Bedroom glows dim. Skype rings. Pierre’s face pops up from China. Heart races. Guilt gnaws after Ayaan’s endless orgasms. ‘Tell me everything, babe.’ I spill. Her tongue everywhere, slow, teasing. No rush, no beard scratch. She edges me, switches spots. I cum non-stop. Pierre quiets. Shit, too honest. ‘Yours has love, the real fire.’ He relaxes. I brag making her squirt too. Her huge clit, musky scent—learned fast.
Work buzz next day. Hook Ayaan up with salon job. Client bites—tests her massage rep first. She’s a star. Lend her my tight brown dress. Boobs spill perfect. Gig secured. Libido crashed, but evening solo. Check emails. Patrice’s hits hard. ‘You’re a wild mare, need training.’ Coach bullshit. Voyeurs jizzing windows? Strangers’ cocks, anal bliss, gangbangs, tantra studs, DP frenzy. Pussy floods. ‘Two cocks stretching me, sliding thin walls apart.’ Fingers itch. He’s no pimp—just mirrors my dirtiest dreams. Clit swells. No toys tonight. Flat on belly, hand snakes under. Madonna pulses. Hips grind air. Fingers circle hood. Sparks fly. Ondulate slow. Edge builds. Sharp spasms rip—three quick cums. Phone buzzes. Ayaan: nailed interview, dinner invite. Perfect.
The Awakening
Saturday dawn. Naked under sheets as ordered. Door slams. Pierre strips frantic. Crashes in. Lips crush. Cock rigid, slides thighs. Legs splay wide. Soaked ready. He spears deep. Thrusts brutal—bed shoves. Four pumps, he erupts. Hot spurts flood. ‘Quick bunny,’ I tease. Wipe gush. Chat Ayaan gig. He probes. Dream slips: him pounding me, her tongue on clit. ‘Threesome tease.’ Hunger reignites. ’69?’ His dick swells. Face to pussy—lips suckled, tongue spears walls. Saliva coats ass. Thumb probes ring. Wiggles in. New. Dirty thrill. Second finger forces. Stretches tight. I clench—fire. He laps clit. Swells huge. Waves crash. Anus pulses on digits. Roar escapes. Cum shatters—anal joins, Richter max. Body quakes.
Recoup. His cock throbs. Flip it down throat. Awkward angle, no frenulum tease. Slurp greedy. Pump fast. Invent: twist tongue, suck balls. He groans. Pussy drips again. ‘Muscle my cunt?’ ‘Yes.’ Edge him. Pull out, yank skin taut. Purple head bulges. Milk veins. Crave his load—face glaze, tits paint. Secret burns sweet. Ayaan’s touch lingers, email filth fuels, Pierre owns. Taboo cocktail. No one knows this slut wife. Thrill eternal.