Roughly Forbidden [MF] [prost] [rough]

“I like it rough.”

There was once a time when a woman could say those words with a straight face and nobody would think much of it. They might see her as kinky tastes, but she wouldn’t be ridiculed for it. However, those days were long gone and Jessica Jermaine was too young to remember them.

At 28-years-old, she lived in a very different world. Everyone was so careful. Every intimate act, sexual or otherwise, was carried out with a level of vigilance that felt so comical in principle, but no one dared laugh. One wrong move became a single act of recklessness. A single act brought accusations. Accusations brought condemnation. Not all of it was of the legal variety, but it was sufficient to keep everyone on their toes.

“I shouldn’t have to do this,” Jessica said to herself as she sat anxiously at the foot of her hotel bed, “but that’s the world we live in. I don’t like it, but it’s too late to change it.”

[MF] Fulfilling my wife’s biggest sexual fantasy.

Chapter 1 – Her heart’s desire.

This year we celebrated both my wife’s 50th birthday and our 25th wedding anniversary… on the same day!!! I have been so fortunate that my wife Pamela was so gracious that she picked her birthday to be our wedding day…so I will never forget. She is as beautiful today as the day I married her but love her so much more.
For my wife’s birthday we took a trip to Italy. During a beautiful night in Tuscany, we sat in the veranda of our rented villa, and reflected back on our life together. The only regret we had was we never had kids, we were unable to. But other than that, life has been good to us. We have been blessed.

I asked my wife what she wanted for our future and without hesitation she answered “More adventures”. I raised my glass to toast her and as we drank I caught her giving me a weird look.
I put my drink down and looked at her quizzically. She knew why and she smiled.

“You did not let me finish.” She said, as she took a long sip of her wine. She took a breath and then continued.

Something new. [MF] [Prost] [Anal]

‘What do you mean stale?’ Isabella shouted across the bedroom. She emerged from the bathroom, tying up her thick black hair with the ferocity someone might use to load a shotgun. Michael kept his bright, cool eyes on Isabella’s, such a dark brown they nearly looked black against her pupils. He spoke in his slow, measured way, as Isabella changed into scuffy pyjamas, the nice underwear she was planning on wearing, discarded to the en suite floor.

‘Honey-bunny….’ He started, before, with a hiss of breath, Isabella raised an index finger, ‘Don’t you use pet names on me!’

Michael waited a beat, and then continued, ‘It’s not you. I just want to try something new, something different.’

Isabella had been tightly wound, ready to respond to any personal attack, but as usual, Michael’s careful, easy responses disarmed her anger, and left her feeling rather foolish. She moved forward in silence and sat on the edge of their bed. Michael couldn’t help but gaze, even with her hair tied back with a bright purple scrunchie, her usually elaborate makeup removed, and dressed in an old T-shirt and some shorts, she still radiated beauty and warmth.

Something new [MF] [Prost] [Anal]

‘What do you mean stale?’ Isabella shouted across the bedroom. She emerged from the bathroom, tying up her thick black hair with the ferocity someone might use to load a shotgun. Michael kept his bright, cool eyes on Isabella’s, such a dark brown they nearly looked black against her pupils. He spoke in his slow, measured way, as Isabella changed into scuffy pyjamas, the nice underwear she was planning on wearing, discarded to the en suite floor.

‘Honey-bunny….’ He started, before, with a hiss of breath, Isabella raised an index finger, ‘Don’t you use pet names on me!’

Michael waited a beat, and then continued, ‘It’s not you. I just want to try something new, something different.’

Isabella had been tightly wound, ready to respond to any personal attack, but as usual, Michael’s careful, easy responses disarmed her anger, and left her feeling rather foolish. She moved forward in silence and sat on the edge of their bed. Michael couldn’t help but gaze, even with her hair tied back with a bright purple scrunchie, her usually elaborate makeup removed, and dressed in an old T-shirt and some shorts, she still radiated beauty and warmth.

The Arcade [MF] [Oral] [Prostitution]

Brett turns off the engine and releases a deep breathe. Cold rain beats heavily on the windshield, and without the constant breath of the defroster, the windows have already started to fog.

The interior of the car is bathed in neon red light from the sign above the storefront. It flashes “Adult Arcade” incessantly.

It’s really come to this. Brett thinks back on his last three years at college. Mediocre grades. Unlucky in love to the say the least. Now with finals looming, he was as stressed as he’d ever been.

A friend had suggested a “Night at the Arcade” to unwind. It was a common phrase around the dorms and frat houses of VSU. Even Brett, who’d never been, knew that it had become infamous as a haven for no-string-attached release.

“Booth #1”, his friend had said with a knowing wink.

Brett takes the keys from the ignition and hurries towards the door, managing to get soaked in the process. An electronic chime announces his entry.

The room is bathed in harsh fluorescent lighting and covered wall-to-wall with dingy grey, high-traffic carpeting. Brett tries not to think about what the misshapen stains are. From behind the counter a middle aged clerk gives him a smile and a nod.

I’ve been hiring escorts / models for sex and GFEs [MF]

For the past few years, I’ve been hiring escorts to spend time and sleep with me.

I’d say that I’m average looking, had plenty of girlfriends, and could hold down a relationship. But that’s if I wanted to invest that time and energy. I have a super stressful job, and constantly travel. So I found that hiring an escort or prostitute was much more easier than a girlfriend. Yes, I know it’s illegal, and some same immoral.

It started when I was traveling for work, and was approached by this bombshell at the hotel bar. I thought she was interested in me, but I put two and two together, and figured out she was an escort. She was very attractive, and was willing, so when she stated her price, I agreed and took her to my room. The thing was that… it was really convenient and easy. No drama, no relationships, no guilty feelings about being focused on my job.

Since that first time, I was interested in hiring women. At first I’d look at escorting agencies or backpages, but most were very shady. I’d expect one woman to arrive, but there was a bait and switch, and another less attractive woman arrived. Or I would try to scout a hotel bar, but it’s not really easy to distinguish escorts from ‘regular’ women.

Finally, fulfilled my ultimate fantasy with my wife

Hello everyone. I might have rephrased some of the stuff below just for the sake of making it more exciting. I apologize in advance if the post is long, but I’m just too thrilled to share this.

The wife (32) and I (30) have been married for almost 6 years. We even go beyond the university days, she is older than me but we managed to hook up together.

I just want to you to take a trip down to memory lane with me, I used to look at her group with envy. You know, cool guys, party girls, etc. While I was stuck with the lame ones. My cousin knew some of the guys she used to hang out with and introduced me to them. Since then, I became a part of their wild group. For a whole semester I didn’t get laid once, while on the other hand, they used to switch partners and sleep with new people like there’s no tomorrow.

A Sexy Science Experiment [MF] [prost] [sci-fi]

It was another cold, dreary night on the outskirts of Centerfield University. For most people, it was a perfect excuse to stay indoors, curl up on the touch, and binge watch whatever shows made them forget how cold they were. For Kelly “Roxy” Rindle, those nights had a different meaning. They usually meant she was going to be busy.

“Another storm, another city full of lonely men,” Kelly sighed as she entered a hotel less than an hour after sunset. “I need to start charging a higher premium.”

Making her way through a mostly-empty lobby, not even making eye-contact with the receptionist at the desk, she slipped into the nearest bathroom to fix her appearance. Wearing a heavy coat that covered a low-hanging halter top and skin-tight black pants, Kelly took a moment to recover from the blistering cold. She also had to re-apply her makeup, brush her hair, and apply her lip balm. As an independent escort, she had a brand to maintain.

“I should charge extra for the makeup I have to buy,” Kelly said to her reflection in the mirror. “I’m sure that discount store on campus knows girls like me need it.”

[MF] Getting the best blowjob I’ve ever had on vacation – A Tinder Tale [oral, attempt at sex, prostitution fetish, kind of sweet]

Everything below is true, except for some very slight details. Parts of it sound like complete bullshit, but I swear to god that they’re real.

I’ve always wanted to go to Brazil. It has an interesting history, a diverse population, fantastic music, and has everything you could ever want. And of course the women are beautiful. It sounds like bullshit when I say that the women aren’t one of the main reasons I wanted to go. But they’re a bonus :).

About me. I’m about 5’3″, in my mid-20s, losing my hair, am overweight, and have a perfect average 5.5″ cock. On an average week I might get three Tinder right swipes. In Brazil, with a tiny bit of Portuguese on my profile (basically just Foda [Jair Bolsonaro]([https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jair_Bolsonaro](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jair_Bolsonaro)) and a sentence about how long I was in a given city) and my exact English profile, I was getting tons of swipes. I’ve never experienced anything like it. By the end of three weeks I counted over 50 matches, excluding people whom I saw liked me but I wasn’t into, or I wasn’t in their city anymore.

[MF] Fucking for €4,50 at the Swimming Pool

I’ve been swimming in our town’s swimming pool for about a year now and once every few weeks I’d see this girl. I don’t know her name, she doesn’t know mine, but every time I’d see her, I tried mustering my courage and say something to her. I never could. This little piece here is when we finally spoke – and a few things more. Enjoy.

It was a Thursday night. The village was busy in some sort of festivity and the front desk to the swimming pool was, apart from an old man who manned that desk, deserted. The girl I told you about arrived on bike a moment before I did, nodded with a smile, and walked in. She was wearing tight jeans and a loose top. Her hair in a tail, one slender arm curled around her bag. She was fit and a head smaller then I was. Brown hair, round breasts poking out of her chest, and her ass pushed back as she walked and made it wiggle as she did. I smiled back and followed her in.