Stories by this author
625 stories · Page 12Four 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
— 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.
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
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
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
- 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'
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
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
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
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'
The forest air was already cooling, smelling of pine needles, damp earth, and the smoke from the fire I'd long ago extinguished. I crawled into my sleeping bag, buried my nose in the cool nylon of the tent, and tried to read on my phone. Silence. Only the wind in the pine treetops and some distant, unfamiliar sounds. I felt like such a brave traveler, so independent. Alone in the forest. Independent, no fucking way. The first thing that alerted me was the creak of a branch. Not a natural sound, but a loud, cracking one. I froze and listened. My heart suddenly responded with a dull thump in my temples. "An elk," I immediately reassured myself, "or a boar. They don't attack first." Then I heard voices. Men's. Rough, slightly hoarse, interrupting each other. They were getting closer. And through the thin tent awning, I saw three dark figures, illuminated by the moon. They were walking straight toward me. "Oh God, no. No-no-no..." I pressed myself aga
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,
And again a night on the train. I can't stand it. It's stuffy, the wheels are rattling, the guy behind the wall is snoring like a tractor. I'm alone in my compartment, at least that's a plus. I'm sitting there, staring at my phone, I've already read all the news a hundred times. It's deadly boring. The compartment door opens. It's the conductor, Irina, by name, you can see it on the sign. She was checking my tickets when I was getting on, I liked her. Well, such a... mature woman. About forty, probably. But her figure is just the bomb, honestly. Such boobs that they just burst in her uniform, and the skirt fits tightly in all the right places. And a beautiful face, a little tired, but with some charm. “Would you like some tea?” he asks. Her voice is low, husky, very sexy. And I've already given up on the third can of energy drink so as not to fall asleep. “Come on,” I say. “Just make it stronger.” She pours from her thermos. She bends over, and I
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
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
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
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
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
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
The door to Maria Ivanovna's office slammed shut with a sound as if it were not a massive oak door, but the lid of a coffin. My coffin. The air in the room was cool, smelling of expensive perfume and power. Her power. I stood there, looking down at the plush carpet, feeling like a complete idiot. The report had been so blatantly flawed, and now I had to listen to what my boss thought about it. And she thought, as usual, without embellishment. Maria Ivanovna walked silently around her desk. Her sky-high Christian Louboutin heels clicked out a slow, commanding beat. Each click sent a volley of alarm through my body. She stopped right in front of me, and I smelled a wave of her aroma – bitter chocolate, black pepper, and something elusive and dangerous. "Explain this hack job to me," her voice was low, calm, and therefore even more chilling. "I spend my time, my nerves, on you. And what do I get in return?" She took another step. The tip of her shoe almost touched m