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

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

As you get older, you begin to truly appreciate the simplest things. For example, a solid, regular male erection. Now I think back to my youth—what a fool I was... How many guys I shaved. How many orgasms I missed... For some reason, I grumbled at my husband, who always needed something. And then... Then it turned out that I lived for several years without an erection. Fingers, vibrators, colorful dildos, even vegetables and fruits... What hasn't happened to me over the years... But it's all wrong. Nothing compares to the magic of a real, erect, and therefore valuable, male end. And yesterday I finally got that ending! I'm speaking in verse now because I'm happy. I've been working towards this for a very long time, and here it is! It's happened! To be honest, Petenka was drunk. I tried my best to make it happen at the office party. I shouted toasts, topped up his glass, offered him another drink. And when he was drunk enough, I offered to take him home in a t... 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

My husband and I have a good relationship, great sex, but... But for years now, I've dreamed of feeling like a slut, of being fucked like a total whore by a stranger. Or even several times... Alas, the prerequisites never materialized—first, the cushy love affair with my husband, then the birth of our daughter. And for a long time, I couldn't imagine a real situation where I could step outside the bounds of morality. However, I would start to cum around any even remotely attractive man, imagining how I'd take him in my mouth and then spread my legs for him. So my husband and I, leaving our daughter in the care of her grandmothers, went to a provincial town to settle some matters with the inheritance left after the death of a distant relative. We stayed in a hotel, considered the best, but with the kind of service and furnishings I imagined the Soviet era. However, this archaism was nothing compared to the ordeal of dealing with the inheritance. And so, on the second day,... 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

Hello everyone! My wife's name is Anya. We have been married for 4 years already: she is 25, I am 29. We always have a rich life, both in terms of life and sexuality. I love my wife very much and am very concerned about her comfort with me. At the beginning of our relationship, everything developed rapidly, and within a month of our relationship, I already proposed to my beloved. Well, to tell you the truth, I regretted not having done this on the very first day of our relationship. She's a real dream, both physically and mentally. A beautiful brunette with sultry eyes, beautiful breasts, always-aroused nipples, a thin waist, and slender legs. It was impossible not to want her just by looking at her. Sexually, I was simply crazy about her, and we had a ton of variety. We had sex at home, in the car, in cafes, and so on. She has an incredibly beautiful pussy and anal slit. I couldn't tear myself away from her for days and nights. Every time she jumped on my dick, I almost... 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

My mother-in-law recently moved in with us. Antonina Gennadyevna is 56 years old now. She spent her entire life as the head of our foundry. She definitely didn't look 56; you wouldn't put her past 40. She had a big, toned butt, matching breasts, a stern face, and her hair was always pulled back into a ponytail. So my mother-in-law moved in with us. And as the old joke goes, she has already eaten away at her son-in-law’s, that is, me, brain. - I'll give your mother a punch in the face soon if she doesn't stop! "Seryozha, please forgive me, just be patient a little longer! She'll buy herself a new apartment soon and move out." "Yes, yes, then she'll need repairs, and who's going to help? Her son-in-law is a klutz, of course." - Well, Seryozha... Dasha kissed her husband's neck, then climbed under the covers and placed her husband's rather large penis in her mouth. She began sucking him vigorously, bringing him to bliss. Powerful stre... continue reading

Mikhail, a 25-year-old guy, immediately got a job as a security guard at a large corporation as soon as he returned from the army. For the past year, he'd been working as a driver for the CEO of this corporation, and it so happened that while driving his boss, he sometimes entrusted him with driving his wife to the gym or the spa. So they began an affair, during those days when he'd take his boss's wife to the spa or the gym, supposedly. They'd either rent a hotel room, or Misha would drive out into the woods outside the city, where they'd have sex like rabid rabbits. Natasha gave Mikhail a blowjob in the back seat of an expensive Maybach. — I witnessed a conversation here, the chief accountant needed a driver and security guard all in one for some business trip, I recommended you. Natalia said, pulling away from the member. - Why? I'm not bad here either, when such a milf gives me pleasure. Natalia was 13 years older than Mikhail. She was madly in love with... 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

- Kolya, you idiot, let me through!!! I'll be late for work!!! Kolya was, to put it mildly, a bad neighbor, and if not mildly, a jerk! Constant drinking, partying, music, and shouting until the early hours. And this very creature lived below us. And the worst part is, he was constantly picking on me and picking on me! At first, he just made stupid jokes and offered dubious compliments. Even though I'm 41 and he's a 23-year-old bitch!!! But no, he never let me pass in peace, I have a feeling that he constantly smokes in the entryway, 24/7, the asshole!!! And now, the bitch knows my husband left 30 minutes ago. And I'll tell you right away, I didn't say anything to my husband; this Kolya is as healthy as a battered horse and just as smart! And you can't report him to the police, what am I supposed to say? He won't let me go down the stairs? We live on the fifth, top floor, and he lives on the fourth. And now he's standing between the floors and won'... continue reading

The scent of pine and steam hung in the air, mingling with the aroma of chilled beer. The sauna was dizzyingly hot. I sat on the bottom bunk, my back against the rough wooden wall, watching drops of water roll down my husband, Igor's, bare chest. His friends, Sergey and Anton, lounged nearby. We were all naked, covered only by small towels that had long since ceased to conceal anything. The idea of coming here, to this male citadel, had seemed daring and piquant at first. Now I realized it was a trap I'd fallen into. My friends' gazes, heavy and gliding like oil, lingered on my hips, my breasts, and between my legs. I tried to cover myself, but it was useless, and it seemed to only inflame them—and me—even more. "So, Lerka, isn't it too hot?" Sergei, the most brazen of them, asked hoarsely, his eyes fixed on my chest. I felt my nipples swell under his gaze, hardening treacherously. "It's okay, bearable," I managed to say, taking a sip of beer. T... 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

I stood in the middle of the room, feeling completely naked, even though I was wearing simple black shorts and a T-shirt. My stepmother's command rang in my ears: "Wait. And behave yourself." Svetlana, my stepmother, sat on the sofa like a queen on a throne. Her legs, tanned and well-groomed, were gracefully crossed. On her feet were open-toed sandals with sky-high heels, accentuating every curve. Her pedicure was perfect, a blood-red polish, like drops of fresh blood on marble. She sipped her martini, her eyes sliding over me coldly and appraisingly. The door opened, and she walked in. Svetlana's friend, Veronica. I'd seen her a couple of times—tall, with shoulder-length dark hair and a piercing, predatory gaze. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress, and on her feet were the same sky-high stilettos, black, with pointed toes. “Veronica, my dear, come in,” Svetlana said languidly, without moving from her place. Veronica looked me up and down, a slight, mockin... continue reading

Grandfather Ivan sat in his chair, staring at the television, where the news blared endlessly. His head was racing, his thoughts lazy and fragmented. Life after seventy seemed like a drawn-out, slightly faded film. His body ached, his bones creaked, and the only thing that remained to remind him of his former strength and passion was the occasional morning when he rose, a stubborn and mute witness to the past. There was a knock on the door. First timidly, then more insistently. Ivan sighed, rose with a creak, and trudged to open it. Katya, the neighbor upstairs, stood behind the door. A young, devilish woman, about twenty-five. She wore a simple housecoat that had fallen open, revealing a deep neckline. Ivan couldn't help but glance down at the firm curves protruding from beneath the thin fabric and felt a familiar throb in his groin. "Uncle Vanya, I'm sorry to bother you," her voice was clear, a little guilty. "The faucet in my bathroom is leaking again, it'... continue reading