kind of determination mixed with embarrassment. Without saying a word, she moved over, laid me on my back, and positioned herself between my legs. My heart began to pound like a kid's. I just looked at her, at her lips, which she licked before hesitantly taking my cock in her hand. She started as usual - gent... continue reading

I got a relatively exotic name Elina. A seemingly respectable wife, 35 years old. A couple of years ago, I got tired of the measured life of my loving husband Vitya and took my appearance seriously. Diligent training, jogging for tens of kilometers did their job. Now I am a real milf. A nice slim figure, big breasts and a lush ass. Basically, there is everything to please the eye of the spouse and have sex regularly. But no matter how hard I tried, no makeup, no sexy lingerie - my intimate life did not return to its previous course. About 7 years ago, we fucked like rabbits, and now once a month, this is already happiness. At this time, I realized that monogamy is a primeval evil! In my opinion, it is she who killed all the pleasure that can only be obtained from sex. It didn't take long before I turned into a real bitch. The office staff hated me, my husband was constantly offended and didn't talk. People call it "undersexing." And everything would have continued li... continue reading

Well, I'll tell you how I fucked my mother-in-law in the bathhouse. Yes, you heard right. The same one, Natalya Petrovna, who usually looked at me like I was shit on a shoe. And this is how it happened. My wife and I went to her dacha in the village, she had just left on an urgent business trip, and I had a lot of work to do on the property. My mother-in-law, of course, lived there all summer. In the evening after work we were sitting, finishing up the shashlik. And of course we drank. Not to the point of being completely drunk, but good enough, relaxed. My mother-in-law poured me some drinks, and she looked at me in such a way... Not in a motherly way. And she was a woman, mature, of course, over fifty, but her figure... Such wide hips, a butt the size of half a trough, boobs - you could carry her in your arms. That day she was wearing a tight T-shirt, so I kept glancing at those curves out of the corner of my eye. And then she says: “Oh, the bathhouse is all heated up. Is it f... continue reading

Like all anonymous storytellers, I will introduce myself to you by a false name, because my safety depends on it, which you will understand after reading my own story of sex-cheating with a loving but very jealous husband. My name is Svetlana, I am 32 years old and for this age I have a simply magnificent body, especially my butt and firm second-size breasts, which have been crazy about since university. To be honest, I married Sergey (my husband) for convenience, because before I got a high-paying job in the HR company, I really needed money and a loved one. We never had anything special with Sergey, and even our sex was quite banal due to his widespread religiosity - he did not want me in the ass, and I just pine for the anus. Because in addition to sexual hypocrisy, my husband is also not averse to getting physical in a fit of jealous anger, because in his understanding I flirt with each of his friends and the last time I kicked him out of the house, for a while. Of course, we co... continue reading

You know, there are all sorts of confessions about sex, but sometimes it seems that everyone draws their inspiration from already filmed stories, famous studios. I myself thought so for a long time. But as it turned out one fine day, everything is much simpler. It is directors and cameramen who take situations that have already happened and try to adapt them for the viewer. My name is Lena, and this story happened to me quite a long time ago, or more precisely in the mid-00s. At that time, I was about 24 years old. Let's not dwell on the numbers, because this is a secondary matter. But perhaps it would be logical to describe my appearance a little. A tall girl with light-brown hair, but not a very outstanding figure. My chest barely reaches the 2nd size and my hips are far from wide. In one word, I can be described as "skinny". At that time I was living with a guy and we had problems with work. Constant delays in salary along with its reduction. No matter how hard my roo... continue reading

Accidentally opening the door at the wrong time, for her, I saw a beautiful maid. Coal-black hair, brown eyes, and thick black eyebrows. She wasn't wearing sexy clothes or high heels. But something about her caught my eye, and I immediately became attached to this woman, asking her how she found working here. Not knowing what to answer, she introduced herself as Linda, and immediately offered her hand. Apparently, she was new, since she didn't know who I was. We got acquainted. I forbade all my subordinates to offer me their hand, and when someone did, I recognized the newcomer, repeating over and over that this was not allowed. But I didn't tell her this. I liked the soft skin of her small hand so much that, without letting go, I began to tell her how nice it was here, and that everyone without exception gave tips, so the salary increase for the month would be significant. The woman became embarrassed, looked away. She was almost silent, and I told her and told her. How... continue reading