Semen and Wine
My name is Michael, and I was born in 1989 in Malibu to a fairly wealthy family. I had many close friends as I grew up, and our families would often host parties and events. For us kids, it was a nice opportunity to learn about manners, wine and, inadvertently, network with others for our own future.
I went to Harvard to pursue a degree in business, where I found the atmosphere of other young, egotistical wealthy kids a bit boring by comparison to home. While they dealt with Adderall and partied in their dorms I took a mostly quiet approach to college, reading in the library in the early and late hours of the day, admiring the sunrise and sunset, and the scent of old leather-bound texts. I would think deeply, and I found this made the various essays and personal anecdote assignments trivial. Like many others from Malibu, I also had an interest in personal health. I would sometimes skip the more dreary lectures in favor of an extended session at the gym and made sure to focus on the aesthetic as well. Squats, pull-ups, sprints, etc – and a typical meal afterwards would include chicken, zucchini, and red peppers.
One advantage of not partying a lot is the distinct lack of beer belly. I had rock hard abs in those days, and arms that swelled with every movement. Horny, rich sluts would make passes at me daily, and I just pretended I didn't realize my piercing gaze, protruding neck bones, and bulge in the front of my pants were visible. Of course, as a teen with my own needs I occasionally enjoyed a night with the ones more similar to myself. That is, until I met Adriana. Adriana was a beautiful brown haired girl with big round eyes from Chile. She was on a student visa and her exceptional academic merit earned her a scholarship. She was about 5'9'' with a narrow frame, very wide hips, and a round butt. She was quiet, thoughtful, and even a little artistic. I fell in love with her.
But, this story isn't about her. In fact, Adriana is my wife, and I'm living now with her in Santiago, where she owns the cutest little Latin restaurant – she imports Californian wines, the finest avocados, and only the best Mexican american recipes. Her place is famous even to locals for the best pozole, and even central american visitors praise her enchiladas. Meanwhile I work in a local office building overseeing the companies operations and supply line. We live a quiet life at home, growing our own grapes and making home-made wine for our own fun, and occasionally having friends over, contrast to life in Malibu.
Rather, this story is about Michelle. Michelle grew up with me – specifically, our mothers were best friends, and we would often go together snorkeling in our early teens. Michelle is two years younger than me, about 5'5'' with pale blonde hair, and the best damn smile you've ever seen. As kids we didn't get along all that well – she reminded me of our mothers, and I found her interests to be singularly american and closed-minded. She and her mother are vegetarian and quite feminist, which also contrasted to my own upbringing of steak, sushi, aggressive sports, and otherwise chivalry in public. These days she's working as a publisher and author in Santa Barbara, living on the beach alone, and traveling at every chance she gets. Her personality also attracts others more so than myself, and she has friends everywhere. I found out in January that she would be coming to Santiago to visit her friend Maria, an author and professor at the local university. I found this out through her mother, who basically demanded that we seize the opportunity and meet up.
To be honest I was quiet excited to see her – apart from the few couples we know here, Adriana and I spend most of our time alone, and although I love her more than anything in the world, I guess somehow the idea of a loud american being in my presence seemed refreshing. Michelle was here for a week, and we arranged to meet on precisely two nights: a Friday and a Sunday. I drove across town to La Casa Reunion, a tiny little hole-in-the-wall cafe with BYOB and famous tapas. I brought in a bottle of red, but, since Michelle and Maria had contrasting wine tastes, they had a bottle of each, and they seemed to be enjoying them rigorously. We exchanged hellos with a big hug and kiss on the cheek, her unbelievable american smile piercing me with her excitement – which, even if fake, is beyond my capacity to distinguish. In fact, it's utterly contagious, and even thinking of it now makes me grin. Maria seemed quite nice as well, and we had a light chat over our recent travels, and agreed on the various places each other had to go next. I knew in advance that Maria would be going home afterwards, as she works mornings, and I had prepared a couple of places to take Michelle. I spoke to the owner for a few minutes, offered him the bottle of our home-made red I brought, and paid the bill – which, to my surprise, didn't seem to upset Michelle – I guess she wasn't as volatile anymore, and the rest of our night revealed this was true.
We walked abreast in the warm spring air down a couple of streets to a place called Biblioteca (which is actually a bar) – there was a live guitarist, 20 beers on tap, a medium level of chatter, and her smiling face staring at me asking for advice. I found out what kind of beer she typically drinks, and procured us a pair of options from the selection: a Belgian cask import, and a local double IPA made with south american yeast. She loved the Belgian, and I loved the IPA – no surprise there. We took a seat at a big wooden table, side by side, and I began trying to catch up with her wine while she spoke about 80% of the conversation, no different from the old days. We talked about Maria, her friendships, life in Santa Barbara, life in Santiago, and a bit about our parents. She laughed that her mom was harassing her to have children, but she didn't feel that she was in any rush, and I agree – Michelle is in peak condition and absolutely flawless. We changed the subject to psychology, philosophy, and our perceptions of life and our futures. I had finished two beers to her one, and we headed to the next place, again walking side by side and talking all the way. She seemed to appreciate that I held doors open for her and bought her drinks without making a big deal out of it. I guess as we matured and traveled more our personalities became more in line.
When we arrived at "El Cobertizo", the atmosphere was a quieter but the tables were a bit more secluded. In line with her excitement for the next beer suggestion, we both had bottles of "Flying Dog Raging Bitch", whose name we laughed about and our conversation became more lax. She told me about her relationships, and expressed her excitement to meet Adriana on Sunday. I told her I was glad they would be meeting, and pointed out that Adriana gets jealous and probably won't be in the best mood when I get home. For the first time Michelle's smile ceased, and she seemed to have mixed feelings about whatever was going on in her head. I broke the silence, trying to bring the lax conversation back by bringing up the beer again – she seemed to like it, and told me about how her friends had been getting her into beers recently. She was excited to hear I'm planning to buy a brewery this year with a business partner of mine. The conversation steered back to life, and eventually parenthood. I asked her how she feels about marriage, and said she just wants to marry the one who will be her best friend for life, and who will share experiences and thoughts with her. She was being honest, and I found it very sweet, and felt that we had a mutual trust and confidence in one another.
But then she revealed to me something more interesting – she wouldn't mind having children before marriage, as long as it's a natural pregnancy with the seed of someone she considers flawless. I joked that sperm banks probably don't have what she's looking for, and she told me I'm probably right.
Eventually I walked her home and said goodnight. She kissed my cheek and as she turned to walk away, my fixation on her eyes and smile broke and I admired her soft features – medium, round breasts under a conservative black top, angling slightly apart, her midsection peeking between her top and her shorts, and, as she finished turning, the most perfectly round butt I'd seen in a long time – and attached to nicely shaped legs with tight, tanned skin. I walked fast back to my car, my heart beating fast as I thought about her smile and her voice, but when I got in the car I suppressed the feeling – my wife really is the more flawless creature, and her emotions and opinions are more in line with mine.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/343fkl/semen_and_wine_mf_part_1_of_3
Part 2 / 3: When I got home I had a quick shower and Adriana came in, teasing me in her panties while she brushed her teeth. I realized again my love for her, and my cock grew hard for the first time that night. When I got out she threw a towel at me and tried to pretend she was only "joking" about her jealousy that I took out a girl she doesn’t know. Adriana asked me if she’s pretty – I told her she has a cute butt. Her expression turned to a sly, angry face and she turned around, and asked me what’s wrong with hers. I laughed and admitted her ass was better – bigger and with wider hips, and spanked her softly. We made love passionately that night, but that’s a story for another time. I fell asleep when she rolled out of my arms as always, and dreamt that night about pinching Michelle’s nipples and turning her smile into a pained, horny expression. In my imagination she was still a little more feminist, but wanted to be handled roughly in bed. Fast forward to Sunday, I agreed to meet Michelle before dinner at another place – she was wearing a sundress that was loose but not too short at the legs, and rather conservative towards the cleavage, with wide straps over her skinny shoulders. I liked her shoulders. I took her to Casa de Iluminacion and we sipped half-glasses of red while talking about where we were going for dinner. I told her it was Adriana’s place, and that we’d be served more food and wine than we could possibly finish. I found myself admiring her breasts again, and her neckline seemed to frame and accentuate them like something out of a Parisian artist’s notebook. We talked about our college lifestyles, and at one point Michelle’s face turned severe, and she told me she had been thinking about something very serious, and that she had made up her mind about something that no one would change. My thoughts flashed to the negative, and I became worried that this smiling, happy girl would reveal she was depressed and suicidal, or something of the sort. Instead I got something almost as bad. Michelle told me, that the seed she wanted – and would have – is mine. Specifically, she said she would get my cum in her vagina before she leaves at 10am the next morning. My heart was immediately beating hard, and a lump formed in my throat. "w-what?" I gasped, laughing slightly – no one can make me act like this, usually. A mix of excitement, surprise, severity, and fear swept over me. She sipped her wine again and said "no one has to know about it, and I don’t even need you to fuck me if it’s a problem. I mostly just want your cum… And, I’m sorry, but I know I’ll get it from you." I felt myself involuntarily sitting more straight, and had to force myself to breathe deeply to maintain my usual unfazed nature. I told her it couldn’t possibly happen, that I’m happy with Adriana and such a thing would leave her heartbroken. "Don’t tell Adriana. And if this turns into a child, no one has to know the father is you. I know thousands of people, and no one is like you. I want my kids to have half your genes – think of it as a compliment." I downed my wine and told her we better head to Adriana’s place – "Acantilado". We walked slowly this time, and I asked her why she felt this way, and why she doesn’t want to just wait and have kids with her husband. She revealed to me she’s not sure she ever wants a husband. I told her what she’s doing doesn’t make sense, and I don’t even see her reasoning behind it. She reminded me that her parents were married when her mom was 7 months pregnant, and that she really admired her mom’s feminist nature. She was confident in herself as a parent, and, to be honest, I was confident she could pull it off too. I had a hard time convincing myself that anything other than society was stopping her from having my baby. We sat down at a big table in a secluded part of the restaurant and the wine began flowing. We sat side-by-side in a booth, as Adriana prefers a chair. We were close enough to feel her breath on me, and smell her fragrance. I somehow knew that she was literally moist with anticipation. "Is she just horny, that’s what this craziness is about?", I asked myself. Her cheeks were flushed, and we made small talk. Adriana came in and sat down, and said she’d invited Mark and Anna, a couple of Canadians we’d made friends with while living there. She ordered for the table – pozole, tamales, guacamole, and salads, and of course more wine – I could tell she was hungry. We made our introductions and Adriana relaxed, realizing this girl was harmless and they seemed to get along quite nicely. Mark and Anna arrived just before the food, and we feasted while talking about travels and Mark’s recent business deal. We congratulated him with a toast, bottoms went up, and more wine was poured. Anna began debating with Mark and Adriana about some local sports that I didn’t have much interest in, and Michelle directed her usual chatterbox mouth back at me – she kept hinting that I looked nice, and telling me how much she likes Adriana. After a while I noticed her hand was on my thigh, and she seemed to be trembling. Her lips her slightly open and I felt her getting closer to me. I looked up and saw Adriana now telling a story about her family’s adventures in central america and the now-tipsy Anna and Mark were listening jovially. I smiled at one emphatic quotation of Adriana’s, and suddenly felt a hand at my zipper, thrusting it down in one motion. I turned to Michelle, flinching slightly, and saw that she was keeping a straight face, smiling at Adriana’s story and now rapidly unbuttoning my pants with one hand. "Fuck." I thought to myself, trying to keep my cool. I sipped my wine and had no idea where this was going, but my cock was absolutely and completely erect, tight down the edge of my pants, and my body seemed to know what was coming. She reached down my pant-leg, grasping my cock, before roughly fishing it back through my briefs in a quick motion. She leaned over me, reaching for the wine, and, in the process, inching, casually, much closer to me. When she straightened up again I noted that she had also pulled her dress up higher, and seemed to be still pretending to listen to their story. A loud buzzing in my ears relaxed and I snapped out of it, noting now that Mark was talking about Chilean politics and proposing various reformations. Michelle began stroking my member with very precise intention, keeping her hand slow and steady, but with just the right amount of force to keep getting me closer. I was secreting precum rapidly, and she wiped it off of me with her hand, transporting it onto her thigh. God damn, her thighs looked amazing – she had her legs hanging over the edge of the bench, and in this position her thighs looked bigger and more pronounced. I admired her light veins, and as I was looking, she reached with her other hand and lifted her dress a little more, revealing a gorgeous, trimmed brown bush of pubic hair. My breathing started to become heavy and I looked at her – she made eye contact and smiled, rested her head on my shoulder, and got a little faster. I reached my hand to hers in hopes to slow or stop her – actually I don’t know what I was doing at that point. She stopped violently, grabbed my left hand and put it around the head of my dick, her small, warm hands closing my fingers around myself. She then coughed in her hand quietly, and reached down with two hands now, lightly touching my leg with her left, and what I found to be her spit on her right hand stroking me. I moved my hand out of the way and let her fondle the head of my penis with her wet palm, and I turned to notice that her arms were pressing her breasts together, and her conservative dress was open just enough to give me an amazing view. I pictured her nude for a split second and immediately began cumming. She squeezed my dick head and quickly took my left hand back in place, before letting me fill my hand with cum. Distressed and oblivious to what she was hoping to prove, I just took a sip of my wine. I finished, and she inched closer once more, roughly taking my hand between her legs. "Oh, fuck. Fuck. Seriously, Michelle?" I thought to myself, and she began fucking her extremely wet vagina with my cum-soaked fingers. She yelped a high-pitched moan as her two hands were around my wrist, fucking her perfect pussy like a toy. It felt absolutely amazing, and my dick was even coming back to life. Her legs squeezed my hand with such pressure it began to hurt, and I felt her contracting rapidly, before, shaking, pulling my hand out of her. I quickly wiped my hands on a napkin and let it fall to the ground.
Part 3 / 3: Adriana and Anna were talking about stars – apparently Saturn was particularly visible that day. Mark was looking at me with a curious expression, and we all sipped our wine. Adriana and Anna offered Michelle to come with them for some hiking and star gazing. Mark had some business to attend to the following morning so retired early. I reminded Adriana that Michelle didn’t have a car, so offered to drive her to their trailhead. They all agreed and so Michelle and I started walking to my car, while Adriana and Anna waited behind – their cars were just outside. Along the way I didn’t say anything to Michelle, but eventually she broke the silence saying she needs my cum just one more time, and she promises no one will ever hear about this again. I wasn’t in any position to argue with her, so we quickly drove to the trailhead and I proposed that I get her my cum in medical container before morning. Of course I realized how improbable that was, and so did she. "Look, it has to be tonight, and it has to be now. We can do whatever you want, as long as I get the cum.", she said, leaning towards me and putting her hands on my hand. I looked at her with a pained expression. She began unzipping the dress, and looking me deep in the eyes with a very sensual, slow blink of her eyes, that made me start to grow a little. I told her if she can get me hard I’ll give it to her. "That won’t be fast enough" she said, revealing her beautiful breasts – I would guess 34C, with small, pink nipples – so perky and hard. She got on her knees in my passenger seat and presented her ass to me. To be honest, she didn’t need to do this. I could get hard just knowing she wasn’t wearing underwear. She arched her back and I could actually see a bit of my cum still dripping out of her. I sighed. "Now!" she demanded. Realizing I don’t have much time, I whipped my pants off, opened the door, grasping her by the hips and pulling her onto my seat. I turned off the dome light and admired her round butt in the moonlight. She reached back with one hand spread her cheeks a little, revealing a waxed asshole. I gulped. I actually really wanted this. I pointed my throbbing dong at her, and inched it slowly in. She cried out, and eventually began moaning and shouting for me to fuck her harder. I had such a strong desire to slow down and enjoy it, but she was gripping me and spanking herself, and so I heeded her demands and fucked hard and fast. I watched as her long, blonde hair flowed; admired the muscles in her back aligning, and flexing with every thrust; and I spread her cheeks, and stared, transfixed, between them. Every thrust had my engorged dick vacuuming more of our fluids out from her insides, and this cream was covering the veins that run the length of my phallus. I spit between her ass cheeks, immediately regretting being so unprofessional about it, but when my saliva hit her anus she moaned loudly, reached back, and rubbed it on herself. I closed my eyes and fucked faster, and she started literally crying as I tore into her. I felt her tense up, and her pulsating orgasm was upon me. She was silent, unbreathing, and in that moment I too filled her canal with my fluid, before we both stopped, and she began breathing again. I was still fully inside her, and found myself staring at her ass still. "Now what?" was all I could muster. "Get off of me, I don’t want to drip in your car" she said, exasperated. Good point, I thought, and got out of her way. She stepped out in the moonlight, nude, shaking a little, and seemingly extremely pleased. She started uneasily putting her dress on, slowly, and just said two words – "thank you." Adriana and Anne arrived shortly thereafter, and I said goodbye as I had some work to attend to at home. I drove home, praying she wouldn’t say anything. This was three weeks ago. She’s pregnant. Adriana hasn’t said anything.