The kitchen light buzzes harsh overhead. Thursday night. Wife’s at bridge. Doorbell rings. Sophie’s there, dolled up weird—smudged makeup on her freckled, ruddy face. She’s tiny, under five feet, plump belly straining her blouse. Never seen her like this. Heart pounds. She picks the kitchen, not the living room. Sits. Tear rolls down her cheek. ‘I love you,’ she sobs. Hand in mine, so small, fragile. Heat rises. Forbidden. Wife’s bestie since kids. The one she trusts alone with me.
I pull her close. Shoulders tense under my palms. She grabs my arms, yanks me in. Breasts squash against me—heavy, soft, spilling over her bra. Nipples poke through fabric. I squeeze. She gasps. Turns. Lips crash. Wet, desperate. Tongue thrusts in, clumsy but hungry. Tastes like chocolate and tears. Hands roam. Her ass cheeks fill my grip—doughy, real. My cock throbs hard. This ugly duckling, hidden crush. Wife calls her ‘little ass.’ Now she’s mine. Excitement surges. Betrayal juices it. We kiss forever. Saliva drips. Breath ragged.
The Awakening
She breaks it. Eyes wild. Makeup streaks black rivers. Beautiful in wreck. ‘I love you so much.’ Hand strokes mine. Pulse races. I want more. Pull back. But can’t. Lean in again. Bite her lip. She moans low, animal. Body trembles. Knows we’re crossing lines. Wife could walk in. Thrill spikes cock. Pre-cum leaks. Her thighs rub together. Wet for me.
She stands. Tiny against me. Hugs tight. Pussy mound grinds my thigh. Hot through pants. ‘Be patient,’ she whispers. Kisses door. ‘I t’aime.’ Gone. I jerk off later. Cum thinking of her tears, her tits.
Next week, dump Amandine. Sophie’s all now. Pure. No sharing.
The Raw Act
Her doll-filled apartment. Bibelots everywhere. Creepy kitsch. She strips shy. Pale skin, stretch marks on belly. Legs stubby, cellulite dimples. ‘Horrible,’ she mutters. Bullshit. Real. Rush her bed. Puppets stare. Pin her down. Kiss neck. Salty sweat. Suck tits—huge, floppy. Nipples fat, erect. Bite. She yelps, arches. Fingers dive pussy. Soaked bush, sloppy folds. Clit swells. ‘Fuck me,’ she begs. Cock slides in. Tight despite curves. Walls grip. Pound hard. Bed creaks. Her cries echo. ‘Yes, love you!’ Cum floods her. She spasms, squirts messy.
Four times now. Each rawer. Bend her doggy. Slap ass red. Pull hair. Choke light. She cums screaming. Pussy farts air. Dirty, visceral. Tongue her ass. Musky. She rims me back, eager. No limits. Among dolls, we fuck like beasts.
Back home. Wife chats bridge. Sophie visits. Eyes lock secret. She glows. Friends mock: ‘Married guy? He’ll ditch you.’ Wife sneers. Jealous bitches. I seethe inside. Sophie’s mine. Stolen bliss. Cock twitches under table.
Nights alone, replay it. Risk thrills. Wife sleeps beside. I finger self, smell Sophie’s pussy on shirt. Close calls—her sobs that night wife heard. Lies weave tighter. But god, the high. Transgression burns sweet. Her fragility fuels dominance. Pound that plain cunt. Make her mine. Secret pulses. No regrets. Just hunger for next stolen fuck.