Last year my wife had a good friend that was going through a divorce. Her husband had filed and they were in the process of trying to sell their house This woman was in her mid thirties and her husband was the only guy she had been with in over 10 years. She was overweight (not massive but probably 230 pounds at 5'5") and was convinced no one would want her My wife seized on another opportunity to whore me out (just as much for herself as anyone involved) She asked me if I was interested in sleeping with her friend and initially I wasn't really. It wasn't her weight or looks that bothered me, I just found her kind of annoying but eventually my wife talked me into it and her friend agreed immediately I didn't have to do anything to win her over or take her out or anything. My wife set everything up with her and had her come over the next night. My wife left almost immediately and told us to have fun. I could tell her friend was nervous so I suggested we do a shot of tequila. After
Sophomore year I was pretty close with this girl named Jenna. We’d known each other since freshman year through mutual friends, hung out in the same group, grabbed food together sometimes, that kind of thing. Not best friends, but comfortable enough that we could talk about random shit without it being weird. One night, after a few too many tequila shots, she opened up to me about her lack of experience with blowjobs. Like, she'd only given one before and was super insecure about it. Next thing I know, we're back at my place and she's asking if she can, ahem, "practice" on me. I thought she was joking. She wasn’t. I said something dumb like “I mean… yeah?” and she got quiet for a second, then asked if I was actually serious. We talked about it for a few more minutes-no strings, just practice, don’t make it weird, etc. I was half convinced it would never happen again. First time was awkward as hell. She knelt between my legs on the edge of my bed, jeans still on, and just stared at
Recently went out to dinner with my wife (32) and one of her best friends(32). Her best friends husband wasn’t around due to work so only she came out to eat with us. The night was like any normal night until after the second round of espresso martinis…. Her best friend, who has always been a bit of a “light weight” started opening up about how her husband and her don’t have the best sex life currently and how she wants to be a lot more explorative like trying anal play or even a threesome since we told her we had a few experiences ourselves. She also said she wanted to start an O.F but her husband was totally against it. Well, that led to her asking if we’d want to see some of her “content”. My wife isn’t the jealous type and we both know her friend very well so it wasn’t THAT weird to say sure. So she proceeded to show us multiple full nudes of her and videos. Nothing overly sexual, just posing fully nude, more artsy than sexual but still, a nude is a nude. Her showing us then of co
This was a few months ago. I was on a break with my boyfriend, the kind where you both know it is technically a break but you are also both secretly hoping it is not permanent. My best friend and I booked a last minute trip to this party resort on the coast because we needed to do something chaotic and it felt right. Second night there we met two guys at a bar. We were all pretty drunk and one thing led to another and somehow we ended up back in our hotel room with them, more drinks, some other stuff, the whole situation escalating in that way that feels inevitable in hindsight I guess. Here is the thing. There was one double bed. Mine and my friend's. And at some point we were both on it with these guys and I remember looking over at her like... are we actually doing this? And she just kind of shrugged and smiled and that was that. It was so hot. Like unexpectedly, embarrassingly hot. We were both getting fucked right next to each other and we kept catching each other's eyes and at
Over the years of being together, my wife and I have explored different kinks and fantasies. A couple weeks ago, my wife expressed that she finds the idea of me playing with other women in front of her oddly erotic. She admitted that she was somewhat embarrassed by being turned on by such a thought, but it’s something she has a growing interest in. Initially, I was taken by surprise by this information. We share some kinky interests, but never really talked about opening our bedroom up in this way. I asked if this is truly something she would be comfortable with and she meekly nodded. At that point, she shifted the topic and the conversation ended for that night. In the following days, while engaging in foreplay, my wife would increasingly mention how hot and bothered it made her thinking about watching others have sex. She would mention how hot it would be to see me pleasure another woman and to have my way with her. I didn’t think too much of it, other than it being dirty talk, as I
I knew this visit would end badly. I knew it from the moment the guard at the tower's entrance looked at me the way one looks at a drowned man—disgusted and almost sympathetic. “To Mrs. Elena,” I said, trying to sound confident. The guard silently checked his tablet and nodded. The elevator took a long time to rise. The mirrored walls reflected my face—pale, with dark circles under my eyes from three sleepless nights. My jacket was awry, though I'd adjusted it a dozen times. The debt—a sum I wouldn't be able to raise in a year—was burning in my pocket like an IOU that too many people knew about. The penthouse greeted me with silence and cold light. Huge windows overlooked the city, but the sun didn't penetrate—the hue was gray, as if before a storm. “Alexander,” a female voice said. I turned around. Elena was standing in the doorway leading deeper into the apartment. Tall, wearing a figure-hugging dark gray dress, her hair slicked back. Next to her, slightly behind h
Back in college I used to work the afternoon-night shifts in the electronics department at Target. It was a tedious job, especially as the night went on and less people trickled through the doors. Most of us working that shift were roughly the same age, though, so it made for a lot of fun nights. I don't know about other similar retail job environments, but in that store, just about everyone was fucking someone. Some kept it lowkey, others let the drama play out in front of everyone, and others had stable, loving relationships. This is a story about the first kind. The people selling cellphones aren't regular Target employees, they're from some outside vendor that works within the electronics department. There was usually a rotation of like 3 salespeople that would come in and we'd mostly just hang out and chat. Kelsey was one of those people. The first thing that comes to mind when I think about Kelsey was that this girl looked and acted either high as a kite or tired as hell ever
I heard this story from a woman I happened to talk to on the train. She said she needed to talk, and I, she said, seemed like a good listener. I don't know how true it is, but I remembered what she told me word for word. So, the heroine—let's call her Vera. Thirty-four years old, petite and well-built, with heavy dark hair and a calm, slightly tired face. Not a cover-girl beauty, but one of those women who men linger on longer than intended. Vera worked for a small agency that officially organized private events, but unofficially found escorts. Not prostitution in the traditional sense, more like theater: dinners, receptions, trips, the occasional night out. Vera wasn't the kind of woman to be called on often. She was valued for something else: her ability to get into character. She knew how to be whatever her clients were looking for: a giggly student, a bored wife, a stern teacher. The agency called it "individual support with elements of psychological reconstructi
A centuries-old, gloomy forest stood like a wall on either side of the rutted road, sunken by recent rains. Spruce trees, like black guards, locked their shaggy paws overhead, not letting through even a ray of the midday sun. Only occasionally, somewhere high above, a solitary bird would cry out anxiously, and in the distance, an invisible quagmire would hoot heavily and piercingly. It was a godforsaken, remote place, the kind of place people used to say: "Here the devil would break his leg, and a man would lose his head." A lone carriage trundled leisurely along the bumpy road that wound through these gloomy thickets. A portly dapple-colored gelding, his ears twitching, lazily flicked his tail at horseflies. The coachman, a sleepy man, languid from the heat and the forest air, nodded off every now and then. Inside the covered carriage, upholstered in leather darkened by time, sat a young woman on embroidered cushions. Her name was Marfa Andreyevna Volkonskaya, wife of the S
It was my first party at university, and I felt out of place. I, Vlad, a first-year student—skinny, shy, and bespectacled, who blushed at every loud word—had been invited by Lera. She was a third-year student and a real star in her department: a tall, brunette with a nose piercing and a perpetually mocking gaze. I didn't understand what I'd done to deserve the invitation, but I couldn't refuse the attentions of such a girl. The apartment where they gathered was a rented two-room apartment in an older building, but tastefully furnished. Besides Lera, there were three others: Katya, a redhead with freckles and a scattering of freckles on her exposed shoulders; Alina, a short, perky woman with a pixie cut; and Sveta, a taciturn, plump blonde with a huge bust who constantly munched on potato chips. The occasion was Katya's birthday. Someone shoved a glass of some sweet disgusting thing into my hand, and the evening went downhill. The girls chatted about their own things,
The steam was so thick it was hard to see the face opposite. The guys and I had had a wonderful steam bath, drank a couple of beers, and were now lounging in the anteroom. My Verochka, my beloved wife, brought us some cold kvass. She was wearing only a short silk robe, which she pulled loosely around herself, barely covering her tempting breasts. My friends, Kolyan, Tolyan, and Seryoga, grinned lecherously. In the bathhouse, after the heat, the blood rushes, and desires intensify. Kolyan, the most daring of my friends, grabbed Vera's hand. "Why does your husband let you bathe alone, such a beauty? Let us at least check if you've washed properly." With these words, his rough paw slid under my wife's robe and greedily squeezed my wife's firm breast. Vera gasped softly, but didn't pull her hand away. She merely glanced reproachfully in my direction. But I pretended to be completely absorbed in my kvass. Then Tolyan, taking my silence as consent, came up behi
Let me start by saying it sounds much worse than it was. This was the reason I came to Reddit in the first place, to get this off my chest. Now it's time. 2 weeks ago I got a new ceiling fan for my bedroom and I needed some help installing it. I asked one of my best friend's, Amanda, if her and her husband could come help me. She said she was busy running errands, but she'd send Jason over. About 30 minutes later there was a knock at my door. Jason walks in with his ladder and I lead him to my bedroom. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray shorts. (I was wearing a loose pink tank top and black Soffe shorts, in case you were wondering.) We got into my room and I had the ceiling fan box on the bed. (This is already sounding way worse than it needs to be, just being honest.) We both sat on the bed and assembled the fan. Then it was time to install it... My bed is in the way of where it mounts, since it mounts kind of centered over my bed. I have 10 foot ceilings so standing on
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
Mid-February was gray, chilly, and incredibly winter-weary. I longed for warmth not only for my body but also for my soul. So when Sasha suggested we escape for the weekend to a country spa complex with outdoor thermal pools, I agreed without hesitation. My bags were packed in half an hour: swimsuits, robes, and a sense of anticipation. We arrived after dark. The complex, illuminated in a warm gold glow, was bathed in clouds of steam rising from the hot pools straight into the frosty sky. The contrast between the biting February air and the promise of scalding water was intoxicating in itself. After quickly changing in our room—spacious, wood-paneled, and scented with eucalyptus—we threw on white terrycloth robes and set out to explore the property. Right from the start, we were advised to start with the hammam to warm up properly. We found a marble room with a warm stone in the center, lit only by a dim starburst of fiber optics on the ceiling. Someone was already inside: through t
This happened last summer and I still get rock hard every single time I remember it. My wife Lisa and I have been married for nine years. Her best friend Kayla has been in our lives since college. Kayla is 33 and built like a fucking dream. She has thick juicy thighs, a big round ass that jiggles when she walks, heavy D cup tits, and long dark hair that smells like vanilla. Lisa is petite and sweet but our sex life had become almost nonexistent. Kayla on the other hand was always flirty and teasing. We rented our usual cabin for the long weekend. On the first night Lisa ate something bad and spent the whole day sick. By 9pm she took medicine and passed out hard in the master bedroom. She was snoring loudly. Kayla and I stayed up on the big couch in the living room, drinking wine with the lights dimmed. "You have been staring at my tits all night," Kayla said suddenly with a naughty smile. Her foot brushed my thigh and stayed there. "You think I dont notice how hard you get around m
Back in the day, I was in a poker league that was started with about 10-12 of our closest friends. I was single at the time, and every Saturday we would meet at a different person's house. We’d play poker, drink, smoke weed, and hang out, usually watching a hockey game or two or having a campfire outside, depending on whose house we were at. It would always be a blast; very rarely did I not have a terrible hangover the next morning. My best friend since elementary school, Derrick Johnston, and I were two of the better poker players in the league. His wife, Arianna, was in the league, and occasionally, Derrick would invite his younger sister to the game if we were short a couple of regulars. Her name was Heather, she was 3 years younger than us, and I had known her since elementary school. She was always the coolest, friendliest chick, and she and I always got along great. She had a warped sense of humour, very dark and sexual in nature, and she would always join in whenever the gro
I flew to St. Petersburg for a three-day logistics conference—the usual routine for a mid-level manager: presentations, coffee breaks, and the constant exchange of business cards. The hotel was decent, right in the center, overlooking the Neva. On the very first evening after the official part, I went down to the hotel bar—my feet were buzzing from my heels, just wanting to relax with a martini. He was already sitting behind the counter—Dmitry, one of our key clients. We'd been corresponding for months about work, but had only seen each other in person a couple of times at group meetings. Tall, confident, about forty-five, with an expensive suit and a wedding ring he wore all the time, even here. Next to him was a young woman, about twenty-five, in a formal but form-fitting dress. Alina, his assistant. I'd only known her by email: always crisp letters, perfect spreadsheets. In person, she was even more beautiful—long legs, a neat bust, shoulder-length blond hair, and those e
A while ago my wife and I bought one of those Mercedes sprinter van campers. It’s more like a small luxury apartment on wheels. We’ve never really been campers but we thought what the hell let’s give it a try. Turns out we like it a lot. And recently we’ve begun to like it even more. Occasionally, while we are sitting around our campfire in the evening other campers would stop by and we’d have a nice conversation with complete strangers. Every once in a while a couple would make some sexual advances which we would politely decline and just laugh it off. Then one day my wife confessed to me that she fantasizes about getting fucked by a complete stranger. This almost instantly made my dick hard and i told her that that really turned me on. Needless to say we got naked and fucked while she told me all about her fantasy of getting fucked by strangers. A few days later I suggested to my wife that the next time someone makes sexual advances towards us we just see where it goes. She was
My name is Alexander, and I was 19 years old when this happened. Anna, my older sister, was 24. We had always been close — closer than most siblings, I guess. Growing up, we shared everything: secrets, late-night talks, even the same bathroom when we were kids. But after I turned 18, something shifted. I started noticing her in ways I never should have. The way her tank tops clung to her full, perky C-cup breasts when she came out of the shower. The curve of her hips in those tiny sleep shorts. The soft sway of her ass when she walked around the house in just a T-shirt and panties. She had long, wavy chestnut hair that fell down her back, smooth olive skin, and these big hazel eyes that could make my stomach flip. Our parents had gone on a two-week anniversary trip to Europe, leaving the house to just the two of us. It was the middle of summer, hot as hell, and the AC in our old house barely worked. That Friday night, everything changed. I was in the living room watching some min
I knew this wouldn't end well. As soon as Lenka called and said her best friend had arrived and they were hanging out in the city until the morning, leaving her mother and I alone at the dacha, I immediately sensed something was wrong. But Victoria Mikhailovna, my mother-in-law, just chuckled into the phone: "Well, that's good, Sasha, I was so eager to go to the bathhouse after my long journey. Would you like to join me? I'm bored alone." I would have refused. Claim a headache, or the football game on TV. But she was already standing on the veranda threshold in her light robe, which was translucent even in the sunset. She had a figure, I must admit. For a forty-five-year-old woman, she was a real bombshell. Lenka, my wife, took after her father—slender, petite. But Victoria Mikhailovna was a force of nature. Tall, busty, with wide hips. Just like a Russian beauty from the epics, only modern and well-groomed. "What are you standing there for?" she said, wa