Old farmhouse, middle of nowhere France. Divorced ten years, hermit life. Barely see folks, especially women. Closest neighbors: Franck and Laurianne. Him, my buddy. Her, plump blonde, shy painter tending sheep. Great cook. No kids, tense topic.
Their dog Kola crashes at mine often. One day, he’s wheezing on the kitchen floor. Panic. Burst into their place yelling. Door wide open. Laurianne bent over desk, naked. Some guy balls-deep, pounding her from behind. Heavy tits swinging. She spins, eyes lock. ‘Your dog…’ I mumble. Flee.
The Awakening Rush
She comes over, injects him. Awkward stares. Tension builds for months. Avoid them. Then snowy February, she knocks. Coffee. Apology. Spills: cheats ’cause Franck’s ED from crash. Fingers, tongue, toys—not enough. Needs cock.
Peace kiss lingers. Tits brush. Heat stirs. Months pass. Spot guys sneaking to her place. Jealous rage. Addicted to watching.
May sun blasts. She knocks again. Coffee. ‘You spy on my fucks.’ Caught. ‘Not a slut,’ she says. Tired of quickies. Eyes me. ‘Jealous? Want in?’ Heart pounds. Cock twitches. ‘You’re hot. Plump ass, heavy tits.’ She grins. ‘Mine soaked. Fuck me now?’
Decision snaps. Blood rushes south. Forbidden fire ignites. Her husband’s pal. Shy wife begging. Pulse hammers. ‘Table. Now.’ Excitement chokes me. Years dry—now this.
Clear table fast. Clothes rip off. Her pussy drips, swollen lips glistening. My dick rock-hard, veins throbbing. She climbs up, ass high, cheeks spread. Fat, pale, freckled. Kneel behind. Slap hard—red handprints bloom. She moans, pushes back.
Pounding Without Limits
Condom on—her prep. Grip hips. Thrust in. Tight, wet heat swallows me. ‘Fuck yes!’ she gasps. Pound deep. Balls slap her clit. Table creaks. Sweat drips. Grab tits, squeeze nipples. Pinch hard. She bucks, screams. ‘Harder! Like that guy saw?’
Memories flash—him railing her. Now mine. Faster. Slap ass red. Her juices soak thighs. Pussy clenches. ‘Cum in me!’ Dirty talk fuels. Grunt, slam. Orgasm builds—balls tighten. Explode inside rubber. She quivers, squirts on wood.
Collapse panting. Kiss necks. Reality creeps. Wipe up. Dress. Secret sealed.
Years now. Lovers still. She cheats less, but Ludo visits gallery. Rage boils. Scenes erupt. She purrs, sucks me off to forgive. Franck? Clueless or blind. Same VTT rides, dinners. Smells her on me? Tacit okay.
Thrill endures. Rural shadows hide our sins. Her plump body mine mostly. Jealousy spices fucks. Transgression pulses. No regrets. Pure, raw bliss.