SO, THAT HAPPENED … [mf] [mast]

When Rick was 13 years old, his uncle got married to a woman named Kylie. She was stunning. No one in the family understood how a woman like her was attracted to a man like him. He wasn’t necessarily ugly or unattractive, but he was rude and short tempered. He was an angry man. Some wondered if it was the money, but Kylie came from a wealthy family of her own, so people weren’t sure …

But Kylie LOVED Rick. Every time they’d go to Michigan to visit the family, Rick asked if he could stay at his uncle’s place. His parents thought it was so great he wanted to spend time with his uncle. But he was really in it for time with Aunt Kylie. Kylie knew it, too. And the truth was, she thought Rick was super cute.

To back things up a little, Kylie was only 22 years old, so she wasn’t much older than Rick. And she aimed to be the cool aunt. The one he could come to and talk about drinking, drugs, sex, girls, rock n roll — all the fun stuff.

But first, she had to make sure he could keep a secret.

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Timing is an incredible thing. Ricky woke up at 8:30am and checked his phone. There was a package outside of his apartment. Not bothering to put on anything other than his funky, colorful boxer briefs, he opened the door to retrieve his package just as a stunning, hungover looking blonde woman in a skimpy dress walked past. He looked up to her. She looked at him and smirked.

“Nice panties,” she said, chuckling.

Ricky looked down at his boxer briefs and then to the hungover girl and smirked.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ve got a whole collection.”

“Do you?” She asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he said.

Suddenly, he became aroused. The hungover chick glanced down. Her mouth opened slowly. Her eyes grew wide as she watched his erection grow right before her very eyes. She nibble on her bottom lip, not removing eye contact from him until he was rock hard. She pulled her blouse down a little, flashing her small, perky breasts to him. She smiled. He smiled.

“Would you like to see them?” He asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

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Adrienne was a wild one. In high school, she used to charge $20 for a blowjob behind the bleachers. She got so popular that she had to take reservations. Five a day was her max. There was only so much cum she could swallow. From time to time, she’d see one of her teachers — they’d give her the universal hand signal she had invented. The first time it happened, she was totally caught off guard. How had he known the signal? Curious, she nodded him on and after class, she approached, cautiously.

“So,” she whispered. “I have a free period in an hour.”

“Okay,” he said, pretending he was too busy grading a paper on his desk.

“Bleachers,” she whispered.

He nodded and she left.

Sure enough, he showed up. Took his cock out and got the blowjob of his life. He grabbed her pigtails as he grunted and exploded into her mouth. His load was thick and tasted like a mixture of salt water and pineapple juice. She swallowed it with no hesitation.

“That was a huge load,” she whispered.

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Emily knew how to play the game. So when her sorority was planning a fundraiser to raise money for breast cancer research, her plan was simple. She’d round up her sisters, tell them to put on their skimpiest, sexiest bikini, and then they would go to the dorm rooms and go door to door asking for donations.

“Boys like tits. Some like ’em big, some like ’em small. So I need volunteers with titties of all shapes and sizes!”

The girls laughed and cheered, and those willing to volunteer raised their hands. It was a perfect mix: there were thick and curvy girls, like Emily, and there were petit girls like Reby, with medium cup sizes. There were Asians with small tits and Asians with big tits. It seemed like all races were being represented: latino chicks, black girls, you name it.

The day of the fundraiser, Emily split the volunteers up by cup sizes so the girls would go in groups of three, door to door. Small, medium, large tits. When they knocked on a door, and a boy (or girl) opened, they would say:

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Around 4pm, she texted:

“I’m wrapping up with a client and then heading home. Wanna come over tonight? Use me like a drunk cheap slut and then leave?”

“Sure,” I said with a winky face. “See you at 7?”

“Yay!” She wrote.

I drove to her place and parked outside. Took the elevator upstairs. I walked down the long hallway and knocked on her door.

“Coming!” she said as she faked a very loud orgasm as she walked to the door. “OH! UGH! OH GOD! OH! OH YES! YES! RIGHT THERE! RIGHT — hey, buddy!”

“Hey,” I said, hugging her. She was fucking DRUNK. Wasted. I looked at the coffee table. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels and a large drinking glass with a shots worth of liquor in it. She picked it up and chugged it and took her pants off, collapsing face down into the sofa.

I stood there, waiting.

“Fuck meee” she moaned quietly.

I undressed and walked over to her. I put my hands on her hips and put my cock inside of her. She moaned as I slid all the way in.

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A girl I went to high school with, but haven’t seen in fifteen years, texted me a selfie the other night at 430am. When I saw it in the morning, I was confused. Surely, this had to be a mistake. It wasn’t a nude selfie or anything lewd. Just a random selfie.

I ruffled my brow and texted her back, saying I was always happy to see her pretty face, but confused nonetheless.

She explained that she’d met a guy with the same name as me and texted the photo to me by mistake. She was so embarrassed, which made me even more confused.

“Why are you so embarrassed?” I asked. “It wasn’t anything lewd.”

“Yeah, THIS time. Jesus. I send a ton of nakey photos. Like, tons. Imagine how different this conversation would have been. I need to pay better attention.”

“And I need to stop imagining what lewd photos you’re sending,” I said.

“LOL. Just let your mind run wild. The lewdest!”

“So if I get a photo of you pegging some guy next week, I won’t be surprised. Cool, cool.”

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She’d been fucking Elliot for a few weeks, now. They met on Tinder and did the standard coffee meet and greet to make sure they got along, that the photos matched reality, and, most importantly, that they didn’t get a strong creeper vibe. At the end of the date, they parted ways and even though he offered to drive her home, adhering to first date protocol, she opted against it.

In Kate’s Uber drive home, she noticed her panties were damp. She was horny. It was all she could do to hold herself together until she was back upstairs in her apartment. She was a woman on a mission, stripping her clothes off in a hurry as she made a beeline for the bed.

Diving under the covers, she grabbed her vibrator, turned it on and gave herself three back to back orgasms. So relaxed, she got up, forgetting that her blinds were open. She gave her next door neighbor a full show while she went to the kitchen and then stood, resting on her island, eating an apple. Her cunt was still dripping down her inner thighs as she composed herself.

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Katia and Lucy had been married for six years. Katia was gay for as long as she could remember. But Lucy … her wife … well, that was a different story. Lucy didn’t even think she was bi until high school, when on a dare, she had to make out with another girl. She did, the boys went crazy, but her pussy was soaked. By college, Lucy was experimenting a little, but she still leaned towards men.

It wasn’t until her late 20s when, on a whim, she decided to go on a date with a girl she met on Tinder. They dated for a year. Lucy loved it. They sex was intense. And they could share clothes, too. Added bonus. But, no amount of pegging and fake cum dildos could replace the real thing.

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Jeff was standing at his usual bar on his usual Friday night when Tori Lightfoot walked in. Tori was a megastar on Instagram with over 875,000 followers. She was a little bit of an independent pornstar, selling her own videos on OnlyFans or on her private Snapchat page, that had over 1,000,000 followers.

She was young, rich, goofy, and drop dead gorgeous.

Every night, she’d post a racy photo of her. Last night, she was in a red thong, hands strategically placed to cover her breasts. She had a lollipop in her mouth and was winking in a boomerang video.

He was, 100%, going to approach, even if just to grab a selfie and buy her a drink. He’d seen her blowjob videos. He’d seen her masturbation videos. He’d even seen her squirt videos.

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I was at a bar with my friend, Sasha, when I excused myself to pee. We had never been to this bar before. It was kind of on the outskirts of town and grungy in the coolest way possible. Fortunate Son was playing on the jukebox as I went into the bathroom and found a guy at the urinal, so I headed to the stall. The bathroom was painted black and the walls were littered with graffiti and stickers.

And then, as I was peeing, I glanced to the side.

It couldn’t be, I said with a bemused chuckle. And so, I snapped a photo of a small hole in the wall and rushed back to Sasha, giddy like a schoolchild, eager to show her what I found.

“Look, look, look,” I said, chuckling to myself as I showed her the photo of the hole in the men’s bathroom.

“No,” she said, laughing. “Is that what I think that is?”

“I mean … I THINK so?” I said.