Couple

You find me shivering, rain-soaked, and aching on your doorstep. Your hands are immediately on me, undressing me with a caregiver’s urgency that slowly melts into something hungrier. The warm bath, the candlelight, the jazz—every touch is a soothing prelude that ignites a deeper, feverish need. What begins as a therapeutic massage by the fire becomes a slow, deliberate unraveling; your fingers discover not just my knots but my burning, wet desperation.

Your lips follow, mapping my skin until I’m arching, begging. When you finally slide your cock into my slick heat from behind, the join is instantaneous, electric—a perfect, gasping fit. We move together in a frantic, carpeted blur of shared release, our climax a shuddering collapse into each other’s arms. As we drift off, skin to skin by the dying fire, the question lingers: was this just medicine for a sick day, or the start of a deliciously addictive sickness all its own?

Finally, you tie up your homework for the night and come to my door. Silence comes from the inside, so you quietly open the door and peek inside. I’m in a lotus in the middle of my room, in my pants and sash. Incense burns in small holders on three sides of me, and you see the thin needles sticking into my acupuncture points, each needle with a small burning scarlet incense paste at the end. I seem to be a stone, no movement, even breathable. My muscles are clearly defined, as if I pressed in every direction simultaneously, but my pose seems to be relaxed. If you go back in the hallway and close the door behind you, you’ll hear my voice inviting you to come in and join. A little beginning, because you were sure you had been quiet and hadn’t disturbed me, you still slip back into my room and face me, sitting in Indian style, not completely comfortable in a full lotus.

I was a good Catholic girl and didn’t allow sex before marriage, despite having many boyfriends. That’s why I was shocked when my husband showed me a contact magazine, and showed that a man offered to buy used panties from every married woman in London, where we live.

However, we had little money, and husband, Jonathon, said what harm it could do to sell my panties, so he convinced me to have him answer and arrange a meeting in a local saloon bar. We met the guy, and he seemed very nice, and complimented me on my looks, and we had a few drinks, and I got really excited about this guy’s idea with my panties, to do with whatever he wanted, however naughty. Eventually, when we drank more drinks, I got bolder, and when he invited us to his house, I easily agreed to go along with the plan.

When we were in bed, I looked at my sleeping wife, Crystle. She was exhausted. I lost the number of times. By the end, it looked like she had a constant orgasm.

Me? I could only come twice. No, I wasn’t the one causing all her orgasms. No, it wasn’t one dick. There were four dicks next to mine she enjoyed. One after the other. While one she fucked another to get it hard again so it could fuck her again and add another load of hot sperm to that already in her tight well fucked cunt.

Elaine and Bob have been my friends for years. I flirted with Elaine and her back but nothing ever happened in real life and Bob never got jealous, he thought it was part of our good friendship.

One night they got bored and invited me to dinner and drinks. I went straight off work and was warmly welcomed by Elaine who gave us both a drink and we sat and talked. She was wearing a short skirt with a dumbbell top and curled up in a chair across from me. “Fuck! She’s a sexy bitch,” I thought myself feeling my dick stirring between my legs.

We’ve been seeing each other for a while. Literally, it was as innocent as that. I was passionately in love with Sandy, but unfortunately she was married. Even though she knew how I felt, we’ve had lunches free of obligation for months now. A while back we went to various parks and had nice talk. I enjoyed several foot massages and some hand massage to release tension. I even massaged her. And several times we shared a delicious, but chaste and platonic hug. We both knew there was more to our feelings than these “meetings,” and we each hungered for more in our own way. But we were at least loyal, physically loyal.

I’m sleeping. I wake up from the sound of my bedroom door. But I’m not moving, knowing who’s here. I hear her undressing and feel the covers being withdrawn. I feel her warm body next to mine. She follows her finger behind my right ear and kisses my shoulder. Her hands move through my body. When they fish in my underwear (jungle boxer shorts)

I’m rolling on my back. We share a deep kiss while I lift my ass so she can facilitate my only clothes. I kick them out, the kiss isn’t broken. After a few passionate minutes of kissing, she kisses her way through my body. When she comes to my stomach, her hands touch my thighs, starting at the knees. When she gets closer to my erotic center, which stands proud and long, with her mouth her hands work all the way up there. While using one hand to stroke my dick and balls, she licks my dick and uses her other hand to massage where my thighs meet my body. She takes me in her mouth, deeper and deeper, and gives me enough tongue action. Her hand pumps what’s not in her mouth as the other goes on is the work in my joints, moving to my balls and ass too. Harder, longer. As I go over the edge… Slow them down and lick me like a lollipop. I moan, and she continues this blessed torture until it becomes too much. I fill her mouth with my coming. A little shaking along the side of her mouth. She kisses her way back to my body and we share a soul kiss.

My wife looks like a slut. She’s always looked like this to me. She’s a little over a meter tall with big breasts. The kind that needs a bra to hold them up and avoid unnecessary wiggling. She’s no eye-catching beauty, but she has that look that boys know. That I might be a bad girl for the right man. Her big mouth and pouty lips contribute to her slutty look. She wasn’t acting like a slut when I met her and then married her.

I found out my new friend Evelyn wasn’t that moody. She didn’t get upset easily. One day I was a little surprised by a small but sudden change in her mood. We were at the mall, and she asked me to go to one of those fancy women’s boutiques where she was gonna leave a dress she bought earlier. She kept me waiting at the register while she went back to the dressing room to drop off the dress. When she left she was in her usual pleasant, cheerful mood, but when she returned she suddenly seemed distracted and nervous. I was wondering why, but she didn’t say. She just said that the tailor was there, and that he would change the dress but first had to measure her. She said she’d be right back and then walk back to the dressing room. It’s a little funny, but when I saw her walk away, I thought about her body.

I met my current wife Jane on the Internet. Then we were married and very unhappy. My wife was very conservative and unnecessary to say that my sexual energies were unimaginable. An occasional jerk in the shower and sex maybe every two weeks was par for the course. Jane was also married to a very conservative man who actually wanted missionary sex twice a week.

Jane and I had an online affair for three months, and in those three months, we’ve been exploring our wildest sexual fantasies online. I think we thought we’d never meet, so let’s go online. I write Jane e-mails that start a fantasy and ask her to finish them. Boy, did she ever kill them. One of my fantasies was to be dominant over Jane and let her do slutty things. A fantasy I started was Take Jane to a shady club and let her suck a guy in front of everyone in the club. Jane finished the fantasy by sucking everyone in the club.