Why did I mess up their marriage? Was it because I wanted to exact revenge in some childish way towards my parents for having a toxic marriage? Nope. My parents were happily married. Was it to prove a point? That no marriage is forever? Nope. I’m not bitter or out to prove a point to people. So, why did I mess up their marriage? Honestly? Because she was beautiful and I wanted to see her naked. I wanted to feel her, smell her, hear her moan, see her squirm. Simple as that.
So, I texted her and said, “Saw you outside of the Starbucks on Utah RD. Lemme know next time you’re there and we can grab a coffee.”
She responded with a distance keeping smiley face. Challenge accepted.
A few days later, I texted her to say I was at the Starbucks on Utah if she wanted to come by and join me. She responded by saying, “Maybe next time! I’m across the street getting my hair colored.”
Bingo. “I deliver,” I responded.
“Okay lol. Latte. Grande.”
I brought her her coffee, chatted briefly and then, to keep the intrigue high and keep myself OUT of the friendzone, I told her I had to go.
Two days later, my phone buzzed. It was her.
“Thanks again for the coffee,” she wrote. And then, those three little bouncing dots appeared. She was typing. And then the dots disappeared. And then they returned. And then they disappeared. And then, nothing for a minute. I knew exactly what was happening. She was intrigued. She wanted more. She wanted to say something that very well might have crossed the line. And then, bam:
“My husband would have never set foot in the salon,” she wrote.
“Insecure about his masculinity?” I asked with a winky face.
“You could say that,” she wrote.
I put my phone away for the rest of the evening to resist the temptation. To keep her intrigue at Level 10. Where was he? Was he fucking some hot girl? Was he living his best life? Was he out on the town with his buddies while she was stuck at home with two pre-teens and a fat, balding, bored, unadventurous husband?
In the morning, I checked my phone. There were two messages from her:
“I assume you are not insecure about yours?”
2. “I hope I didn’t scare you off.”
I texted to say I had gone to bed early after a busy week. She asked what made it so busy. I responded with the truth: I’d gone on a few dates, went camping over the weekend, dinner with friends, and finally work stuff. Unlike her boring husband who worked and slept and worked and slept, work was the last thing I wanted to mention to her.
We spoke at length about camping. I invited her to come along with me some time. She said if it wasn’t for her husband, she would. I told her to just “leave him behind. He’d slow us down anyway ;)”
She responded with laughter. And then, she followed up to ask me if I wanted to meet her for a drink next week when he was out of town and her kids were at a sleepover. I said yes.
I wasn’t the type to hold back. My intentions were made clear. I wasn’t there to be her friend. When she walked in, I stood, hugged her and kissed her right on the lips. It was a calculated but smart move. She’d feel desired, youthful, sitting in a dark, trendy bar. We ordered drinks. She confessed that her marriage needed work, but she wasn’t even sure she wanted to make the investment. Some things run its course. Her marriage might be one of them.
I found my sweet spot a few years earlier: Recently single women, recently divorced women, or married and miserable women. People who wanted fun with no commitment, no responsibilities, no fighting. Just happiness. Just escape. I didn’t like living with people. I preferred my solitude. I preferred to be alone. I didn’t aspire to be like everyone else: Married with kids. I wanted freedom. And also, sex.
We ordered more drinks. I put my hand on her leg and kissed her neck. I told her we weren’t allowed to talk about boring things like her husband. Only happy things. Where did she want to travel? What did she want to do that excited or scared her?
“I can answer both questions: I want to travel to your apartment and put you in my mouth,” she said.
I threw a handful of cash on the bar. Another calculated move. Her penny pinching husband would have asked for the check. He would have sat there squinting at the bill, calculating the proper tip, making some obnoxious comment about the high cost of cocktails. Not me. Forty bucks on the bar. I probably way overpaid. I didn’t care.
We got into an Uber and made out until we got to my condo. She had been groping my cock through my jeans the whole car ride home, nibbling my ear, kissing my neck.
We got upstairs and undressed. She threw her top off and undid her jeans, dropping them to her ankles. And then, she bent over and unzipped her boots, slipping them off. She stepped out of her pants. Her body was incredible. She turned around in her bra and panties and walked over to me. She dropped my boxer briefs to my ankles and lowered herself to my knees, pushing me against my front door. She deep throated me with ease. Her eyes watered, causing her mascara to run down her cheeks. Her dark brown hair flowing over her face, her hazel green eyes staring up at me.
She pulled my cock from her mouth and kissed the tip.
“Big cock,” she whispered as she licked me from shaft to tip and back down again. And then, she made my cock disappear down her throat as she winked at me. She pulled me from her mouth, a long trail of saliva dangling from her lips. She slurped it up and sucked my cock hard. Fast. Gagging. Choking as she drooled a puddle all over the floor. She was choking herself on my cock, eager, desperate to suck a cock that wasn’t her husbands. She gagged and spat. Her eyes watered. Saliva dripped onto her thighs.
I hoisted her up and pushed her into the sofa, crawling on top of her. I unlatched her bra and put her nipples in my mouth, sucking them, biting them. She writhed as I ran my tongue around them, kissing down her stomach, around her pelvis. I shimmied her out of her panties and threw them on the floor, spreading her legs. Her pussy was warm. Wet. Begging for everything I had to offer.
I ran my tongue down her waxed clean pelvis, kissing, touching, groping. She moaned and whispered, “please.”
I ran my tongue up her pussy, from the bottom to her clit. She shivered as I hovered my tongue over her clit. I grabbed her right breast in my hand as I sucked and ate her pussy. She moaned harder and harder. Her cunt, her tight, pink cunt, dripping all over her thighs. I licked up her juices and stood and kissed her, allowing her to taste what I was tasting before I returned between her legs and finished her off, bringing her to an orgasm.
I slid two fingers inside of her and focused my tongue on her clit, eating, licking, sucking, fingering.
“Godddd,” she groaned as I fingered her harder and harder until she couldn’t take anymore. She came a second time, dripping, almost squirting into my mouth.
She pushed her hair out of her face and caught her breath.
I crawled on top of her and eased my cock inside of her. Her eyes grew wide as I pushed deeper and deeper. I rested my head in between her neck and shoulder, nibbling her ear, kissing her neck as I glided in and out. She moaned as I picked up the pace, fucking her harder and harder.
“Pleeeeease,” she groaned. “Don’t stop fucking me.”
I slammed into her, pressing into her. I reached my hands under her hips and hoisted her up, plunging myself deeper and deeper into her. She watched my cock slip in and pull out. She was moaning. She was rubbing her clit, watching me fuck her.
“You’re. So. Deep.”
I pumped. Harder. Deeper. I pulled my soaking wet cock from her and pushed it into her mouth. She cleaned herself from me, licking her pussy juices off my cock. I flipped her over and entered her from behind, smacking her ass as I did.
“FUCK!” She grunted. “Cum inside of me. Please cum in my pussy!”
I picked up the pace, fucking her harder and harder, sweat dripping from my forehead onto her back, onto her ass. The windows were practically fogging up.
I yanked myself from her and sat down on the sofa.
“Ride me,” I ordered.
She straddled me and began bouncing up and down on my cock, her pussy dripping, her firm breasts in my face. She bounced, riding harder. Riding faster. Screaming. Moaning. I pressed my finger onto her clit as she rode me, wiggling it back and forth until she was close to having another orgasm.
“Cum with me,” she begged.
“I will,” I whispered as she slowed down. She slid up and down, slowly, making every moment count until she started to tremble.
“I’m close,” she whispered. “Blow your load inside me.”
“I will,” I said as she pressed herself into my pelvis and grinded. Her eyes grew wide as she came. I exploded inside of her, soaking her with thick, white cum. She could feel my cock throb, pumping out rope after rope of sperm inside of her cunt. She shivered, gasping for breath as I unloaded myself inside of her, my cock throbbing, pulsating as every bit of semen shot out of me and into her until I was empty.
She collapsed onto the sofa and caught her breath.
“Fuuuuck,” she whispered.
My cock continued to throb as I sat on the sofa. She stood from the sofa and walked over to the hardwood floors. I watched her squat down and drip my cum from her pussy. A torrent of sperm oozed out, some running down her legs. A large puddle forming on the floor. She smiled at me as I watched in awe of her beauty.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I said.
She lowered herself onto the floor and ran her tongue through the puddle of sperm, lapping it up, her eyes locked on mine.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/9wwah3/i_am_a_homewrecker_mf_cheat_oral_mast_creampie
I’ve been her…upvote.