So, I got this wedding invite from a hotty I know who, let's say, "consults" with clients in a very… personal way. Yes, we used to lick each other's kitty's until they drooled in case you were wondering. Turns out, she's tying the knot with one of her regulars. Hey, who am I to judge? I spent over two decades charming clients before hanging up my hat in 2021, and I've got nothing but warm and sweaty...I mean fuzzy memories of those days. Anyway, I tossed the invite on the "I'll get to it" pile and forgot about it. To me, it sounded like a crappy reality show about to happen. So, she politely messaged me today and asked if I would respond, and I did. Apparently, responding, "Sorry, maybe next time," is a good way to uninvite yourself. Who knew? I didn't think she would get that mad. I was wrong.
Someone asked me why, at 58, I like getting fingered by a guy who is 32. I don't know...I just like getting fingered by a guy who is 32. He made my pussy so wet you could probably drown in it. It was a chick who asked me that, trying to be snarky. I'm guessing she hasn't had her snatch fingered since high school and probably didn't like it then. I remember my first time...I was so into it I scared the guy doing it. Anyway, her loss, as I suspect she doesn't know what she's missing. Anyway, I suppose if I don't want snarky answers, I should quit sharing my sexual adventures with people I don't really know. Never going to happen, though. I like sharing too much.
I was watching that show, FBI, and that chick is hot. What a body...I could go gay for her. Anyway, she's arresting some guy, and when she says, "Anything you say can and will be held against you." I would reply, "Boobs." Or "Snatch," depending on my mood. She can hold either of those against me, and I won't complain.
Yesterday was one of those days that will be on my mind forever. My clit definitely won't forget it. I spent it with Shane at the beach, and I have to say it was beyond hot, and not temperature-wise. My husband, Scott, wanted to spend the day with me, but when Shane called, it was like my body decided before my brain could catch up. Saying no to Shane isn't in my DNA, not like it is with Scott, who I can brush off without a second thought. The thrill of choosing Shane, knowing my husbands at home while I'm out pursuing a relationship with a man half my age, not to mention who is now my husband's boss, is a rush I can't get enough of.
I showed up at the beach in a bikini that didn't cover much. My tits were spilling out, barely contained, and the bottom was so skimpy my clit and lips kept slipping free, easy to see for everyone around who looked...and they did look. Shane smiled when he saw me. He definitely approved. I'm sure I saw a bulge growing in his shorts. We met up with his friends, who weren't shy about staring at me either. The looks were intense...but I liked it, and Shane was into it as much as I was. He certainly seemed to enjoy showing me off like I was his cum dump trophy. It was quite the thrill knowing I was the center of their attention, which, in turn, made me want Shane's cock inside me so bad I could barely stand it.
We went into the ocean, just deep enough for some privacy under the waves. I couldn't resist the urge, so I reached into his shorts and pulled out his perfect cock, stroking the head with my fingers, feeling it get hard in my hand. The saltwater made things a little sticky, but the thrill of it was amazing. Shane didn't hold back either; his fingers found my clit, working it with that expert touch that drives me wild. I tried to guide his cock inside me, wanting to feel him stretch me open, but the ocean wasn't cooperating—too awkward, too sticky. Still, the effort alone had me dripping.
We walked back to his group of friends, and I parked myself on Shane's lap, kissing and touching each other, letting everyone see how much we were into each other. I loved the way his hands were all over my body as his friends watched, wondering if they wanted to Shane at that very moment. I got even wetter thinking Scott's nowhere near this excitement level, never really has been, and the thought of him sitting at home alone while I'm at the beach, loving that I belong to Shane now. Fuck, just saying that makes me wet.
Things slowed down, and Shane led me behind his Jeep. I knew exactly what he wanted, and I wanted it more. I dropped to my knees, pulled his cock out, and took it deep into my throat, worshiping every inch with my mouth. I worked him hard, loving being on my knees in front of him, serving him and his cock, all while feeling the way his cock twitched on my tongue. I wanted him to unload, to feed me a thick, heavy load of his sperm, but just as things were heating up, a car pulled up nearby. We had to stop, and I almost screamed from frustration.
Later, Shane took me to his place. We showered, and I couldn't keep my hands off him. I dropped to my knees again, sucking his cock with even more hunger, loving how it filled my mouth. Then we moved to the bedroom, and Shane laid me on my back, spreading my legs wide. His tongue found my clit, licking and sucking with that magic touch my husband has never matched. My clit got hard as a rock, became super fat and sensitive, and he worked me until I came so hard I saw stars. My body actually went numb from the intensity of it.
I wasn't done with him yet. I took his cock back in my mouth, feeling it jerk and harden, close to pumping cum. But Shane had other plans. He pulled out and told me to ride him. It's like he knew exactly what I wanted, which was me making his cock disappear in my guts. I climbed on top, rubbing the head of his cock against my huge, post cum swelled clit, working myself into a sloppy, wet frenzy. When I couldn't take it anymore, I impaled myself on him, taking him balls deep, really into the way his dick fills me. It only took a few bounces on his dick, and I came again, harder this time, so hard I lost control of my body. I rarely squirt, but this time, with Shane, I soaked him, my orgasm turning me into a mindless, cum-hungry mess. All I could think about was feeling him pump me with his cum, and he did, his dick cumming so hard I felt his sperm spraying inside me and leaking out around his cock. It was perfect, the kind of fuck that leaves you breathless and braindead.
After, we went to the grocery store, hand in hand, Shane kissing the back of my neck, his hand on my shoulder like we were the perfect couple. I made him dinner, a meal I should've made for Scott, but doing it for Shane felt right, making me feel like I belonged to Shane now. The thought of Scott at home, oblivious to how into Shane I am, only made it sweeter. The day was perfect. My clit is still buzzing from it, and I know I'll be chasing this high for a long time. I have to catch you later. I need to get Scott to clean Shanes cum off the seat of my Jeep. It leaked out on the way home.
My phone buzzed yesterday afternoon, and Jake's name lit up the screen, his text to the point: Wanna come over? I smirked, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I could've said yes right then, but where's the fun in that? Instead, I typed back, Waiting to hear from Shane. If that falls through, I'll let you know. A little white lie. Shane wasn't even in the picture, but I wasn't about to let Jake think he was my first choice. Gotta keep him on his toes.
Ok, let me know, he replied, and I could almost hear the disappointment in his voice. Jake's not the type to beg, but I know he wants me. Bad. Truth is, I've been thinking about Jake a lot lately, missing the feeling of his awesome cock inside me, the way he stretches my pussy out, and the way his cock reaches places that other cocks don't. So, I broke down and went to see Jake.
When I knocked on Jake's door, he opened it wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts slung low on his hips. No shirt, just that lean, tanned chest and the faint trail of hair dipping below his waistband. He grinned, that half-smile that says he knows exactly what I'm here for.
"Thought you were gonna ditch me for Shane," he said, stepping aside to let me in.
I shrugged and said Shane had family obligations to attend.
He didn't waste time. His hand found my waist, pulling me close, and I could feel the heat of his cock through my clothes. "Good," he murmured, lips brushing my ear. "Cause I've been thinking about you all day."
We didn't make it to the bedroom. He backed me against the living room wall, his mouth on mine, making out like there was no tomorrow. I could feel him hardening through his shorts, his cock pressing against my thigh, thick and rock hard. Jake's cock is like no one else, long, veined, with a slight curve that hits every spot just right. It's the kind of dick that makes me forget my name when it's inside me. I reached down, slipping my hand past his waistband, and wrapped my fingers around it. He groaned, as I stroked him, feeling the heavy weight of it, the way it pulsed in my hand.
"Fuck," he breathed, his dick twitching in my hand. "You're gonna kill me."
I grinned, tightening my grip, teasing the head with my thumb until a drop of precum leaked out on my fingers. "Maybe I want to."
He didn't let me play for long. He yanked my shorts down, spinning me around so my hands were leaning against the wall. His fingers rubbed my hard, swollen clit , spreading me open, and then I felt the warm, hard tip of his cock rubbing against my swollen clit and my wet pussy lips, teasing me. He took his time, though, practically making me beg for his cock.
"Tell me you want it," he whispered in my ear.
I bit my lip, stubborn. "You know I do."
"Say it." His hand gripped my hip, holding me still as he pressed just the tip inside, enough to make me want to scream.
"Fuck, Jake, I want it. Now."
That was all he needed. He thrust in, slow at first, letting me feel every thick inch of his cock stretching my pussy open. The way he fills me up, that curve hitting deep, reaching places other cocks never could, making my knees weak. He didn't hold back after that, pounding me hard and fast, his hands gripping my hips like he was claiming me. The sound of his balls slapping against my skin and the feel of my pussy juices running down his cock, pushing me closer to the edge.
"God, you feel so good," he groaned. I miss this. "I did, too, but I didn't want him to know.
When I came, it hit me like nothing else, my whole body shaking and my knees weak, he didn't stop, fucking me through it until he followed, his dick pounding me fast and hard , his cock twitching and pulsing, I could feel every drop of his jizz filling me up.
We stayed like that for a moment, catching our breath . Then he pulled out, slow, and I turned to face him, both of us grinning like we'd just gotten away with something.
"Better than Shane?" he asked, that smirk back .
I laughed and said, "The sex is always amazing with you, but don't flatter yourself, you're still number two."
I didn't want him to know how amazing it felt and just how much I missed his cock and, yes, him too. What's the fun in that? I have him right where I want him. And it's an incredible feeling!
The Jeep’s tires crunched into the gravel lot of Shane’s auto shop, my body still buzzing from Adam, the mailman, and our encounter. My pussy was soaked, throbbing with a need no toy could satisfy. I needed a real cock, and Shane, rough, confident, and always up for a good time, was the man for the job. I glanced in the rearview mirror, my lips glossy, my miniskirt barely covering my thighs, and my tight top clinging to my tits, no bra to hide my hard nipples. I looked like trouble, and I felt like it, too.
I hopped out, and strutted into the garage, heels clicking. The shop smelled of oil and metal, but Shane wasn’t at his usual spot. Instead, I spotted my husband Scott hunched over a toolbox, sorting wrenches. He barely looked up as I approached, my hips swaying.
“Hey, babe,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “Where’s Shane?”
Scott glanced at me, his eyes taking in my sexy outfit, and shook his head. “In his new office,” he grunted, nodding toward the back of the shop. “Just got it set up."
I didn’t stick around to chat. “Thanks,” I tossed over my shoulder, already walking toward the office, my pulse racing. The door was half-open, and there was Shane, leaning back in a creaky chair, phone to his ear, giving an order for parts. His t-shirt hugged his broad chest, jeans low on his hips, and that familiar cocky grin on his face.
I didn’t wait for an invitation. I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. Shane’s eyes snapped to me, widening as he took in my skirt, my tits straining against my tight top. I walked straight to him, leaning down, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, “I need your dick inside me now.”
His breath caught, and he fumbled the phone, muttering a quick, “Yeah, send it tomorrow, gotta go,” before hanging up the phone, he said, “Brooke, what's _” he started, but I was already moving, yanking my top down to let my tits spill free, my nipples hard and begging for attention.
I didn’t give him time to think. I bent over his desk, shoving a stack of papers aside, and hiked my skirt up to my waist, exposing my soaking wet pussy. “Fuck me, Shane,” I said, glancing back at him, my voice low and needy. “Now.”
His chair scraped as he stood, his eyes locked on my ass and my dripping wet pussy. “Holy shit,” he muttered, already undoing his belt, the clink of him undoing his belt sent a shiver through me. He had no clue why I was this worked up, no idea it was because of Adam, our conversation, that had left me dripping and desperate. Let him think it was all him. I liked it that way.
Shane didn’t hesitate. He stepped behind me, his hands gripping my hips. “You’re fucking soaked,” he growled, the head of his cock brushing my opening, teasing me for a split second before he thrust in, hard and deep. I moaned loud, my pussy clenching around him as he filled me, thick and hot, exactly what I’d been craving.
“Goddamn, Brooke,” he grunted, setting a brutal pace, his hips slamming into me, the desk creaking under my weight. My tits bounced against the wood, my nipples grazing the surface with every thrust, sending shock waves through my body. He was not gentle, just raw need, and it was perfect, exactly what I needed to simmer down the fire Adam had lit.
“Harder,” I gasped, pushing back against him, my pussy contracting tight as the pleasure built. Shane’s hand slid up, grabbing my tits and rubbing my nipples, my moans louder, needier. He fucked me like he owned me, which he does at this point.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic. I was already there, the tension snapping as my orgasm crashed over me, my pussy pulsing around his cock, my legs trembling as I called out, “Shane!” Wave after wave hit me, my body shaking, satisfied at last.
He wasn’t far behind. With a low curse, he shot his warm, silky load inside me, spraying down the inside of my pussy walls, his hot jizz dripping out of me as he pulled out, leaving a puddle on his office floor. I stayed bent over for a moment, catching my breath, a smile on my lips as the aftershocks faded.
Shane grabbed a shop rag, wiped me clean, and then wiped up the puddle on the floor. “Jesus, Brooke,” he said, "that was amazing and a great afternoon break."
I straightened, tugging my skirt down and pulling my top back into place, my tits and pussy still tingling. “Just what I needed,” I said with a shrug, letting him believe he was the spark. No need to mention Adam. This was my secret, and I’d keep it that way.
“Anytime,” Shane said, his grin cocky again, like he’d just won a prize. I shot him a wink, sauntering out of the office, my body completely satisfied. As I passed Scott, still sorting tools, I called out, “See ya at home, babe,” and headed for my Jeep, already thinking about the next time I see Shane.
I'm so turned on thinking about the mailman and " The No dick" from him but went to see Shane after the Mailman tease yesterday and I got a quickie from him. It was enough to hold me over until this evening when I can spend some quality time with Shane. I am definitely looking forward to that .
The sun beat down on my bare shoulders, the heat making my skin shiny as I leaned against the mailbox. My red tank top was cropped just below my tits, my Daisy Dukes hugged my hips, barely covering my pubes and I knew every curve was on display. I wasn’t here to play nice. My postman, Adam, had ghosted me the night before, promising a late-night visit that never happened. I wasn’t about to let him off the hook.
I saw his white mail truck round the corner, the engine humming as it slowed. Adam's eyes locked on me through the windshield, and a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face. He shook his head, like he knew he was in trouble but couldn’t help enjoying the view. I smirked, pushing off the mailbox and sauntering toward the truck as he pulled up.
“Damn, Brooke,” he said, leaning out the window, his voice low and rough. “You don’t make this easy, do you?”
I crossed my arms under my chest, pushing my boobs up. “You stood me up, Adam. I don’t like being left waiting. Care to explain?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his wedding band shining in the sunlight. “I was on my way last night, I swear. Got halfway to your place before I started thinking about my wife. I couldn’t do it. I can’t cheat on her, no matter how bad I want to.”
I stepped closer, close enough that my bare thigh brushing the edge of his open door. His eyes darted to my legs, lingering on the hem of my shorts. “Want to, huh?” I said in a sexy low voice, “Sounds like you’re fighting a losing battle.”
He groaned, shifting in his seat, and I could see the bulge forming in his pants. “You’re trouble,” he muttered, but I could see his eyes looking at my boobs and my low cut shorts. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
I said leaning in closer to him, “Oh, I know. And I know you’re thinking about leaning me against this mailbox right now, married or not.” I stepped back just enough to look him in the eyes, licking my lips. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
His jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought he might break. His hand tightened on the steering wheel, like he was imagining grabbing me. But then he shook his head, forcing a laugh. “You’re gonna kill me, Brooke. I’m trying to be good here.”
“Good’s overrated,” I said, stretching my arms in the air so my shirt rises above my boobs to give him a peek of my nips to tease him. “You think your wife’s gonna care if you give me a quick fuck? I won’t tell, if you won't”
“Jesus,” he breathed, his voice strained. “You’re making this so fucking hard.”
“That’s the idea,” I shot back, glancing at the bulge in his pants. I wanted to climb into that truck and straddle him right there, feel him throb under me. But I knew I had to play this slow, he was teetering, but not broken yet.
He swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel like it was hanging on for dear life. “I gotta finish my route,” he said, but he didn’t move, didn’t look away. “You’re gonna get me fired, or worse.”
I stepped back, and winked at him and said, “Fine, go finish your job and go home to your wife, But I’m not done with you yet. Next time you pull up, I might not be so patient.” I turned, swaying my hips as I walked away knowing his eyes were glued to my ass. “And Adam,” I called over my shoulder. “I don’t care about your morals. I just want to feel your dick in me."
He let out a laugh, shaking his head as he put the truck in gear. “You’re fucking relentless,” he said, but he had this look in his eyes and I know this isn't over.
As he drove off, I leaned against the mailbox, my clit buzzing with the thrill of the chase. Adam could play the good husband all he wanted, but I’d seen the way he looked at me, the way his body reacted to me. This was a game, and I was just getting started.
I'm all worked up and turned on thinking about the little run in that I had with the mailman yesterday so I just had to rub one out and make all of you watch me 😜 I hope you enjoy as much as I did 🍆💦😜 Catch you all later 💋
Half an hour ago, I was at my kitchen table, laptop open with blueprints for my new edition, and dressed as if I had just walked out of an OnlyFans shoot. Why? Because I was snapping pics earlier, and I didn't feel like swapping into shorts. It's my house, my rules, and the outfit had me feeling like I could sell these blueprints to NASA if they were so inclined to build a home addition instead of a rocket ship. It's somewhat common knowledge that my windows are a reality porn show set—delivery folks, neighbors, random cats, they all get a peek. Normally, I'll run to my room to change if someone knocks. But today, I was in a mood. The Doorbell rang, and instead of sprinting to the bedroom, I went straight to the door.
Who other than the US Post Office is on the other side...aka the mailman. He's younger and mildly cute but avoids me like I'm serving subpoenas. If I wave, he dodges it. Say hello, and he stares at the pavement. No chance for any of that nonsense today. I open the door. He has a package in hand, and his face goes red. He's staring at the sky, the ground, anywhere but me, but he needs my signature. He left me no choice, so I asked him, "What, not a fan of the view"? He said something about "professionalism." That made me laugh, and I told him staring is acceptable and preferred. Then I offer him a bottle of water...It's just good manners on a hot day like today.
He says no and starts backing away, but I'm already all in, so nothing I say or do is out of bounds now. So I say", "If you like what you see, come by after work, and I’ll show you more." I was sure he would run for it, I fucked with his head enough for one day, but he said, "Maybe I will." and then he promptly ran off. Here's the million-dollar question. Do you think he will show back up? Or will he continue to dodge me like he's done for several years? I don't think he has the balls to get it done. Would I fuck him? I'd suck the sperm out his balls so hard his sack would deflate and disappear....just to say I fucked the mailman. Just saying.
Did you ever want someone so bad you would just say fuck it and do anything it took to make them yours? My answer is yes. So much so that I have a massive clit right now. I know why. It's because of what I crave, and right now, it's this guy and his dick from LA who's got my mind spinning out of control. He sent me nudes that hit not just my clit but my mind like a lightning bolt. His body is carved perfection, and his dick is a throbbing masterpiece that makes my thighs wet just thinking about it.
I've got Shane, an amazing boyfriend, Jake is still in the picture, and my husband, Scott, who I love in a complicated way. But I know that this guy is the one. The one who could change everything. If this man rolled into Daytona, they'd all slowly fade away. I can see it. I'd sit Scott down and say, "You're done. Stay and follow my rules, or hit the road—I'm good either way." This man's dick would be my everything, Scott would be forever friend zoned and pussy free. Shane and I hope he's good with reading this, would take a backseat, and so would Jake, if this guy even let them near me. He's very sexually open, but I don't know that he would. The thing is, I've had him inside of me before, and I know what his cock can do. I picture it now, slamming into me, stretching me wide, churning my insides until I'm a gooey mess. I keep thinking about when he cums, and I know it will be a heavy flood of sperm, still steaming hot straight from his balls, pooling in my guts, covering my insides like paint. His orgasm would be my orgasm. That's how much I'm into this guy. I want to have feelings so deep that he's all I see. I want his cock to rewrite my future until Scott's just a guy I think about now and then. I dream of going out with him, his cum still dripping inside my pussy, while everyone stares at us. They wouldn't be able to help it because he's drop-dead gorgeous, and I want the world to know we're the couple. I have this deep craving for people to see him kissing my neck in public, his hands on my tits through my shirt, telling me he loves me for all to hear, and me responding proudly likewise. It's not just his dick, as much as it may sound. It's the way he makes me feel like I'm the only fucking thing that matters. It's got my clit throbbing and my mind begging for him.
So, I'm asking you. Have you ever felt this kind of heat with someone? This kind of obsession that won't let go? Have you ever wanted someone so bad that it drowned out everyone else, even someone you love? I'm not talking about a fling; I'm talking about a craving so deep it's undeniable. It's that way for me. It would become a reality if we were living in the same town. I couldn't even think of saying no to him. The entire scenario, it would be a dream cum true. This man, his cock, his love, and the way it makes Scott shrink to nothing. Combine it all, and it's a rush I can't quit, and I don't want to.
So, let me know. Ever known someone or wanted to know someone so bad you would just blow it all up to have it? Maybe it's just me... perhaps it's my pussy talking, but I would. I think it's just part of being human, so why deny it? For some reason, I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this. It's all good. It makes me feel alive in the best of ways, and if that's all it ever pans out to be, it was still worth thinking about what could have been!
Funny, it's been almost a day, and it's like I can still feel Shane's dick in my ass. I went with Shane to this Irish pub to meet with three other couples. I knew them, but not super well, but I find that being on Shane's arm, letting everyone see he owns me, is a high I can't explain. Even better is telling my husband Scott, casually like it's no big deal, that I was going out with Shane, his newly appointed boss at the shop. The look on Scott's face it's a mix of defeat and powerlessness. It should make me feel sorry for putting him through this, but it drives me harder to take things further. Every time Shane beats him at work, with me, it's this sexual thrill that lights me up. Add to it, Shane gets off on Scott's humiliation, rubbing it in that he's lost me to a man half his age who now forbids him from seeing me naked. I love Shane's cocky power rule. It makes my pussy drip.
I went to Shane's place and we left directly to the pub. Shane and I were all over each other. Making out, handsy as fuck, his hands on my ass, him fondling my tits right there in front of everyone. I didn't care who saw it. I wanted them to know I'm Shane's. I was dying to drop to my knees and suck his cock right there, but made me wait. That tease just made me wetter. I did sit down with the other women for a bit, and they had questions. One asked about my porn career, and I was straight with her. I told her it was the best decision I ever made. My only regret is not starting in my 20s instead of my late 30s. Another girl asked if I could help her get into it. I told her I'd do what I could, but the game's changed, now it's all about OnlyFans and DIY hustle. Sad but true.
Then, they asked about what they wanted to know. They wondered how it felt to be there, making out with Shane, grabbing his dick, knowing everyone knew I was married to Scott but taking Shane's cock every chance I got. They wanted to see if I felt bad for Scott. If it was awkward being around people who knew I was married to Scott. I tried to explain, but I fumbled with it. It's hard to put into words. So, I went with the truth: I am addicted to humiliating Scott. It's not just that Shane's better, which he is. It's that I get off on letting Scott know he's lost me to him. Every time Shane fucks me, I can't wait to rub it in Scott's face, it's like I'm twisting the knife, and that power makes my pussy drip. I didn't say it, but I loved that everyone at that pub knew I was Shane's cum-slut, that Scott's wife was owned by his boss. There is zero guilt. I want Scott to feel small, to know he's nothing compared to Shane, and I want the world to see it. It's this massive sexual rush that keeps getting stronger. After I explained that as well as I could, I could see the shock, but with the one wife, I could see the gears turning in her head, and she caught me as we were leaving and asked if she could text me. I said sure and gave her my number. Haven't heard from her yet.
When we got back to Shane's place, it was on. He didn't waste time. He ripped my clothes off, bent me over, and upped the game. Shane fingered my asshole, slow and deep. Then he slipped the head of his fat cock right in. He didn't ask, he just fucking did it, and that power move made me his even more. Ass sex isn't always my thing. I have to be in the mood. But something about knowing it was Shane's thick cock head stretching my ass, pushing in slow, moving my guts around inside me, it flipped a switch. At first, it was tight, uncomfortable, like my ass was fighting it. But knowing it was Shane's dick in my guts...that made me crave it. I didn't just want it, I needed it deeper, needed to please him, to offer him my ass like a gift. Every inch he pushed in, stretching me wider, rearranging me, made me want him in ways I didn't know existed. His dick in my ass made me his, completely, and that feeling alone had my pussy dripping.
When Shane got balls deep, I lost it. I came so hard I couldn't tell what was real anymore. Reality disappeared, and all I knew was that his cock was filling me. I can't explain it fully, I was in a haze. Then he started really fucking my ass, and I was gone. No idea where I was or who I was. I just needed to feel his balls slap my ass with every stroke and experience that sensation as the head of his cock hit places inside me that don't get touched often. It was intense, like he was repositioning my insides via my asshole with his dick.
When Shane finally unloaded his cum deep in my guts, I had another orgasm, but this one was different. It wasn't sharp or intense—it was long and dull, like a slow, heavy wave that kept rolling through me. Strange, almost eerie, but so good I'm already obsessed with chasing it again. I can't stop thinking about it. Anyway, I'm off course here. In the end, pun intended, his slimy ball snot filled me, and I swear it felt like it was settling in like his jizz was exactly where it needed to be. It's kind of weird, but I have a strong need for his cum. Thinking that his cum is a living piece of him straight from his balls, and now it's inside of me, and a part of me drives me insane. What I do know is that I need more of those long, weird orgasms. I need to figure out how his dick triggered that. Guess I'll have to get right on that!
I'm laying it all out, my truth, the raw, messy story of how Shane's become my everything, my fucking king, and how his dick's the center of my universe. It's a lot—Shane's replaced my husband Scott and my other boyfriend Jake like they were just warm-up acts. People don't get it, but for me, it's crystal clear: getting Shane's rock-hard cock deep inside me is my life's mission. That's the goal, the dream, the whole damn point.
Here's the deal. Shane's not just my man,he's Scott's boss now at the shop. Yeah, the guy half Scott's age is calling the shots, and he's not subtle about it. The other day, Shane pulled Scott aside and told him, that he's not allowed to see me naked anymore. His own wife, and Shane, this younger, cocky stud, says, " She's mine now." That shit's a turn-on of epic proportions. Knowing Shane's claiming me so hard he's telling my husband he's cut off from my body. It makes my pussy throb and it's wet constantly. I feel completely owned by Shane, like I'm his property, and I love that feeling. It's so fucking hot.
I got a pussy load of hot testicle snot after I told Shane about how I fucked Jake again. It wasn't the sex that made Shane's dick hard, it was that I told Jake he's number two now, demoted, pushed to the sidelines. I did actually tell Jake that Shane's the king, the one who owns me. When I spilled that to Shane, his face lit up like he'd won the lottery, and his dick got hard as a rock. He loves being the top dog, taking what used to be Jake's and Scott's and making it his. My guess is he likes knowing they're powerless. That power trip gets him off, and as you already know, that kind of mindset makes my pussy drool like a faucet. It's more than sex—it's like he's a man after my own perverted sexual goals.
When I told Shane how I cucked Jake, knocked him down to half the man he thought he was, it was like flipping a switch. He didn't say much, just whipped out that gorgeous, throbbing cock and told me to suck it. I went all in, slobbering, tasting him, feeling him twitch in my mouth. Then he pulled out, yanked my shorts down, bent me over, and used that rock-hard dick to rearrange my insides. No warning, just pure domination. He pounded me so hard I was seeing stars, my pussy gripping him like it was begging his dick to stay inside of me. Then, without asking, he unloaded a hot, slimy load of cum deep in my guts. Didn't check if breeding me was good by me—he didn't need to. I love that he doesn't ask, he just does what his dick wants. It was fucking perfect. I came so hard before he nutted that I was cum-retarded, brain-dead, nothing but a cum dump for his dick. He could've done anything, and I'd have begged for more.
Feeling Shane's sperm swimming inside me all night? That's my kind of addiction. It's like he's still claiming me, even when he's gone. It's not just physical, it's such a mental turn on as well.
Shane asked me to hang with some of his buddies and their wives, but I passed. Some of them are still salty about this "porn is gross" argument we had, and I wasn't in the mood for their drama. I don't need that stress. But tonight, we're going out with some different friends, and I'm stoked. I'm also counting down the seconds till Shane fucks me into oblivion again. I'm already imagining him pumping me full till I'm a brain-dead cum sponge, his hot load dripping inside me, making me feel like I'm all his. Just thinking about it's got me wet, like I can feel his cum in me now.
That's my story. Shane's my king, and I'm his. He's got the balls to tell my husband he's done seeing me naked, and that kind of power makes me want him even more. Every thrust, every load, every time he claims me, it's what I live for. And I wouldn't change a damn thing.
Yes, for those of you who keep asking if it's really me on the swinger sites SLS and SDC, and Tinder. I'm prowling for that one-in-a-million fuck buddy with a cock so magical it makes my pussy convulse in a cum-soaked frenzy. I'm talking about a guy who can pound my holes until I'm a sloppy mess, leaving me dripping with his load and begging for round two. That's the point of being on these sites, isn't it? The thought gets me wet, I guess from thinking I'll find some stud who knows how to work me over, overfilling me until my thighs are dripping cum and my clit's massive and throbbing from the aftermath. I'm a single chick on these swinger sites, which, and I'm being serious here, is like being a unicorn in a field of horny goats. I'm clear in my profile, though. I make sure that it's known that I am looking for guys to pump my holes full of sperm, no drama, no bullshit. No travelers, no hotel buddies. The idea of that hits me hard, excites me, and, to say the least, is a turn-on. I can see it in my head that moment when I'm pinned down, his cock slamming into me, melting my insides, and turning my brain off with massive orgasms. It's how I wish things would go.
But here's the letdown. And there is always a letdown. These sites are like Tinder for swingers—full of folks who live a million miles away or miss the mark I'm looking for in more ways than one. I'm loaded with messages from couples trying to pimp out their wives like it's a barter system. "Hey, take my wife's pussy for a spin, but only if I can shove my dick in your guts."That's a just-say-no scenario. It's taking one for the team, and it's a hard pass. Honestly, I find it slightly creepy. If anyone ever offered me up to get his dick in someone's pussy it would be over instantly. I feel bad for the wife/girlfriend.
Who wants a partner that makes the choices and most likely the rules for you? I'm not going to let some rando husband plow me just to get a taste of his wife's clit. I seriously would let my partner pump cum in some hotties ass till his dick dry heaves without me being there. He wouldn't even have to ask. All I ask is he gives me all the tasty details afterward. But only if she wants him on his own merits, don't ask me to find your pussy for you. I have a hard enough time finding dick. Anyway, I'm off track as usual, back to it. I do spell it out clearly on my profile. If I'm in the mood for pussy, which isn't all that much anymore, as the dick has become my obsession, I'm happy to borrow your wife, let her suck my clit until I flood her mouth, and then do the same to her. When I'm done, I'll send her ass promptly back home to you. No husbands are required. But profiles don't get read all that much. I get a parade of offers that seem like pimped-out negotiations and guys who think "close" means a three-hour drive.
Don't get me wrong. I love being on swinger sites and even Tinder. Every now and then, I do find a cock that works my cunt so well that I can't give up on these sites. I suppose it's a cock safari. The thrill of the hunt, the high of finding that guy who can fuck me into oblivion. Even though it can be a slog through a swamp of questionable people and bad matches, the occasional hit on a magical cock makes it worth it.
I went back to Jake, my kind of ex, the one I dropped for Shane. I'm still caught up in feelings for Jake, but not like the ones I have for Shane. And, of course, there is my husband, but as you know, he's been reduced to less than a roommate. And now, I'm getting off on doing the same to Jake, slowly breaking him down, making him mine to control. Every time I touch his dick, I get a little more power over him now, and it's like a drug, making my pussy ache with how excited I am about owning him.
When I got to Jake's place, I decided to be upfront and not waste time or energy on something he wanted, that being me, but wouldn't get. So, without sugarcoating, I told Jake straight up that Shane's taken his place, that he fucks me better, and emotionally we are a better fit. I used the example that Shane did the same thing Jake did to Scott when he took ownership of me from my husband. I watched Jake's face get all sad. I guess that stung more than I thought it would. But then again, he used to be the king, the one who laughed at Scott, who fucked me into submission while my husband faded away. Now he's the one who's been replaced, removed by Shane, losing me the very same way. He seemed humiliated, and I thought maybe I should leave because he obviously didn't like hearing what I was telling him. The thing was, I could feel my clit getting fat and hard just seeing him shrink, but when I turned to leave, he begged me to stay. Begged. I'm not kidding. That's when I knew I had him. His pride was gone, his dick was in control, and that made him want me more than he wanted his dignity. I knew we were going to fuck right there and then, and I knew it was going to be much different this time.
He was timid, as if I broke him, but very eager to please. I told him to get to work on my clit, and he dove in like it was his last chance, sucking and licking for 30 minutes straight. My body was on fire, my clit so hard it felt like it could explode. I made him stop, not because I was done, but because I wanted to push him harder. I ordered him to jerk off for me, to stroke that perfect cock while I watched. The same thing he used to laugh about when I told him I made my husband jerk off in front of me. But I didn't just want to see it. I wanted to own him, make him my toy. He did it with no hesitation, massaging his balls like I told him while I rubbed my rock-hard clit, getting wetter watching him shrink in front of me.
.
I asked if he liked it, this new way we fuck, where I'm the one calling the shots. He nodded, but that was weak. I made him say it, made him admit he was into it. Then I twisted the knife because I knew I could. "Now you know how my husband feels. Do you like it?" Jake asked if he had a choice, and I shut it down. When I said "No," he quickly said he said he liked it, and the rush of humiliating him, of seeing the man who once owned me was able to turn me into a brainless cum sponge for his dick, who is now the one submitting to me, it went straight to my cunt. I wanted to crush Jake, turn him into a cuck, a pathetic version of the man he was, just like I did with Scott. But, and this is a big "but." His dick fucks it all up. It's perfection. It's bigger than Shane's, thick, gorgeous, the kind of cock that feels like it was built to ruin me. Shane's sexier and more fun. More importantly, his dick is close enough and strong enough to keep me hooked, but still, Jake's cock is the best I've ever had, bar none.
Still, after he worshipped my clit and jerked off for me, I couldn't resist. I needed that perfect dick inside me. Needed to feel it wreck me. So I spread my legs like I used to for him when he was the one in charge and told him to put just the tip in. That fat, flawless head slipped inside, and I took control, using my hips to tease it in and out, keeping him still while I fingered my clit. I was running the show, and it felt so fucking good. When he said he was gonna cum, I didn't want to waste that load. I slammed my pussy down, taking him balls-deep, his cock buried so far it was hitting bottom, flooding me with cum. I was chasing that mind-blowing orgasm I've had with him before, the kind that leaves me trembling, his cock so deep it's like it's rewriting my insides. But I didn't come. I was close but didn't quite get there. I was disappointed, honestly. Jake's given me many of the best orgasms of my life, but this time? It was good, but not enough. And I told Jake that. He apologized to the point of annoying me. I told him I'd let him know if I would let him make it up to me, and I left, ignoring his excuses of how he would do better. He did fine for what I wanted. He exceeded my expectations as far as my mental kinks go, but I'll never tell him that.
I haven't rubbed one out yet, but I'm going to, and I know what will be running through my head. It's not just the sex—it's the high of humiliating Jake, of turning the man who once took me from my husband into the one who's lost me to Shane. He gave up his pride and begged me to stay, making my pussy drip. Now, I want to push him further, see how much more I can take from him, how low he'll go for me. Shane is the man I want and I know I am into him way more than I should be. He makes me feel so alive, especially when he's got his cock in my throat, but Jake's perfect cock and this game of breaking him...well, I'm nowhere near done with Jake yet...and if he goes down the rabbit hole with me, I may never be done with Jake. Oh well, two...wait, I forgot I was married. That makes three men....and for me, three men are better than one!
Look, I’m gonna lay it all out here because this is who I am, and I’m not ashamed of it. I’m married to Scott, but let’s be real—our marriage isn’t some sacred bond anymore. I openly cheat on him, and I don’t give a damn if he knows. It’s not a cuckold thing in the classic sense, but I’d call it an emotional cuckold dynamic. I’ve cut him off completely from seeing me naked. That privilege, that intimacy, it’s not his anymore. It belongs to Shane, my 30-year-old lover who’s got me wrapped around his damn finger. And yeah, I’m obsessed with Shane—emotionally, sexually, every fucking way. But then there’s Jake, my 45-year-old ex, whose cock I can’t stop craving. Tomorrow, I’m sneaking off to see Jake, to feel his massive dick pump me full of cum again. I won’t tell Shane, but I need it. I need both of them, and I love making Scott suffer in the process. Here’s why this shit turns me on so much.
First, let’s talk about Shane. He’s younger, fun, relaxed, and just gets me in a way Scott never could. I’m in love with his cock—perfectly sized, thick, and it fucking resizes my pussy every time he slides it in. I could take it 24/7, no joke. I dream about it, fantasize about it, and when he’s fucking me, it’s like my whole world narrows down to that moment. His dick owns me, stretches me, makes me feel alive. Emotionally, he’s got me hooked too. He’s not just a fuck; he’s my everything right now. I feel like I belong to him, like my body is his to claim. That’s why I don’t let Scott see me naked anymore. Stripping down for Shane feels like giving him my soul, my desire, my fucking essence. Denying Scott that view? It’s like slamming a door in his face, reminding him he’s nothing to me sexually. It’s cruel, and that cruelty gets me wet. It’s power, plain and simple. I love knowing he’s left in the dark, humiliated, while Shane gets to see every inch of me, touch me, fuck me senseless.
Now, denying Scott isn’t just about Shane. It’s about me reclaiming my body and my pleasure. Scott’s my husband, sure, but he doesn’t own me. I decide who gets access, and he’s lost that right. When I refuse to let him see me naked, it’s like I’m saying, “You’re not man enough for this.” It’s a mindfuck for him, and I get off on that control. It’s not just about physical denial; it’s emotional. I’m tearing him down, making him feel small, while I’m out there getting fucked by men who make my pussy sing. The humiliation I put him through—knowing I’m giving my body to Shane, knowing I’m obsessed with another man’s cock—it’s a rush. It’s like I’m punishing him for not being enough, and that power dynamic makes me feel like a fucking goddess.
But then there’s Jake, and holy shit, I can’t stop thinking about him either. I left him for Shane, but his cock? It’s a goddamn masterpiece. Slightly bigger than Shane’s, perfectly shaped, like it was sculpted to be the ultimate dick. In the year we were together, he pumped more cum into me than Scott has in our entire marriage. I can still feel it—his thick, hot loads flooding my pussy, hitting my cervix, swimming around inside me. It’s like he was breeding me, turning my insides into a sloppy, cummy mess, and I fucking loved every second of it. Tomorrow, I’m going to see him, and I’m already dripping thinking about it. I need his dick inside me again, need to feel his balls empty into me, need that primal, animalistic release. I won’t tell Shane because I know he’d hate it, but I don’t care. I’m not choosing between them; I want both. Shane owns my heart and body right now, but Jake’s cock is a fucking addiction I can’t quit.
Why do I crave this? Why do I love having multiple men while denying Scott? It’s about freedom, power, and raw fucking desire. With Shane, I’m emotionally and sexually consumed. He makes me feel seen, wanted, alive. With Jake, it’s pure, unfiltered lust—his cock is a drug, and I’m chasing that high. Denying Scott amplifies it all. It’s not just about saying no to him; it’s about saying yes to myself, to my pleasure, to men who make me feel like a fucking queen. Every time I let Shane or Jake fuck me, it’s a middle finger to Scott’s inadequacy. I love the cruelty of it, the way it twists the knife in his ego. It’s not just about their cocks (though, fuck, those are perfect); it’s about me owning my sexuality, my body, my desires.
So yeah, I’m obsessed with Shane’s cock, in love with how he makes me feel, and I’m sneaking off to let Jake breed me tomorrow. Scott? He gets nothing but the humiliation of knowing I’m out there, giving myself to men who deserve it. This is my kink, my truth, and I’m living it unapologetically.
Look, I'm a 58-year-old married chick who's got a pussy that's screaming for action. The husband, as you all know, isn't going to get the job done, and let me tell you, finding a guy to ram his cock in me and leave me oozing his cum is like trying to find a unicorn in a dumpster. Yes, I have Shane, Jake, and occasionally a few others, but unlike pussies, dicks come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and the more, the merrier. Everybody thinks, "Oh, you're a woman, just walk into a bar, and dudes will be tripping over their dicks to get to you." Bullshit. I barely get approached, and when I do, it's usually some weirdo who's one bad day away from wearing my skin as a dress. Quick silence of the Lambs reference there for those who didn't catch it.
Obviously, I'm not out here looking for a fucking soulmate—well, at least most of the time, I just want a hard dick to rearrange my guts, fuck me until my eyes roll back, and then smile as they say, "see ya" while I'm still dripping their load out of one hole or another that it was left in. Maybe I'm open to something more if the stars align, but good luck finding that. Guys my age? Jesus, they come in two categories. They are either falling apart like a soggy taco or overly fit and obsessed with letting me know how fit they are and giving me tips on what I should be eating. Plus the older guys tend to be so clingy that they're texting me "wyd" at 3 a.m. like I'm their parole officer. I am not a fan of having my pussy on a leash.
So, I go for the younger guys—fresh meat, or one would think. They've got the stamina to pound me into next week and the cum to leave me looking like a glazed donut. But holy fuck, it's a dick minefield. I bet I've had at least fifty 30 to 40-year-olds ghost me or freeze up when it's time to nut down my throat. I'm serving them my pussy on a silver platter, and they are too scared to pull the trigger? I'm not asking for a marriage proposal...I just want you to fuck me stupid and leave me leaking.
It's exhausting. I get myself all worked up, ready to have my holes stuffed with cock.... and nothing. High and dry. Maybe it's because I'm not shy about what I want—I'll tell a guy straight up I want his cock slamming me until I'm dripping cum out of every hole. But apparently, that's too much for some of these fragile egos. The landscape has changed so much over the years. It's not that guys won't show interest...they just want to "get to know me better" first. I'm thinking, what better way to get to know me than by letting suck the sperm out of your balls. I say keep it simple...fuck me, fill me, and fuck off.
Look, I’m gonna lay it all out here because this is who I am, and I’m not ashamed of it. I’m married to Scott, but let’s be real—our marriage isn’t some sacred bond anymore. I openly cheat on him, and I don’t give a damn if he knows. It’s not a cuckold thing in the classic sense, but I’d call it an emotional cuckold dynamic. I’ve cut him off completely from seeing me naked. That privilege, that intimacy, it’s not his anymore. It belongs to Shane, my 30-year-old lover who’s got me wrapped around his damn finger. And yeah, I’m obsessed with Shane—emotionally, sexually, every fucking way. But then there’s Jake, my 45-year-old ex, whose cock I can’t stop craving. Tomorrow, I’m sneaking off to see Jake, to feel his massive dick pump me full of cum again. I won’t tell Shane, but I need it. I need both of them, and I love making Scott suffer in the process. Here’s why this shit turns me on so much.
First, let’s talk about Shane. He’s younger, fun, relaxed, and just gets me in a way Scott never could. I’m in love with his cock—perfectly sized, thick, and it fucking resizes my pussy every time he slides it in. I could take it 24/7, no joke. I dream about it, fantasize about it, and when he’s fucking me, it’s like my whole world narrows down to that moment. His dick owns me, stretches me, makes me feel alive. Emotionally, he’s got me hooked too. He’s not just a fuck; he’s my everything right now. I feel like I belong to him, like my body is his to claim. That’s why I don’t let Scott see me naked anymore. Stripping down for Shane feels like giving him my soul, my desire, my fucking essence. Denying Scott that view? It’s like slamming a door in his face, reminding him he’s nothing to me sexually. It’s cruel, and that cruelty gets me wet. It’s power, plain and simple. I love knowing he’s left in the dark, humiliated, while Shane gets to see every inch of me, touch me, fuck me senseless.
Now, denying Scott isn’t just about Shane. It’s about me reclaiming my body and my pleasure. Scott’s my husband, sure, but he doesn’t own me. I decide who gets access, and he’s lost that right. When I refuse to let him see me naked, it’s like I’m saying, “You’re not man enough for this.” It’s a mindfuck for him, and I get off on that control. It’s not just about physical denial; it’s emotional. I’m tearing him down, making him feel small, while I’m out there getting fucked by men who make my pussy sing. The humiliation I put him through—knowing I’m giving my body to Shane, knowing I’m obsessed with another man’s cock—it’s a rush. It’s like I’m punishing him for not being enough, and that power dynamic makes me feel like a fucking goddess.
But then there’s Jake, and holy shit, I can’t stop thinking about him either. I left him for Shane, but his cock? It’s a goddamn masterpiece. Slightly bigger than Shane’s, perfectly shaped, like it was sculpted to be the ultimate dick. In the year we were together, he pumped more cum into me than Scott has in our entire marriage. I can still feel it—his thick, hot loads flooding my pussy, hitting my cervix, swimming around inside me. It’s like he was breeding me, turning my insides into a sloppy, cummy mess, and I fucking loved every second of it. Tomorrow, I’m going to see him, and I’m already dripping thinking about it. I need his dick inside me again, need to feel his balls empty into me, need that primal, animalistic release. I won’t tell Shane because I know he’d hate it, but I don’t care. I’m not choosing between them; I want both. Shane owns my heart and body right now, but Jake’s cock is a fucking addiction I can’t quit.
Why do I crave this? Why do I love having multiple men while denying Scott? It’s about freedom, power, and raw fucking desire. With Shane, I’m emotionally and sexually consumed. He makes me feel seen, wanted, alive. With Jake, it’s pure, unfiltered lust—his cock is a drug, and I’m chasing that high. Denying Scott amplifies it all. It’s not just about saying no to him; it’s about saying yes to myself, to my pleasure, to men who make me feel like a fucking queen. Every time I let Shane or Jake fuck me, it’s a middle finger to Scott’s inadequacy. I love the cruelty of it, the way it twists the knife in his ego. It’s not just about their cocks (though, fuck, those are perfect); it’s about me owning my sexuality, my body, my desires.
So yeah, I’m obsessed with Shane’s cock, in love with how he makes me feel, and I’m sneaking off to let Jake breed me tomorrow. Scott? He gets nothing but the humiliation of knowing I’m out there, giving myself to men who deserve it. This is my kink, my truth, and I’m living it unapologetically.
Happy Mother's Day, the day after, to me. I spent it with a guy who was just a thought in his father's balls when I had two kids. And, after telling my husband that, once again, Scott has a shame boner. What goes through his head? I would love to know, especially on days like today, Mother's Day. I spent the holiday with a 30-year-old who masterfully pumped sperm in my guts 3 times yesterday. He fucked me into a cum oblivion to the point I was so cum retarded I forgot my name. Then after letting me recover, he slipped his dick in my asshole, stretching it slowly, letting me feel that uncomfortable stretch transform into pure pleasure until he got balls deep. So deep, he moved things around inside of me with the head of his dick. That feeling of my innards being rearranged and resized made me cum so intense I couldn't breathe.
He took me home, and we sat in my driveway, kissing, and this sounds bad but I wanted my neighbors to see us. Then he pulled his dick out and told me to suck it before I went inside. A 30-year-old, owning me, making me suck his dick on command. If I had any self-control, I would have walked away. Instead, I spent 45 minutes in the driveway making love to his dick with my mouth. I had to...I wanted to...truthfully, I needed to. That 45 minutes of his cock slipping in and out of my throat felt like 30 seconds. When he fed me his cum, it was his third load of the day, and it wasn't that much, but still enjoyable to drink.
Then when I finally did get in the house, I told Scott how Shane's cum felt, hot and thick, swimming in my pussy and ass all day, and how I sucked on his dick in the driveway, swallowing every drop till my belly was warm with fresh hot sperm from his balls. I told him how we passionately made out in front of his house, not caring if the neighbors saw us, hoping they did. Then I shared Shane telling me he loves me and me telling him the same. And what is Scott's reaction besides a defeated look? His dick is rock-hard, like he's getting off on the humiliation. I took it further and described Mother's Day, how I spent it riding Shane's dick, my pussy milking him as he fucked me raw, his cum painting my insides. Still, Scott's erection stayed, like he's getting off on the image of Shanes cum marking me as his. Maybe it's the ultimate kick—knowing I'm gone now, that I've been fucked into submission by a better man. Something he could never do. Is that what makes his cock so hard that he cums without touching himself? Or maybe it's just Shane himself, he pictures the image of a stud half his age who took his job and is now rewriting our story, taking his wife with every stroke of his dick in my pussy. Every pump of sperm in my body makes me a little more his in ways I never was or will be with Scott.
I just don't know. But when I saw Scott's eyes glaze over and his mouth open, I knew he was cumming in his pants. The wet spot soon followed, getting larger by the second. Now he looked humiliated, and as fucked out as I was, my clit was rock hard. I admit it. I masturbated in my bedroom alone with a vibrator, thinking about Scott's humiliated face from cumming in his pants. Happy Mother's Day to me!
Happy Mother's Day. I got texts, cards, and flowers, which were all perfect. To make the day even more perfect, soon I'll be on my knees slipping Shane's cock down my throat, worshiping his cock with my mouth until he feeds me the best Mother's Day present ever, a belly full of warm sperm fresh from Shane's testicles. While his dick is pumping cum down my throat, I'll be thinking about when I was 28, he was still just a tiny swimmer waiting to be let loose from his father's balls to transform into the man who is now releasing his own swimmers from the head of his dick into every hole of my body at will because I can't say no to him or his dick. I don't want to say no. I'm getting carried away. Anyway, tell your Mom Happy Mother's Day.
I went out with Shane last night with a gaggle of couples and some single guys when the convo swerved into porn. Gee, wonder why? My guess would be because everyone knows I've been a porn star and churned out my share of cum dripping flicks. It's not a problem for me, and I own it. I also am aware that the wives are not fans of me. It means nothing to me. They aren't my style. I just put up with them for Shane. But then the ladies start their "ew, porn's so gross" sermon, and I finally blurt out "Bless your vanilla hearts." That made all eyes on me.
I'm not saying every porn clip's a masterpiece—that every corner of the internet is a gem, and I often think, "Who greenlit this dumpster fire?" But the stuff I watch? For me, it makes my clit hard and my box wet. So when these chicks start dunking on it, I'm like, "You folks need to broaden your horizons."
Then they go all in as a group, looking for a knockout punch, calling guys who watch porn "losers." I leaned into that one with a big smile and said, "Ladies, the dudes glued to PornHub? They're not the losers...I'd worry about the guys who don't watch it. Those are the ones with a check engine light on their sex drive amongst other things. But, I guess if you keep a dry pussy that's the kind of man you want...if you can call him a man."
That caused a notable pause in the conversation, and I admit that was probably an over-the-top answer on my part. The thing is, the men all knew I was right...they watch porn but are too afraid to admit it to their wives. Who wants to be in a marriage like that? I was going to stop there, but they keep whining about how porn is disgusting and ruining marriages. I was done playing nice. It was time to get graphic, and I said, "Disgusting? What's gross about a hot dude with a cock like a baseball bat stretching a sloppy wet pussy? I feel sorry for you and your husband if that makes you gag. It sounds like your sex life's drier than a desert. Who wants to live like that?"
Then, one gets all high and mighty and stands up for her friend. She tells me I have a problem and should see someone. So I lock eyes with her and drop the shock factor question...it's a go-to move of mine as it's super effective at throwing vanilla people off their game, "So, you are telling me that wrapping your lips around a fat cock and chugging cum straight from the balls is gross?" She made the "ew" face and said, "Yes, that's not sex, it's not love, it's a desperate act to keep the attention of a man who doesn't love you." I had to laugh and hit her with, "Well, don't cry when your man's spraying his load in some other chick's guts because she's feeding his attention-starved dick because you want to leave his dick in his pants." Now it's personal, and her husband, Tony, tries to pipe up and defend her honor, but I'm on a roll. I raised my voice, "Tony, say it for the cheap seats. Tell us you don't want a blowjob. Tell us getting one is an attention-starved act that it means you don't love your wife." The graphicness of the question locked him up, especially when his wife tried to answer for him, and I put my hand up and shushed her, telling her not to answer for him. Between his wife's glare and the guys smiling at his predicament, he said nothing. I said, "Silence...That's your husband's dick holding a sign that says suck me, I'm starving!" I got some "Fuck you's, and a few other angry retorts, but felt it prudent to add that if you loved your husband, you would at least consider doing things for him he liked and enjoyed, just like he should do the same for you. We went back and forth for a bit until it got quiet.
That made it quite awkward...for them. I was pretty happy with how things went. Then, Shane, my sexy fuck toy, started laughing and went, "I fucking love it when you suck my dick. I'm hoping you take care of that on the way home." I said, "Count on it." And I did. I sucked the sperm right out his balls in the parking lot, I went down on him like a champ, and he pumped my mouth full of his cum. I swallowed it, topping off my dinner and grinning the whole time.
I want to talk about something big, fat, and hard—my clit. It's massive, and I love it. People assume it's from steroids, but it's always been big, and I'm positive it's the reason for my intense sex drive. Guys need to understand why this is a beautiful thing, not something to shy away from. As far as I'm concerned, my clit is a gift, a gift that I love to share!
My clit does amazing things that lots of other unlucky women will never know. When I'm turned on, it doubles in size, gets thick, and the head pops out, looking strikingly like the head of a man's dick. It's not just the look—I'm positive it feels similar too. The sensations are beyond amazing, especially when you stroke around the rim of the head. That slow, deliberate circling drives me wild, and it's a pleasure that takes over my entire body.
I've noticed the same reaction in guys when I focus on the rim of their cock head when I'm working their dick. Their eyes glaze over, they forget to breathe, and I can tell they're lost in the sensation. It makes me jealous because it's like I'm mirroring what I feel. That's probably why I love giving handjobs so much—I get what they're experiencing. I see it in their expressions, that moment when my fingers are hitting all the right spots. My clit operates on the same wavelength as a dick, with one key difference, and that is it doesn't have a cum hole. God, I wish it did. I fantasize about feeling cum surge through my clit, pulsing out into a man's mouth as he sucks it. The thought alone is enough to drive me crazy.
Physically, my clit is my pride. It's pure ecstasy when it's stroked just right—gripped gently, worked with a steady rhythm. It's not just the physical sensation; it's the mental high. Knowing someone's focused on my pleasure, watching them get into it, turns me on even more. I love reversing roles, too, guiding a guy's hand to jerk me off. Seeing his focus, feeling his touch, it's almost as incredible as the act itself. Mentally, it's empowering. My clit is unapologetic, and I feel so connected to my sexuality when it's being worshipped like that.
I've thought about making an instructional video to show how to give a woman with a big clit a handjob. It's my favorite thing—having my clit jerked off is pure bliss. I'd walk through the slow build, the grip, the rhythm, how to tease the head just right. I want guys to get it, to see the beauty in it. My only wish is that my clit could grow even bigger. That would be perfection.
As far as I'm concerned, my clit is a gift, a gift that I love to share!
I found something really good with Shane. I love walking into that shop, the way they all look at me—Scott's coworkers, all those guys who know why I'm there. I make sure I dress the part, knowing they're watching me head straight for Shane. It's like I'm making a statement that, yes, I'm his, I belong to Shane now. I can feel them looking at us when Shane and I leave for his lunch break. They know. They all know. It makes my pussy drool when they turn and stare at Scott to see his reaction to his wife leaving with Shane. I wonder what they might be thinking about. When we come back, I see them turning around to look. I'm sure they know my thighs are still slick from where Shane's been, his cum still warm inside me. It's like a secret for everyone to see, and it makes my clit throbs so hard I can barely walk straight.
Why do I like bowing down to the cock of a 30-year-old? It's the power of it. Shane's cocky, and he takes, takes what he wants. He took Scott's job, his role as my man, and now he's got me, spreading my legs and taking his cum for him like it's as natural as breathing. My body can't say no, and neither can my mind. It's not just the sex—though, fuck, it's the best I've ever had—it's how Shane, like me, wants everyone to know that I am undoubtedly his. He wants them to see me leave with him, see me come back, obviously fucked. It's their looks, and I swear they know Shane's sperm is swimming inside of me. Watching them watch me makes my clit so hard I could almost cum. And the whispers they don't even hide how Scott's wife is getting railed by Shane just add to the high.
This company event's coming up, and I'm going with Shane. I'm nervous, and my stomach's knotted thinking about it. But I'm fingering myself raw thinking about it. I picture us walking in, hand in hand, like we're the couple of the night. Everyone will see...Scott's coworkers, their wives, the whole crew. They'll see me holding Shane's arm, my fingers laced with his, kissing him right there in front of them. It would be hot in some ways if Scott were there. I know he won't be, but I'm touching myself, thinking how my husband will be there by himself, reduced to just some guy in the crowd, an outsider watching his wife become Shane's woman. That thought makes my pussy so wet I can't think straight. But I think it's probably even hotter if Scott just stays away, letting everyone know Shane and I have made him irrelevant in this relationship.
It gets dirtier in my head. I keep imagining slipping away to the bathroom with Shane, dropping to my knees, his cock in my throat. I want to feel his cum shooting straight from his balls into my mouth, slimy and hot, sliding down into my belly. I get so fucking turned on by drinking him like that, bowing to him, grateful he's letting me feed on his dick. But the most critical part is, sexually, I want them to know—all those people at the event, I want them to sense it when we come back that I emptied Shane, my throat still warm from his load, that I'm Shane's in a way that's bigger than just a fling.
I'll be honest. It's fucking with my head. When I tell Scott I belong to Shane now, that I'm in love with him more than I ever was with him, he's upset—I can see it in his face and hear it in his voice...but he gets hard. I see. I have been so confused by it I have reached out to touch it to make sure...and it's hard as granite. I know he's slipping into the bathroom to jerk off when I'm done with him. For some reason, that bothers me, and I don't get why. I'm giving myself to another man, that Shane's cock owns me, and Scott's getting off on it. It shouldn't bug me—I'm literally living for Shane right now, for the rush, for the way everyone knows I'm Shane's woman now—but it does. It's become something I can't get out of my mind. I wonder if he's getting hard at work, too, when his coworkers whisper about Shane bending me over, pumping his cock into my guts. Does he feel that same twisted excitement as I do when he hears them talk about how I'm Shane's now? It's weird that I care because it feels like Shane's everything I want. But somehow, in some twisted way, I want Scott just a little more. Does Scott know that? As unconfident as Scott seems, is it just an act? How could a man get such a rock of a hard-on under this kind of humiliation? Is he into the humiliation, the same way I'm into humiliating him? Does he jerk off at the thought of everyone knowing I'm Shane's? I don't know, and it bugs me that I'm even thinking about it. I want to keep living this, keep feeling this high, but I can't shake the worry that Scott's getting something out of it, too, and I don't know that I like that. I want him to feel the full weight of what I'm doing to him...and when I drop a ten-ton brick on him...his dick stands straight up. It feels like he's playing me. It's one piece I can't quite fit. For now...I'm going to keep things exactly as they are. I don't know what else to do. He may be trickier than I thought. If so...game on!
I played housewife and baked today. But before I did that, I sucked Shane's dick. I never took any clothes off, never let him touch me. I just sucked his dick. It's all I wanted to do. Why? Maybe it's an obsession. Perhaps it's because there is nothing like the rush of sucking a guy's cock and feeling that moment when I'm pulling his cum right out of him. The second I wrap my lips around the tip and start working that slit, I'm dialed in. I can feel my suction, and it's this tight, deliberate pull in my mouth, literally pulling his sperm up through his dick. It's not just sucking; it's like I'm gripping that cum hole with my lips and tugging, slow and steady, like sucking a thick shake through a straw but way more intense. I swear, I can sense it moving—like this warm, pulsing flow I'm coaxing out of his dick with every pull. I swear I can feel it moving through a man's dick. It's beyond satisfying feeling his cock twitch and knowing I'm making that happen, sucking every drop of hot, slimy sperm right out of his testicles. of him. When I feel that first thick swallow going down my throat, it feels like I've won. I know people find that weird and gross, but I never seem to get complaints. Go figure.
Just popping in to show you, that I actually do other things besides sexual activities. I like to cook and bake, they are my second favorite activities to keep me occupied 😜 Hope you are enjoying your day 💋
Dinner was fun tonight. I took great joy in telling my husband how I begged for Shane's cock and how deeply I felt for him, a man half his age who is now his boss. I had to touch myself under the table...I couldn't help it. My clit was so big and hard I had no choice. I didn't tell him about Jake. I probably will tomorrow after he faces Shane at work.
Anyway, to the point. Scott sat across from me at the kitchen table. He was in a pretty good mood. He hasn't had to face Shane yet, but he will tomorrow so I thought this would be a good time to let him know my feelings. I just got straight to the point. I casually said, "You know, Shane is "better at everything. His cock, his job, the way he makes me cum. I crave it. Every time he fucks me, I forget about you just a little more." Though, in all honestly, I do look at Shane's cum dripping dick fresh out of my pussy and think about how I will never let Scott feel that again." Just saying that makes my clit throb...it really does.
My pussy was in a mood, and the head of my clit was so big and hard it looked like the head of a man's cock. It made me want to crank it up heavy on Scott tonight. So, I slid Shane's text to me from earlier across the table. "Can't wait to see you tonight. I've been thinking about you all day. Love you!"
I replied, "I'll get there as soon as I can, and love you back!"
His face dropped, and he told me to stop it, but I noticed he was trying to hide something. I watched his hand move toward his crotch, trying to cover his perverted erection. "Still getting hard for this, huh?" I said. "Even knowing he's your boss now. The man who took your life, your pride, your place in my bed, and taken my body from you. And here you sit, getting hard knowing I feel more for Shane than I do you. How is that possible?" I asked him. He wouldn't answer. That's okay. I will never tell him how much I love that about him. He doesn't need to know. It might change the dynamic.
I could see Scott looking at my hard clit, and I said, "You'd beg for even a taste, wouldn't you? To feel what he does to me? But it's not going to happen. You can sit there with your silly hard-on...which you should be ashamed of, while I go to him. Again. And again."
I stood and left him there like that. I got myself ready and headed out the door. I drove to Shane's as wet as I have ever been, thinking about Scott at home, alone, fingers wrapped around his humiliating erection, imagining Shane's cock replacing him a little bit more with each stroke of his cock in my pussy, and that made my pussy drip more.
Why is this a turn-on? I have no idea. Why does Scott get a raging hard-on when he knows I want Shane more than I do him? Again, I don't know. I don't care. We are both obviously into some serious kinks that most people would run from. Again, I don't care. All I want is Scott to cum, picturing me riding Shane's younger, stronger body. Knowing his boss, the man he now reports to is the only one who makes me scream. That's the power of the pussy...and I like the way I use that power on Scott. Scott's face will say that he doesn't feel the same, but it's obvious his dick feels the same way I do. How weird that must be to have your brain say one thing, and your dick do the complete opposite. It never ceases to amaze me how Scott's dick can get hard, knowing I would rather be with another man. It's what I call our "marriage-saver shame boner." I can't imagine myself being married to anyone else. What are the odds I could find a guy who gets hard under these circumstances? Slim to none.
I'm 58 years old, and I want to fuck more than you do. That's not a guess—I'd bet money on it. Call me a sex addict, a pervert, whatever you want. Doesn't change a thing. I love sex. I think about it all the time, and I'm not ashamed to say it.
Guys think they can take me to some expensive restaurant, buy me a meal, and maybe I'll sleep with them. Please. I can pay for my food. I don't need your overpriced steak. I'd rather skip dinner and get right to it—take your cock and fuck myself stupid until I can't think straight. After that, we can eat. Whatever's in your fridge is fine. A sandwich, some leftovers, doesn't matter. If you've got nothing, we'll run to Wawa, grab something quick, and be done with it.
I'm not there for the food when I go to a nice restaurant with a guy. I'm thinking about what we could do under the table. Sliding my hand up your thigh, taking your cock out, maybe spreading my legs so I can feel your fingers inside of me...and maybe more. Seriously, at my age, if we're just sitting there eating, what's the point? I didn't get dressed up to talk about the weather. I want to feel something, something hard and leaking, something that will flood my guts in the not-too-distant future with cum.
Dating has become a joke. Men see my age and think I'm some sweet older lady who wants flowers and slow dances. No. The only slow dance I want to do is with the head of your dick dancing in my throat. I don't care about romance. I care about getting off. My kids are grown, my bills are paid, and I don't have time for silly games. I know what I want, and I'm not shy about it. I don't have the time to be timid.
People act like women my age should be quiet, act proper, maybe knit, or some other silly crap. Screw that. I'm 58, my pussy is wetter than it's ever been. I'm not slowing down—I'm just getting started. So, guys, don't waste my time with fancy dinners. Please take me to bed, the couch, or the back of your car. I'd rather fuck first, then, if you fucked me good enough, we just might be hungry. And women my age? Stop hiding. If you want dick, go get it. Life's too short to waste available and willing hard cock. Your pussy will thank you. This has been a public service announcement. Please resume your normal activities.
I have Shane now, and yes, he's half my age, and yes, it is getting serious, and I want it to. I hope it goes way further. You would think that would be enough...but it's not. I keep thinking about other men, wanting their cocks inside me, wanting to feel their cum flood my body. And like a cliche, I have this fantasy about a handsome cop pulling me over. It's the standard porn movie scenario, but I would love for it to really happen. Me taking his thick cock in my mouth, sucking until he cums down my throat. I want it to go further than that. I want him bending me over his car, fucking me hard, his cum pouring into me, and in my mind, I would just beg for more. And then there is the one constant part of all my whacked-out fantasies. Afterward, I'd go home and tell Scott, so casually, like it's nothing: "A cop fucked me today. After I sucked his dick, he slipped his dick in me and filled me with his cum, and I loved every second." The thought of saying that, watching Scott's face drop and his cock harden, it's like a drug. I can't stop thinking about it. I need it.
