Stories by this author
625 stories · Page 13Like all anonymous storytellers, I will introduce myself to you by a false name, because my safety depends on it, which you will understand after reading my own story of sex-cheating with a loving but very jealous husband. My name is Svetlana, I am 32 years old and for this age I have a simply magnificent body, especially my butt and firm second-size breasts, which have been crazy about since university. To be honest, I married Sergey (my husband) for convenience, because before I got a high-paying job in the HR company, I really needed money and a loved one. We never had anything special with Sergey, and even our sex was quite banal due to his widespread religiosity - he did not want me in the ass, and I just pine for the anus. Because in addition to sexual hypocrisy, my husband is also not averse to getting physical in a fit of jealous anger, because in his understanding I flirt with each of his friends and the last time I kicked him out of the house, for a while. Of course, we co
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
One of the most enjoyable moments is always the brief moment before the first kiss. That moment when everything can go wrong. An inept guy, bad breath, rough lips. But if everything goes perfectly, the first kiss is unlikely to be forgotten. That time everything was exactly like that, but the first night was something out of the ordinary, namely turning into a slave, but it is better to start from the very beginning. My name is Vika. I am a simple girl from the suburbs and fortunately I managed to enter a capital university. My appearance is quite decent, not without flaws. But they can be attributed to the lack of physical exercise. There is nothing extremely unsuccessful. An ordinary, tall student 175 cm, with small breasts of the 2nd size, a slightly convex bottom and a slender, but not trained body. Not a blonde and not a brunette. This is something in between the two extremes. So now I am in my third year and recently I was lucky to meet a graduate of this university, whose nam
I always thought that being a secretary for a boss like Mr. Harris would be a chore—coffee, reports, calls. But damn, he was a real character: tall, with those broad shoulders that stretched his shirt, and eyes that sometimes slid over me like I was something tasty rather than just an employee. I was 28, he was in his late 30s, divorced, and there was talk around the office that he was no saint. And me? I was just trying to keep it together, but inside I sometimes fantasized about him pinning me to the desk. Silly, right? But that business trip changed everything. We flew to Chicago for a conference – he was speaking, I was assisting. The hotel was fancy, one room for two, but with separate rooms, like a suite. "We're saving the company's budget," he said with a grin when we checked in. It was a free evening, the conference started the next day. "Anna, let's go have dinner? We can't just sit in the room," he suggested, and I nodded, feeling something
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
Accidentally opening the door at the wrong time, for her, I saw a beautiful maid. Coal-black hair, brown eyes, and thick black eyebrows. She wasn't wearing sexy clothes or high heels. But something about her caught my eye, and I immediately became attached to this woman, asking her how she found working here. Not knowing what to answer, she introduced herself as Linda, and immediately offered her hand. Apparently, she was new, since she didn't know who I was. We got acquainted. I forbade all my subordinates to offer me their hand, and when someone did, I recognized the newcomer, repeating over and over that this was not allowed. But I didn't tell her this. I liked the soft skin of her small hand so much that, without letting go, I began to tell her how nice it was here, and that everyone without exception gave tips, so the salary increase for the month would be significant. The woman became embarrassed, looked away. She was almost silent, and I told her and told her. How
I always thought that being a secretary for a boss like Mr. Harris would be a chore—coffee, reports, calls. But damn, he was a real character: tall, with those broad shoulders that stretched his shirt, and eyes that sometimes slid over me like I was something tasty rather than just an employee. I was 28, he was in his late 30s, divorced, and there was talk around the office that he was no saint. And me? I was just trying to keep it together, but inside I sometimes fantasized about him pinning me to the desk. Silly, right? But that business trip changed everything. We flew to Chicago for a conference – he was speaking, I was assisting. The hotel was fancy, one room for two, but with separate rooms, like a suite. "We're saving the company's budget," he said with a grin when we checked in. It was a free evening, the conference started the next day. "Anna, let's go have dinner? We can't just sit in the room," he suggested, and I nodded, feeling something
First of all, I would like to introduce myself and tell you a few words about myself. My name is Ira, I am a rather diligent and cheerful girl of 18 years old. Quite an average student of one of the industrial technical schools in the vastness of our great and vast Motherland. Short brunette, quite slender, but not a fitness babe, with neat size 2 breasts. And so fate has it that about ten years ago I had a half-brother Andrey, a couple of years older than me. We never had particularly warm feelings for each other, but we tried not to spoil life unnecessarily. And to my great happiness, my parents sent us to different educational institutions, and besides, my brother was already finishing his studies and was going to leave for the capital to continue his studies in the correspondence department at the university. I was comparatively glad that I would have to see him even less in my hometown. But as it soon became clear, I was wrong not to be interested in my brother and tried to ign
One of the most enjoyable moments is always the brief moment before the first kiss. That moment when everything can go wrong. An inept guy, bad breath, rough lips. But if everything goes perfectly, the first kiss is unlikely to be forgotten. That time everything was exactly like that, but the first night was something out of the ordinary, namely turning into a slave, but it is better to start from the very beginning. My name is Vika. I am a simple girl from the suburbs and fortunately I managed to enter a capital university. My appearance is quite decent, not without flaws. But they can be attributed to the lack of physical exercise. There is nothing extremely unsuccessful. An ordinary, tall student 175 cm, with small breasts of the 2nd size, a slightly convex bottom and a slender, but not trained body. Not a blonde and not a brunette. This is something in between the two extremes. So now I am in my third year and recently I was lucky to meet a graduate of this university, whose nam
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
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
Like all anonymous storytellers, I will introduce myself to you by a false name, because my safety depends on it, which you will understand after reading my own story of sex-cheating with a loving but very jealous husband. My name is Svetlana, I am 32 years old and for this age I have a simply magnificent body, especially my butt and firm second-size breasts, which have been crazy about since university. To be honest, I married Sergey (my husband) for convenience, because before I got a high-paying job in the HR company, I really needed money and a loved one. We never had anything special with Sergey, and even our sex was quite banal due to his widespread religiosity - he did not want me in the ass, and I just pine for the anus. Because in addition to sexual hypocrisy, my husband is also not averse to getting physical in a fit of jealous anger, because in his understanding I flirt with each of his friends and the last time I kicked him out of the house, for a while. Of course, we co
Like all anonymous storytellers, I will introduce myself to you by a false name, because my safety depends on it, which you will understand after reading my own story of sex-cheating with a loving but very jealous husband. My name is Svetlana, I am 32 years old and for this age I have a simply magnificent body, especially my butt and firm second-size breasts, which have been crazy about since university. To be honest, I married Sergey (my husband) for convenience, because before I got a high-paying job in the HR company, I really needed money and a loved one. We never had anything special with Sergey, and even our sex was quite banal due to his widespread religiosity - he did not want me in the ass, and I just pine for the anus. Because in addition to sexual hypocrisy, my husband is also not averse to getting physical in a fit of jealous anger, because in his understanding I flirt with each of his friends and the last time I kicked him out of the house, for a while. Of course, we co
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
I work as a loader at one of the factories. The work is not dusty, every day I just move boxes on a special machine, stack them in rows and sort them. I return home late in the evening, I am constantly in the fresh air, and they pay me so much that I alone have enough to live on. I do not complain, I just want water and bread, and let others try, eat and dress everything else. So one evening, in winter, in 30-degree frost, I was walking home all bundled up to my ears, trudging through high snowdrifts, pressing on my head so that my ears fell off, I forgot my ushanka hat at home, and suddenly, out of nowhere, a girl of about 26 years old jumped out. It was obvious that she was very cold, her tattered autumn sheepskin coat was covered with frost, her hands were blue. I took off my down jacket and led the girl home. Not even out of compassion, but because I hadn't had a woman for over a year. It made itself felt. When I looked at her legs, to which her jeans were stuck from the col
First of all, I would like to introduce myself and tell you a few words about myself. My name is Ira, I am a rather diligent and cheerful girl of 18 years old. Quite an average student of one of the industrial technical schools in the vastness of our great and vast Motherland. Short brunette, quite slender, but not a fitness babe, with neat size 2 breasts. And so fate has it that about ten years ago I had a half-brother Andrey, a couple of years older than me. We never had particularly warm feelings for each other, but we tried not to spoil life unnecessarily. And to my great happiness, my parents sent us to different educational institutions, and besides, my brother was already finishing his studies and was going to leave for the capital to continue his studies in the correspondence department at the university. I was comparatively glad that I would have to see him even less in my hometown. But as it soon became clear, I was wrong not to be interested in my brother and tried to ign
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
Accidentally opening the door at the wrong time, for her, I saw a beautiful maid. Coal-black hair, brown eyes, and thick black eyebrows. She wasn't wearing sexy clothes or high heels. But something about her caught my eye, and I immediately became attached to this woman, asking her how she found working here. Not knowing what to answer, she introduced herself as Linda, and immediately offered her hand. Apparently, she was new, since she didn't know who I was. We got acquainted. I forbade all my subordinates to offer me their hand, and when someone did, I recognized the newcomer, repeating over and over that this was not allowed. But I didn't tell her this. I liked the soft skin of her small hand so much that, without letting go, I began to tell her how nice it was here, and that everyone without exception gave tips, so the salary increase for the month would be significant. The woman became embarrassed, looked away. She was almost silent, and I told her and told her. How
Eh, if I had known that it would all end like this, I would never have agreed to Andrey's offer to go to his house, try the new whiskey and cola, and cook him dinner. His wife had long since gone on vacation, and for more than two weeks now the man had been alone at home, sitting on the Internet until midnight. - Hi, Ksyusha, what are you doing there, aren’t you bored? - Hi, Andryusha, everything is fine. I just started cleaning, and then there will be laundry. And how are you? How are you relaxing, or have you started bringing girls to entertain you? Admit it. - Don't tease me. It's true, I feel sick, but I'm holding on. Maybe you could come over? I've been sitting without anything hot for over a week now. I don't know how to make soup, and my friends don't want to come over, I have things to do. - No problem, I'll finish right now and come. Open the wine. - I have whiskey, with cola, it's better. Come on, I'm waiting for you! After a quick s
This story happened to me many years ago. It was the year two thousand. My mother and I worked in the same organization. She had one friend there. At that time, she was closer to fifty, but despite the numbers, she was very slender, about seventy-five meters tall, weighing, I think, up to fifty-five kg, and had size four breasts. In short, as they say, she was in good condition and this person’s name was Irina. At that time, her husband, with whom she had lived for quite a long time, abandoned her and she was in a trance. But time took its toll and she slowly came to her senses. Sometimes my mother and I started talking about Irina, naturally not on my initiative, and I learned small but interesting details about her life. She was born in another city, got married in order to move to Moscow and get a residence permit. And as it turned out, Madame was always rather weak in the front. And she had a daughter, Olga, a couple of years younger than me. I didn’t know her, but only saw he