It’s been a while since I posted the story that leads up to this but this is a continuation of the story of my, then wife’s best friend. TLDR: my ex wife, Tori, liked to show off my dick to her friends, her friend, Diana, came to visit and we had some fun as a group. This story takes place the following morning.

The following morning I woke up and got out of bed to try and get my day started. I lean over and kiss Tori, tell her how amazing last night was and ask if she wants any coffee. She grumbles a yes and requests some excedrin as well. I throw on some sweats and tshirt and head to the kitchen. I return with some coffee and meds for Tori. She thanks me and asks if Diana is up. I say I had not heard from her yet. Tori tells me to go check on her and take her some coffee. As I am walking out, Tori says, “make sure you get her whatever she needs.” I don't think much of this comment assuming she means coffee, water, meds etc.

I make another cup of coffee and head downstairs to chec... continue reading

I love to watch. That's my greatest thrill—to see my wife turn into an insatiable bitch under someone else's control, while still being mine. Lena and I have been together for eight years, and in that time I've realized: her sexuality is like fine wine, only getting brighter with age. Tall, with shoulder-length, wheat-colored hair, languid gray eyes, and long legs—she's the kind of woman that even women turn heads. But the main thing about her is her appetite. Not for food, no. For cocks. When we started renovating our new two-room apartment, I knew how it would end. Lena volunteered to oversee the process while I was at work, and I just chuckled to myself. She put on her favorite summer dress—a lightweight cotton one over her bare skin, the slightest movement clinging to her butt so tightly that the outline of her panties was visible. White heeled sandals, minimal makeup—and there she was, standing in the doorway, watching me go with a look in which I read anticipat... continue reading

That summer, my husband and I headed south for the first time in two years. Money was tight in '92, so a compartment was out of the question. We bought two tickets for a reserved seat carriage to Adler. I was twenty-four then. I had a shapely figure: a pleasant curve in my hips, a wasp waist, and neat B-cup breasts with very responsive nipples. I dyed my hair red back then—my husband absolutely loved it, saying I looked like a fox. The journey ahead was long, almost two days. We were riding on the upper side berths. A guy of about twenty-five sat down opposite us. He was dressed simply but cleanly: a light T-shirt and sweatpants. His toned physique immediately caught my eye—his sculpted arms and broad chest. He introduced himself as Dima. He was traveling to visit his parents in Sochi, having just been discharged from the army. My husband, Slava, a sociable man, immediately suggested that Dima and I get together for the three of us. We packed fried chicken, boiled eggs, tomatoes... continue reading

Redditor Recognized Me On a Cruise

Last month I was on an MSC cruise with my hubby. We had a Yacht Club cabin. (Btw, it is amazing!)

We always try to make some naughty videos and pics when we travel.

So on the second day, we went out to the Yacht Club pool early. No one was around so we went one of the hot tubs that was empty and got a few naughty pics. Tits, pussy—you know the drill.

We were laying on a lounger by the pool and hubby posted the pics because we were doing a series. Day 1, Day2, etc.

Within a couple of minutes I get a DM on Reddit asking me if I was on the ship, at the pool. A few DMs back and forth confirmed the Redditor and I were on the same ship at the same pool and he definitely recognized me. He knew what bikini I was wearing and what I was drinking, etc.

Now, I still had no idea who this guy was. I was concerned because 1. He might be a creep; and 2. I was not advertising my online activities! I’ve never had a fan recognize me IRL before. I mean what a... continue reading

My name is Igor, I'm 32 years old, and my wife, Katya, is 29. We've been married for six years, and over those years, I've come to think I know absolutely everything about her. But I'll never forget my last birthday. It all started on a typical Friday morning. Katya woke me with a kiss, congratulated me, and handed me an envelope containing some kind of travel voucher—honestly, I didn't even read it right away because she looked absolutely stunning. A light silk robe, barely covering her hips, her hair loose, the scent of her favorite perfume. I pulled her toward me, but she deftly slipped away, smiled mysteriously, and said, "This evening will be a real treat, don't even think about getting out of it." Honestly, I thought she was talking about some special lingerie or a romantic dinner. The day went by as usual—work, calls, bustle. Katya texted me to be home by eight, take a shower, and await further instructions. She generally loved to boss me aroun... continue reading

(All characters named or otherwise are at, or well above, the age of 18)

Obligatory this happened more than a decade ago before I was really and true a slut. I also hope my friend never finds this. My friend never finds this because I think she knew something was up and some details here would confirm it. MJ, I just want you to know, I’d do it again, don’t read this I’m about to fuck your mom.

The Summer I graduated Highschool was an amazing time. I had so many things that happened. There were parties at the lake almost every weekend. At one of these take parties some friends of mine, who had been deep in their cups for a while, suggested that we go skinny dipping. I say suggested what I mean was they ripped their tops and bottoms off screamed “Skinny dipping” and cannon balled into the lake. Now 19 year old sins didn’t drink or do drugs, but when a bunch of people get naked and jump in the lake, it’s pretty to follow suit and de-suit.

One thing I don’t miss about partying as a t... continue reading

When Yulia told me she'd invited my boss to dinner, I didn't understand the implication at first. I figured my wife was trying to give me a career boost, feed him some homemade food, and win him over. I wasn't opposed. Viktor Sergeyevich, my direct supervisor for the past five years, is a generally decent guy. He's in his early fifties, with a hint of gray hair, a trim figure, and always smells nice. He's a widower. Yulia cooked all day. She twirled around the kitchen in a short robe, and a couple of times I caught myself staring at her bare thighs as she reached for spices on the top shelf. I also noticed something else: she had put on her robe without underwear. Her pussy, still untouched by the razor but already neatly trimmed, flashed with every careless movement. I slapped her on the ass, laughed, and said something about a horny housewife. She smiled, but it was a bit too mysterious. "Maybe I should walk around like this in front of the boss too?" s... continue reading

The highway was empty. I pressed the gas pedal too hard, rushing home after a bad date. Anger and frustration burned inside me, and I longed for speed. The red lights of a patrol car flashed unexpectedly behind me. I cursed under my breath and pulled over to the side of the road. The inspector approached slowly, the beam of his flashlight gliding across the car, across my bare knees. I rolled down the window. "License and car documents," the voice was low and brutal. "You're speeding by forty kilometers, citizen." "Sorry, I'm in a hurry," I handed over the documents, trying to speak softly. The flashlight still shone in my face, and then the beam slowly crept lower, down my neck, to the neckline of my light sundress. My breathing quickened. "The punishment for such violations is severe," he said, walking around the car and opening the door on my side. "Get out." I stepped out. My legs were shaking slightly for some reason. He stood ver... continue reading

My mother-in-law arrived at our apartment and I could tell that my wife felt something was off because I was being quiet and was probably acting like I was nervous. Unlike before, my mother-in-law didn't hug me and only gave me a quick 'hello'.

I suggested my wife's favorite restaurant for dinner, which seemed to help to lighten the mood somewhat. When the food arrived, the two of them talked like usual and I ate in silence, waiting for the bomb to drop.

When we were finishing up and nothing had happened, I was starting to think that she had changed her mind and wasn't going to say anything at all, but all of a sudden my mother-in-law said something to my wife in French and I could tell it was more serious from the tone.

My wife looked over at me and said, "Oh, my mom says she wants to talk to me alone. Would it be okay?"

I was at the kitchen sink washing my hands, and I answered, "Sure, I'll go for a ride. Text me when you want me back."

Honestly, it was a relief that I wasn't g... continue reading

Everything started to spiral when our Olimp chain fitness club was acquired by Golden Energy. For me, a Pilates instructor, it was a low blow. Rumors of personnel purges were terrifying: even star trainers were being fired. I'm thirty-two, I maintain the figure of a twenty-five-year-old, and this place was my bread and butter. Three days after signing the documents, the five of us instructors were called into the main hall for an "interview." The new manager, Denis, a strong, muscular man in his forties, sat in a leg press chair. Beside him stood his three assistants—equally muscular "muscle men." The conversation began with banalities: training plans, attendance statistics. Then Denis put down his protein shake and asked point-blank: — Tell me, Angelina, is this job your last chance? “Yes,” I exhaled, clutching my fitness tracker. "Okay. New rules. Your work attire is leggings one size too small and a sports bra with no support. You leave your bra in the loc... continue reading

A few years ago me (25) and my girlfriend Stephanie (24) had some friends get married in another city. It was close enough to drive, which was lucky because we were broke. It wasn't close enough to drive back that night, which was also lucky, but seemed unlucky at the time.

The bride was one of Stephanie's friends, so most of the people we knew were other women in their friend group. To save money Steph asked me if I would be willing to share a hotel room with some of them, so I said yes and didn't think anything else about it until we checked in for the weekend.

We happened to arrive at the same time as the others, so standing at the check-in counter was where I found out that we were sharing a room with two queen beds with four other women. Apparently no one else's boyfriends had wanted to come.

Maybe this sounds hot, but at the time I was annoyed. Having to have a third person in the bed was a virtual guarantee that I would be on the outside with Stephanie in the middle, with no... continue reading

cant believe im back here posting a part 2 already but after that **first time jerking off my friend with the broken arm it was all i could think about nonstop. his thick veiny cock throbbing in my hand and all that built up cum shooting out** because of me left me soaked for days. heres pt1:

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so for the next couple days i kept replaying it every night touching myself imagining more and yeah i couldnt stop thinking about his dick even when we hung out like normal friends watching movies or whatever. my eyes would drift down to his shorts remembering how hard he got just from talking about it. a few days later his arm was still in that heavy cast and he was resting on the couch complaining about how bored and frustrated he felt so i sat next to him my pussy already getting wet just from being close.

i told him straight up that i had been thinking about his cock constantly and wanted to help him out again. he looked surprised but that bulge started growing right awa... continue reading

Friday evening was lazy. I was lounging on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels, when the doorbell rang. Standing there was Inga, my neighbor downstairs. A tall, athletic brunette, the kind I usually only greeted in the elevator. She looked nervous, her long hair pulled back into a messy bun. "Dima, I'm so sorry," she babbled. "My kitchen faucet blew, a pipe burst, I turned the water off, but I'm afraid to turn it back on—I'm afraid to flood it completely. You said you were a tech savvy person, right?" I rummaged around sparingly, but helping my neighbor was a sacred duty. I threw on a T-shirt and went downstairs to get her. Her apartment smelled of something spicy. Walking into the kitchen, I assessed the scale of the disaster: streaks on the ceiling, wet rags on the floor, and a puddle under the sink. Inga stood nearby, nervously fiddling with the hem of her short housedress. I crouched down and examined the pipe. Replacing the gasket was a s... continue reading

I came all over my sister-in-law in a private steam room while our spouses were gone.

And the worst part is, I still catch myself arguing the technicalities.

We didn’t have sex.

We didn’t kiss.

She never touched my cock.

I never touched her pussy.

Technically.

Which is a stupid fucking word when you’re talking about your brother-in-law’s wife standing naked in front of you with your cum on her stomach.

This happened last Christmas in Koh Samui, Thailand. I’m married. She’s married. I love my wife. I’m not going to pretend it was an accident.

My wife is Korean, from LA. We’ve been married three years. I get along with most of her family, but her younger brother Adam has always annoyed me. Younger, richer, louder – the type who turns every conversation into a contest.

His wife Melissa was a lot.

29, half-Korean, half-Australian, tall with long dark hair, smooth olive skin, and a yoga body she knew exactly how to use. She has over 100k IG... continue reading

Our company sold expensive foreign cars. We had a peculiar team: the managers were all hardened windbags in cheap but well-pressed suits, the secretaries had silicone-like everything, and then we—the service department. The techies. There were three of us: Sanya, Dan, and me. We didn't wear suits, we swore, and we were the only ones who actually understood how all these fancy cars worked, and weren't just kissing customers' asses for a percentage of the sale. Taras Arkadyevich was the head of this entire cesspool. A fat, sweaty man in his late sixties with a perpetually purple neck and a gold signet ring on his little finger. He yelled at everyone, delayed wages, and considered himself a business genius simply because he'd once borrowed money and opened a dealership in the right location. We quietly hated him, but tolerated him because he gave us the opportunity to tinker with expensive cars and occasionally make a small profit on spare parts. But he had one asset wh... continue reading

It was a Saturday afternoon in July. The sun was at its zenith, and the air shimmered with heat. My parents had gone into town to shop, leaving me, twenty-three-year-old Liza, to have the dacha to myself. I put on my most revealing swimsuit—a tiny, sky-blue bikini with ties at the hips. After a moment's thought, I removed my bra, tossing it onto a nearby lounge chair. Sunbathing topless on my own property, surrounded by a high fence and not a soul, seemed like a wonderful and perfectly safe idea. My skin, slicked with coconut oil for tanning, glistened. I closed my eyes, turning my face and chest to the sun. A gentle breeze stirred my hair, pulled back into a loose bun. My thoughts drifted lazily, and I almost dozed off. My body was covered in a light sweat, beads of sweat rolling down between my breasts and onto my stomach. - Lisa, hi! Am I disturbing you? A voice came from somewhere off to the side, from the neighbor's fence. I sat up abruptly, instinctively covering my ch... continue reading

Those were hard times, but charming in their own way. I was working at the time for a company that sold everything from Turkish knitwear to computer diskettes. There was money, but there were also plenty of headaches. That's how I found myself in a reserved seat carriage on the Moscow-Kurgan train with a briefcase stuffed with cash. An astronomical sum by those standards—about twenty thousand dollars, I think. I was taking it to a business associate with strict instructions: don't meet anyone, don't drink, and don't leave the carriage. I chose a reserved seat on purpose—to blend in among the common folk, rather than be seen in the sleeper car, where every Tambourine punk identifies business travelers by the scent of their cologne. I rode on the bottom berth, pretending to be a tired worker, and gazed out the window at the passing birch trees. The boring town of Kurgan was still about eighteen hours away. At one of the stations—somewhere beyond Murom, I think—SHE floa... continue reading

To start, I’m a man who enjoys a decent backstory, so if you’d like to skip right to the dirt, find the line.

Back in my sophomore year of college, I had recently been dumped by my first and only girlfriend. It was a high school thing that didn’t survive the college experience as so many don’t. This left me with three things: a bruised ego, a starving cock, and an over abundance of time on my hands. The first two I simply tried to remedy with frequent nights out at the bar, but the excess time left me a bit listless.

I was studying STEM but had always had a passion for writing, so I decided to submit a short-story to a college sponsored contest and somehow ended up as one of the finalists. Next thing I know I’m receiving information about some event I’m supposed to attend in which I will meet other finalists and read a portion of the story in front of a crowd. Not exactly my scene, but fuck it, my ego could use the boost.

The night goes by without much excitement. I read my stuff al... continue reading

Friends think I'm a model family man. Colleagues think I'm a quiet, henpecked husband. But I'm just a guy who realized: my dick only gets hard when I know someone else has already been inside my wife. And the dirtier, the rougher it is, the more hands and dicks there are, the harder it shakes me. Polina understood this before I did. She brought me into this life—the life of a cuckold who waits in the bushes, in the closet, behind the vegetable crates. Waiting to lick it off later. My wife Polina had completely developed a taste for infidelity and no longer hid the fact that she enjoyed being used roughly, without ceremony. She began staying late more often "on business" and always returned home with that same smell that drove me crazy. In mid-August, Polina said she was going to the vegetable market to pick up some seasonal fruit. She was wearing a light summer dress that barely covered her butt, and no underwear. I immediately realized it had nothing to do with... continue reading

hey everyone i need to get this off my chest because its been replaying in my head nonstop since it happened.

**TLDR: this is about my close friend who broke his right arm pretty badly. his hand was stuck in a heavy cast and he was complaining nonstop about how frustrating everything was especially taking care of himself.**

**I ended up helping him out as friends and jerking him off hahahah**

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one night we were hanging out at his place just watching movies and he looked super tense.

he finally admitted he hadnt cum in over a week because jerking off with his left hand felt awkward and the cast made it impossible to get comfortable. i felt bad for him and one thing led to another and i offered to help him out.

at first he laughed it off thinking i was joking but when i stayed serious and told him it was no big deal between friends he got quiet. i could see the bulge already forming in his shorts just from the conversation. i sat closer on the couch a... continue reading