Wife Archives — Page 1738 of 1794 — NSFW story

Watching netflix while wife goes to town [m/f]

Throwaway for obvious reasons

Backstory: We have been married for almost 4 years already, and known each other for other 2. When we meet, both were quite inexperienced in the sex department, learning with each other while our relationship keeps on growing more and more. She is not a big fan of tacking my dick on her mouth, she even hates precum, trying to clean it every now and then whenever she notices there's some, if I ever get head without me asking for it, means I did something right, which makes what I'm about to tell you more amazing (swallow is a no no for her).

Just so you know, I'm not well endowed, pretty sure I'm average with a 5.4" with around 4" of girth at the base. She says its perfect, loves to ride it.

On to the story

It was sunday, we had spent the afternoon watching netflix and chilling…. really watching netflix and chilling, trying to get around all the shows on time for the new seasons to start or that already started (Gotham, Arrow, Flash, Walking Dead, etc) Read more »

My wife was pregnant, and she needed my dick. [M/F]

I still remember exactly where I was when she told me. Living room couch, playing some video game (which one, I can’t remember). 2:30 pm, on a Saturday. The bathroom was behind me and to the left, so that if I craned my neck and looked, I could see the door from where I was sitting.

Emma was in there. She didn’t tell me that she was taking a pregnancy test. We had been married for a few years at that point.

I heard her fumble with the doorknob before the door pulled back quickly. So quickly that it startled me.

“Will, I’m pregnant.” She didn’t scream it, but it was said forcefully. Excitedly. The grin on her face was spreading.

“No…fucking…shit,” was all I could offer, staring at the result. Her smile beamed from her face, bright and cheerful. It was so big that I started smiling too. Read more »

You[m17-23] don’t quit Crazy[f17-23]. Crazy has to quit YOU.

First of all, there is one simple rule for Dating Crazy: You don't quit Crazy. Crazy quits You!
I dated Crazy (her real name was Lacey, but the last few years I've always refered to "the crazy ex-girlfriend" or just "Crazy"). She was way way on the wrong side of the Vicky Mendoza Diagonal. I've seen her deliberately miss spotting another cheerleader doing a fall-back from a high stunt simply because the other cheerleader had been #1 on a "rank-all-the-cheerleaders-by-who-is-hottest" poll that went around school. Crazy was #3. #1 ended up in the hospital with a sub-cranial bleed. Crazy waited four years until #2 got married, and then slept with #2's husband while #2 was pregnant and then "accidentally" got caught blowing him in the half-painted nursery. Crazy for #1!
No denying that Crazy was hot, though. Otherwise, why would I ever have put up with her? She was an "all inputs" girl, taking it all the way down her throat as often and as enthusiastically as she took it all the way up her ass. Road head? Mandatory. Fucking while staying at her parents house? Better be prepared for some awkward breakfasts because nobody's going to bring up the subject of who was screaming "fuck me!" at 2AM last night even though everybody knows who was screaming "fuck me!" at 2AM last night. Public sex? Risky sex? Damn straight. Three-ways? "I'd like you to meet Heather, my friend from French 101." Crazy was a ball-sucker extraordinaire. She could make you cum from it. I've never met anyone else who could make a man cum from sucking his balls. I don't think I spent a weekend with Crazy where I didn't cum at least five times- and five would have been a LOW number. I once calculated how much of my cum Crazy had swallowed in the six years we dated- it was well over a gallon, and there wasn't a day when she didn't tell me she wanted more.
Two of my favorite stories about Crazy are the time when I came back from a meeting to set up my internship. We were both juniors. It was January. My birthday was in a couple of days. We'd been apart for a whole week. For Crazy, this was a "situation." Something had to be done. Something big.
When I got to the airport, she was dressed in a trench coat, holding a mylar balloon with "Happy Birthday, #1 Boyfiend" on it. We slogged out into the frigid Nebraska slush to where her car was parked. Despite the nearly empty lot, it was parked far from the terminal. We trudged over, balloon and luggage in tow.
When we got there, Crazy tapped me on the shoulder as I was loading the stuff into the trunk. I turned around to see her unbutton the trench coat and drop it to the ground. Underneath, she was bare-ass naked. I think it was like -5F at the time. Her nipples could have cut steel. She squatted down, took my cock out, and gave me a few quick sucks before yelling "holy fuck! it's cold out here! get in the car!"
Then instead of getting dressed, she threw her coat in the TRUNK of the car and climbed in the driver's seat.
The parking lot attendant got a nice long look at Crazy's stiff nipples and smooth-shaven pussy that night. I'm 100% sure his wife got the fuck of her life that night.
I came twice during the drive home. When Crazy decides you need to cum again, you cum again. She doesn't stop, not even to swallow your first load. It hurts like hell at first, but watching her gulp down two full loads of cum (sometimes even three) is worth it. The first load gets worked up into a kind of froth. You'd think it would act like extra lubricant, but it doesn't. It sort of makes the inside of her mouth and throat a little sticky. Doesn't stop her, though. Post-orgasm torture, some people call it. Maybe for a minute or two, but after that it's a damn fine way to drive home.
The rest of that night was standard Crazy. We fucked. She took it up the ass, several times. She started crying about how everybody hates her, how all of her friends are bitches, how I didn't call on Tuesday and she was sure it was become I was out screwing some skank, how if I didn't get it up NOW I'd never get another blowjob from her in my life. You know, standard Crazy. It was a valid threat- blowjobs were the only time I had five straight minutes without Crazy sounding, well, Crazy.
The other time was a little while after Crazy came in #3 in the "hottest cheerleader" poll. We were driving around looking for a gas station we'd heard would sell beer to under-21's if you flashed titty at the register operator. Crazy flashed like a dozen gas station attendants and got nothing but bug-eyed stares. So fuck it, we were just going to drive around while Crazy rambled on about how much she hated gas station attentandts and fuck them for not giving her beer. Best damn tits in Nebraska should get beer just for being the best damn tits in Nebraska (to which I voiced my strongest agreement, in an effort to ensure continued access to the best damn tits in Nebraska).
Then Crazy yells "STOP THE FUCKING CAR!"
I screech on the brakes and look for whatever had been about to kill us. Zilch. Not another car in sight. All I see is a strip club with…
Oh. Amateur Night Competition. At a strip club. Should be right up Crazy's alley. And having been right up Crazy's alley, I could tell it would be a hell of a ride.
So I turned into the parking lot and find a spot. Crazy was already in the back seat divesting herself of panties and bra. A few minutes and a couple of waivers of liability later, we're in the strip club doing shots with other "contestants." Turns out the other contestants weren't amateurs. They were just strippers from other clubs. Crazy's never been on a stripper pole in her life, so she's getting real nervous as contestant after contestant gyrates and swings like pros. Which they are. But Crazy's got one thing they don't have: She's underage and doesn't give a fuck. That's two things, actually. Oh, and she's way hotter than any of the "girls" who've gone on before. Which would be three things, but it's pretty dim in there so you can't honestly see how skanky some of them are.
So Crazy's turn finally comes, and she gets up on stage. She's supposed to do a two-song set, tittys out on the first set, bare-ass on the second. No self-touching, no touching by patrons, and a bunch of other rules. Scoring is by how many $1 bills get thrown on stage. Crazy yells up to the DJ. "Fuck it!" she says. "Turn up the fucking lights, and I don't need any fucking music!" and then she strips right off. Bare-ass naked with the house lights full on. Then she starts fingering herself and rubbing her clit, right in front of God and sixty drunken Nebraskan rednecks. All hell breaks loose. Crazy get practically covered with cash. The house mom storms out about three minutes into this. Crazy walks out of the club, disqualified but clearly the undisputed winner, butt-naked and clutching handfuls of cash. I follow, carrying her purse, shoes, and dress. Fucks given: zero. Sex that night: fucking insane. (epilogue to this story: Crazy went back the next night, spit in the house mom's face, and got physically ejected by bouncers while I tried to negotiate a night without police reports.)
Crazy never changed the entire time I dated her. Marriage was out of the question. I was willing to spend six years in mortal terror, but a lifetime? Not even a consideration. But it really wasn't my choice. I tried to break up with Crazy a couple of times. Never a good idea. I once made it an entire weekend- and then asked her to take me back because I had no idea how a butcher knife got embedded in the bed next to me. I never even woke up. Never told her it was because I was afraid she's slit my throat, either. I just called back and said "Baby, I was soooo wrong. Can you forgive me?" The next time I tried, she just looked at me and said "are you stupid or just forgetful?" I went with stupid. Worked just fine.
It all ended one day when Crazy and I got home from Wal-Mart and found that the check-out clerk had failed to credit Crazy $1.45 for a discounted item. Wal-Mart was a twenty mile drive from our apartment, but fuck you if you think you can short Crazy $1.45 and get away with it. She screamed about how she was going to rape kill that checkout clerk until her vagina bled into her asshole and she'd poop through her pussy. And that was some of the milder stuff.
If you're wondering why I went along with this, it was mostly for safety's sake. I followed Crazy to these things in the hopes that I could at least contain the damage. My job was to keep sharp edges and blunt objects out of Crazy's reach and maintain a keen eye on the horizon so we could get out of there before the cops showed up. This time, I was successful on the first objective but not so much on the second. Crazy blazed into that Wal-Mart like an avenging angel, rage-bound to do as much psychological damage to that checkout clerk as possible, hopefully make her cry and maybe even drive her to suicide. It's good to have goals in life.
Unfortunately, local cops were already there dealing with something else (I have no idea what). Neither of us noticed them until it was too late. About the fifth incoherent screamfest and seventeeth death threat, the checkout clerk pushed a panic button and Crazy found herself on the business end of a can of pepper spray. The list of charges was impressive, as was the sight of Crazy being carried out of the store on the shoulder of a 6'4" oxen-huge black cop.
Miraculously, Crazy beat the rap. Being insanely hot and having a rich daddy go a long ways towards obtaining justice. The charges were dropped, and the closest she got to punishment was a letter from Wal-Mart telling to stay out of every damn store they had, or would have, in the fucking entire universe. Not in those exact words, but the implication was clear.
I never got to see any of that because Crazy dumped me the next day after getting arrested. It seems that my failure to wade in and fight four very large and very armed cops for her was unacceptable. Note that I was not dumped for failing to talk her out of driving twenty miles to beat the fuck out some register drone, nor did I get any credit for taking away her "self defense club" (a spiked monstrosity that looks like something that Bowser would use to peg his boyfriend while complaining about "that bitch Princess Peach.") Nope. I was either gay or a coward or both because I didn't pimp slap a cop.
Oh, there was lots of post-breakup sex. The thing is, Crazy never really quits you- Crazy just shows up at 2AM for drunken anal sex because she knows you're engaged and wants to fuck it up for you. Which works because you're never going to date anyone half as hot as Crazy, and she knows it. You're fucked for life because nobody- and I mean NOBODY- does a single sexual act (oral, anal, doggie, missionary, in a chair, up against the wall, etc.) as good as she does. Most days, you're just happy to not be afraid anymore. But if Crazy calls, you're like "uh, Honey, there's something I have to take care of down at the office," and fuck you you're cheating on your wife & kids and you KNOW Crazy's got it all on camera in case you ever try to say "no" later on.
Crazy got married a couple of years back. She broke up cheerleader #1's family and married the guy. Three kids without a dad and a wife now a single mom just because some assholes in our high school ranked her above Crazy. It wasn't even her FAULT! None of the cheerleaders knew it was going on at the time. But fuck you if you get picked before Crazy. As far as I've heard, #1's ex and Crazy are still together. She called me the night of the wedding, sobbing hysterically about how she still loved me, and that I'll always be the love of her life, and that she doesn't want me to ever be out of her life. It was like being on the other end of the conversation that Sharon Stone has in the movie Casino, only with fewer mobsters. I hope. Anyway aside from one other time where she texted me while her new husband was fucking her in the ass (at least that's what she said was happening) and blaming me for "abandoning her," I haven't heard from her since.
So with luck, Crazy's finally quit me.
I've been dating a much calmer girl for a while. Things are going great, although it must kind of suck having someone like you because you're NOT particularly hot or sexy. Who knew that the lack of fear is an aphrodisiac?

No sex, but I can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday (47M+19F)

I have a nephew who is 19 years old. I've known him since he was about 7 (he's on my wife's side). He is good friends with a family that his dad is connected to in various ways. One of the members of that family is Valerie, who is now also 19. I met her many years ago when she was little. She was always a really nice kid and I enjoyed spending time with her. Very polite and fun.

Anyway, I would see her periodically over the years, and it was cool to watch her grow up. As she got older, she really developed into a very pretty girl. For whatever reason, the two of us kind of connected. Obviously not in an inappropriate way, but as she got older there were a few times where it just felt awkward, for lack of a better word. She was a kid who seemed to have a thing for me, and I was 30 years older than her.

Some time went by and I didn't see her at all for a number of years. There was a divorce and as a result we just didn't spend time with her or her family. She lived on the other side of the country, so other than seeing her on Facebook, there was no contact. Until yesterday. Read more »

10 years together and the sex still rocks (M/F)

I know, I know, a lot of the stories on here are “hot” stories about hookups, fantasies come true, and other “naughty” deeds, but I’ve been married for almost 10 years, and I just wanted to share a story that–hopefully–can show that married sex can still rock your world.

So my wife and I have been together for nine years. We married relatively young, and so are both just now in our early 30s. We’ve had two kids, bought a house, basically hit all the major adult milestones.

About my wife–I really lucked into it. When we met in college, I’ll be honest, she was kind of nerdy (wore Batman shirts and glasses), but she knew how to have fun, and her personality could be really loud and she never took shit from anyone. And I loved it. She was unassumingly quite hot. She usually hid it under rather baggy clothing, and never really got dressed up, so I feel like a lot of people missed out on it.

She’s one of those women that really matures with age. It’s corny to say it, but as she’s gotten older, she’s gotten even hotter. I’ll straight up say it, she’s probably out of my league, but she loves me and our marriage is outstanding. This is basically the proof that nice guys do (sometimes) win. Read more »

My(31) second date with my FWB(35)

The Second Date

I was sitting in a hotel room alone. Waiting. Knots in my stomach and self-doubt running rampant. "Will she show up?" The knock at the door didn't didn't make me feel better. I open the door and there she is. She greets me with a "Hey" and a hug and kiss.

Even though we've already fucked once, I'm still nervous. So we sit on opposite beds and make small talk, our travel blah blah blah. She can tell that I am nervous again, I'm sure. Earlier in the week I mentioned taking a shower and she was going to join me. She asks "Are you taking a shower?" "Umm, maybe later…". "Ok, i'm going to go freshen up". She heads to the bathroom and I'm feeling ill, this is actually happening. For some reason I'm not counting last week, this is the first real time i'm going to be having sex with someone who isn't my wife. The last message from my wife is simply "Have fun, I love you". Read more »

The man I’ll never have returns…

I got bold and changed my look last weekend. I cut my hair short, learned how to apply that thick cat-eye liner and bold lipstick. I decided to wear something attention-catching for Monday morning. I knew you’d be here; you’re always here. I chose a respectable-enough dress, tight to get attention while not revealing too much skin, and my best pair of black leather heels. I came in before you and got settled in my office, appearing to be busy at work as you walked through the door. I was merely busy thinking of your reaction. I waited patiently in my office for you to come around.

I said hello to my boss, and hi to everyone else who walked by my open door, but you didn’t come by. I had to get my real work started, so I went to find my boss and chat about what she needed for the meeting. On my way back to the room to deliver her reports, you were exiting and saw me in the hallway. I saw your glance start at my high-heeled feet and stop dead. You kept your eyes to the floor and practically burned a hole in the carpet as we passed. “Hey…” you said quietly as you pressed close to the opposite wall. “Hi,” I said with a smirk on my face. Read more »

Rebirth

I remember the day like it was yesterday. Not hard to do when it actually signifies the rebirth of one’s life, or more specifically, the removal of the exoskeleton that society adorns us with, to reveal the true self beneath. We were at a party. My wife and I. Boring, typical business-social gathering that couples have to occasionally navigate when one or both are part of the corporate world. I had wandered out onto the lanai to catch some air while my wife chatted with some associates inside. That was my stated purpose. I also had noticed a 40-something woman with dark, silky hair, professionally dressed, who seemed to be alone but seemed to know everybody. Something about her demeanor had intrigued me, and I was hoping to at least say hello. She was out there as well. We struck up a conversation. Idle chat about the weather, the economy, the typical bullshit that people throw out at these parties to keep their guard up. I told her I was there as a companion to my wife. She said she had some friends who had invited her, with the intention of making some new business contacts. I asked her what her business was. “I help couples,” she said. “I show them how to develop their relationship so that it is truly beneficial to both parties.” She was curiously vague, but her voice, the way she looked at me—into me—drew me in. “So you’re a therapist?” I asked. “No, dear, more like a teacher.” Dear? Where did that come from? Certainly not appropriate for a venue like this, but the word drove straight through me like a warm, liquid arrow and penetrated my spine. Her eyes flashed with a look of acknowledgement. “I find couples like you and your wife, boys like you, and I teach them how to live the life they were meant to live. I noticed you two as soon as you arrived, and knew that you were my next project.” I glanced over at my wife, still engaged in her conversation. My face flushed, the heat rose under my collar. I looked back at her, and my eyes met hers. She had a slight smile on her face. Serene, knowing. Suddenly I felt naked. Exposed. My heart raced. “I’ve watched you two for a bit now, and I’m pretty sure I can help you. You’ve been very attentive to your wife this evening, fetching her drinks, standing by her side. It’s clear you want to be there for her. She, on the other hand, doesn’t yet appreciate the level of service that you’re capable of providing. That’s where I come in. I will show her how fulfilling her marriage can really be.” “Will?” I though. Pretty confident for a perfect stranger. Yet, my racing heart betrayed me, and somehow I knew she was right. She will. I tried to maintain my air of casual confidence. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I asked. “Now there you go,” she said. That’s no way to talk to a superior woman, and you know it. You’re all the same. Little boys pushing the envelope, trying to see what you can get away with.” I looked down, totally caught off guard. I wanted to be sassy, flirty, clever. My arsenal was completely empty. “You will never talk back like that to your superiors,” she said. There was that word again. Will. “You’re looking at my feet now, aren’t you?” I was caught dead to rights. Her feet were almost mesmerizing. Strappy heels, perfectly pedicured toes discreetly peeking out the tips. I couldn’t resist, and this was the perfect opportunity for her to call me out for my retort. “That’s the first thing a proper husband should look at when he greets his wife. She decides when he can look up and engage with her.” What the fuck was going on in my head? I couldn’t look away. And my cock, in spite of my nervous discomfort, was growing. “Now, normally, you would never kneel down in a public place and worship anyone’s feet but your wife’s, as that would be totally disrespectful. But in this case, I think it would be the most appropriate way to get her attention so that I may have a word with her.” She slid her left foot slowly towards me, until her foot was pointed at me, while still firmly planted on the floor. “Go ahead,” she said. “You know you want to. You know you need to.”

Honeymoon sex with my new wife. [M/F]

Long time reader, first time poster, yaddayadda. Sorry this is so long, didn't want to leave anything important out. This has always been one of my favorite subs, and I thought it would be fun to contribute, as I don't really have an outlet for this stuff in my daily life. This story, and any others that follow, deal with only two people–my wife and I. We're each other's first and only. Advantages, disadvantages, sure–but we've definitely had our share of hot moments, and I thought it might be fun to share some of them. We'll see where it goes.

For backstory/setting, Emma is tall with perfect, soft blond hair, pale skin, and C cups. She is a tad on the overweight side, but it’s never affected my love for her. Her ass is pillowy heaven. As for me, I’m fairly tall also, and I’m also a little heavier than I should be. Emma has always told me that she likes my dark blond hair, though, and my broad shoulders. Read more »