During his absence, Michael asked me, among other things, to tidy up the pool in the backyard, as I'm an expert in that area. This time, Amanda greeted me politely, mindful of the spanking. By midday, I'd tidied up the pool and the surrounding area, then returned to the house, thinking of ways to further amuse myself with the girl. Amanda was in the living room watching television. I noticed two voices coming from behind the door; her sister, Mary, apparently, was not alone. "Amanda," I began, "your brother asked me to fix the pool in your backyard, and I did it. I don't know if you can use it..." Amanda gasped in excitement, then clapped her hands and exclaimed: - Hooray!! Thank you so much! I can swim now! With these words she ran to the door, opened it slightly and called: - Come in, let's go swimming! “Amanda, who did you call?” I asked. - Mary, she has her friend now... "Amanda, when I was cleaning the pool, there were a lot of piles of feces... 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

Friday. That long-awaited day when the work week ends and two days lie ahead that can be spent on anything. We were sitting in the living room: me, my wife Lera, and two of my friends, Sergey and Igor. We'd known each other for what felt like ages, gone to school together, been hooligans together. Now, here we were, drinking beer together at home, lounging on the couch. There was a certain tension. And it was all Lera's fault. She was dressed in a peculiar way: a short black dress, barely covering her hips, which perfectly hugged her firm butt and small but beautiful breasts. She was braless. I'd noticed this earlier in the day, when she bent over to pick something up and her dark aureola showed through the thin fabric. Back then, it had only given me a rush of lust and the thought, "It's going to be hot tonight." But now, under Sergey and Igor's gaze, this thought became alarming. They stared at her without restraint. Igor, stocky and strong, his arms co... 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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I sat in a chair in the corner of our living room, watching the candlelight cast shadows on the walls. The light was subdued, almost intimate, but there was something heavy in the air. My wife, Lera, stood at the bar, idly stirring a cocktail in a tall glass. She was 32, but she looked flawless: long dark hair flowing over her shoulders, a tight black dress that emphasized every curve of her body - a thin waist, rounded hips, breasts that seemed about to burst from the cleavage. She knew how to present herself. She knew I was watching. And she knew how it affected me. I, Artem, 35, am an ordinary middle manager, with a receding hairline and a habit of slouching when I'm nervous. It's not that I'm ugly, but next to Lera I always felt... smaller. She was like fire, and I was like a smoldering ember about to go out. We'd been married for seven years, and somewhere along the way our marriage had turned into a strange dance of love, habit, and... this. This. This. Lera gl... 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

Let me start by saying that I am married. My wife is different from other wives in every way. She has a figure that all our friends and neighbors envy. Size 4 breasts, firm shape, thin waist and long legs, from the ears. She spends three times more money on her body than on food, and dresses at the expense of boyfriends at her own work. I do not mind. She does what she wants. But this bitch does not want to cheat on me. No, I do not want a divorce and scandals, it is just my male nature that from the very beginning of family life, I would like to see my woman in the hands of others. I really want someone to fuck her, and I saw it. But she has been and is against it all her life. This woman is faithful as a monkey. She walks around all the time. She thinks only about me and even at work, asking how she communicates with colleagues, everyone says that she talks only about her husband. Why do they dress her? There are plenty of suitors there. Both visitors and local shareholders. And s... continue reading

A small camp site on the shore of the Azov Sea. One-story houses with an attic and a glassed-in veranda. There are six of us: my wife Valya and I, Valya’s friend Nadya and her husband Yura, and Yurkin’s friend and his wife, I don’t remember their names, they’re just extras here.

Evening, the barbecue is burning, barbecue is being fried, we are drinking wine. Everyone had already drunk well. Everyone went for a walk to the sea, I stayed by the barbecue. I finished cooking the kebabs, put them on a large plate and went to the house for something. It was about 11 pm, already dark.

Entering the veranda, through the glass I saw some movement near the neighboring house. Has stopped. In the shadow of the house, hiding from the light of the lantern, my Valya kissed Yurka.

Maybe I'm some kind of pervert, but I always wanted to see how someone fights my Valyushka. I watched from behind the glass as Yurka greedily kissed my wife, his hands rummaged all over her body, got into her shorts,... continue reading

I pretended to be drunk and lay down on the second shelf. My wife continued to sit at the table and drink cognac with her fellow travelers.

It must be said that they were strong guys and they drank quite a bit, but one got the impression that alcohol had no effect on them. Nevertheless, they allowed themselves to tell dirty jokes and make jokes. And my wife was already pretty drunk and laughed at every joke. Everyone agreed. We agreed to play for money. And my wife, not understanding what she was doing, agreed. They let her win a couple of times, and then, raising the stakes, the guys showed everything they were capable of - my missus lost 2.5 thousand dollars. I was shocked, we had this amount, but if my wife gave it away, then our vacation in Crimea, where we were going, would be covered. Apparently the amount of alcohol I drank allowed me to lie quietly and watch what was happening.

“We are all money on the table,” said Arthur (the second’s name was Givi - they were both Azer... continue reading