Ugh, people keep DMing me about politics. Like, I'm running for office or something. Look, I do PORN, I don't write briefs on foreign policy. I don't get it. I post a video of me ramming a butt plug up my ass while I fire up the vibrator on my clit, and somebody will DM me, "What do you think about the tariffs?" Oh...I don't know. I'm too busy pounding my clit with a nuclear-powered vibrator and moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors to care about tariffs. I probably will when my vibrator breaks, and it eventually will; they always do, and it will cost $1k to replace it because of the tariffs. I doubt it, but it's possible, I guess. The only debate I care about is whether or not I can find a guy with a 15-inch dick.
Why are there wet spots in these pics? I was reminded of when a pornstar friend of mine called giving a blowjob in a car a "Sardine Can Slurpfest. I admit, it's always been a favorite of mine...the "Sardine Can Slurpfest. If they made a video of me doing it, I picture myself crammed in a shitty sedan that belongs to a married man, knees smacking the glovebox, sucking cock like it's an Olympic sport. Gagging so loud it sounds like a dying walrus, spit flying, then—BAM—a gallon of jizz erupts. Half, I swallow the rest, splattering the seats. It makes me smile, knowing the car will smell like a cum-soaked gym sock forever. The worst part about this whole post...It made me wet thinking about it as you can see in the pictures.
Side note: One time, I rented a car in LA, and I let this black guy fuck me stupid in it. He pumped a super-sized load in my asshole, and all of it leaked out onto the driver's seat. I always thought about the next person renting it, wondering why the seats are so crunchy. If they only knew it was a jizz swamp a few days earlier.
If you're posting hardcore porn—spreading your legs, showing your pussy getting pounded, or sucking cock on camera—you're sending a clear message: "I'm all about sex." That's your choice, and it's badass. I love it. But then you act shocked when guys send dick pics. You're sharing videos of your tits bouncing, cum pouring out of your asshole, and jizz dripping off your face. That's not subtle—it's raw, sexual, and in-your-face. Guys watching aren't thinking about what an art form your work is. They are jerking off, and some believe, because you proclaimed loudly in your posts how much you loved a dick pumping cum in your asshole, "She's into this. I'll show her my cock." It's not creepy—it's them joining the vibe you created. If you're cool with cocks in your videos, why's a pic in your DMs a big deal? You're a porn star, porn chick, content creator, whatever, not a victim. Own the game, expect the splashback, and move on. Complaining about dick pics when you're flaunting every inch of your body is just weak and annoying. Plus, it screams, "I'm a fraud!" if a picture of a dick sets you off.
My husbands dick turned into a sperm foutain when I told him Jake and I were now officially a couple. Truly kinky bastard. Both of us.
And, at the same time, NJ-Tony asked me this question. "Love the tits clit muscles but this shit you do to your husband is to much Im out. No woman who loves her man would treat him bad like that. Why do you even stay married?"
Truthfully, I've been wrestling with why I've let my husband slip into this role of a casual friend, someone I share a home with but don't give my body or deepest feelings to anymore. Key word. It's a role. It is the part he plays in our admittedly whacked sexual kink which has turned into a lifestyle. Look, I never intended to take things this far, and I don't blame myself—not entirely. He started this early on before we got married. He was the one who brought up cuckolding, his eyes lighting up when he talked about me being with other men. He nudged me into it, and it didn't take much because I was already a massive fan of it. I stepped away from it for many years. Again, admittedly, it ruined two marriages. But Scott was unfazed and pushed on, and like a drug, once I tasted it again, I was hooked harder than I have ever been. I'm addicted to the feeling of another man's cock—in my hand, in my mouth, inside me. It's a rush that hits me like a train. Again, Scott begged me for this life, so it's also not my fault I caught feelings and developed deep connections with other men, feelings that overtake what I feel for my husband now. Scott knew this was a risk, but pushed for it anyway. But I know these emotions, these intense desires, aren't the whole truth—they're a response to this kink, this addiction that's taken over my life.
When I'm with another man, everything else fades away. Their hands on me make me feel alive, wanted in a way that feels electric. I love guiding them inside me, feeling that stretch, that perfect fullness, the way it makes me beg for more. I lose myself when their cock hits just right, making me moan their name like it's all I know. But it's not just the physical—it's the emotional pull. The way they look at me like I'm their world, the way they make me laugh, the way I feel so free with them. I didn't plan to let those feelings grow so big, overshadow what I have with my husband, but they did. I'm caught up in these men, and I love them more than him in those moments. Yet, I know it's not real—not entirely. It's this kink twisting me, making me want someone else more, but somehow, it only makes me love my husband deeper because he's in this with me, sharing this addiction.
Telling my husband about it is where it gets intense, and me telling you makes some people uncomfortable. I don't hold back—I lay it all out. I describe how another man kissed me, their tongue teasing mine, making me dizzy. I tell him how they kissed down my body, sucking and nibbling, making me squirm. I talk about how I opened my legs for them, how their cock felt so perfect, how I came so hard I couldn't think straight. And I go deeper—I tell him how I feel about these men, how I think about them constantly, how I love them in this overwhelming way that feels bigger than what I feel for him. I see it hit him, the way his face shifts, and it's a powerful rush. Don't get me wrong, It's not about hurting him. It's about this power, this thrill of being so raw. The most exhilarating yet perplexing part for me and other people is when I'm telling him I love another man more than him, I see him get hard. His erection is right there, undeniable, and it's so confusing for both of us, but so exciting. My words, my truth about choosing someone else over him, are turning him on, and it sends this jolt through me. It's like I'm breaking him and lifting him up all at once, and it messes with my head in the best way.
I get that these feelings, this lifestyle, it's not the whole picture. It's like I'm caught in this haze where I want another man more than my husband, where I feel these crazy, deep emotions for them, but it's all tied to this kink. It's not reality—it's my addiction playing tricks on me. But that confusion, that intensity, it's what makes this so thrilling. And the fact that my husband is right there with me, letting me chase this, getting hard when I tell him I love someone else, makes me love him more. Not less, but more. Because he's part of this, he's letting me live this out, which binds us in an unbreakable way I can't explain. I'm addicted, and it's messy, but it's ours, and I'm not sorry for it. My husband's hard dick seems to feel the same way.
Ever just see some tits and instantly get that craving to pump your dick in a hole? I'm talking about a picture or video that just sets you off. And suddenly, your head is stuck on fucking. I'm not talking about making love. I'm talking about fucking. It happens to me all the time. I'm a woman, so it probably isn't the same experience for you, but I get it—sometimes I see a guy, and all I can think about is holding his cock in my hand, feeling the weight of it, how hard it is when I stroke it slowly. Probably just like you want to taste a pussy, I get that need to taste a dick, slide it into my mouth, feel it push deep until my throat's tight. But more times than not, it makes me crave having it inside me. It's like I can feel it sliding inside of me, filling me up, moving things around in a way that turns my legs into rubber. I want to feel it deep, rearranging my insides with every pump. I want to feel him empty his balls inside of me, make me cum so hard my brain turns off. All of this obsession to get fucked started by a silly pic or video I saw on my phone. Crazy how I can get that worked up over something like that.
I'm sure it happens to men as well. It has to. I know damn well I can hijack a man's brain, and all you can think about is slipping your cock into me. That first push, my pussy gripping you as you slide in, feeling me stretch around you, legs pulling you deeper. I always wonder if guys get that rush, knowing you're moving things around inside me, hitting spots that make me forget how to breathe. I don't know, maybe it's just me, and I'm the odd one out….But I doubt it seriously! Let me know!
I keep thinking about lying back on the hood of some studs Jeep, with my legs spread wide and my skirt bunched up around my hips. I would love people to see me like this—strangers, passersby, anybody who happens to look. I want their eyes on me as I let some guy with a thick cock, just fuck me senseless right there in the open. Not my husband, Scott. It can't be him. He's just a guy I live with now, someone I share a house with, like a friend I don't care much about. I don't let him touch me anymore. His sperm doesn't get to fill me. That's only for other men, men who can make my body sing, men who can feed my obsessions that Scott can't. Letting Scott inside me would ruin everything, would break this perfect marriage I have set up where he's nothing to me, and I'm free to chase what I want.
These things I think about become a need. Right now, I'm obsessed with the thought of a big, hard cock pushing into me, stretching my pussy so wide it feels like it's rearranging my insides. I can feel it right now in my head before it ever would happen—every inch sliding in, deep it's like it's moving my guts, shifting everything to make space for it. It's not just the stretch. It's the way it changes me like my body's being reshaped, molded to fit this guy's dick. I picture a stranger's cock, so thick it makes my mouth water, fucking me slow at first, then harder, until I'm a cummy mess. I want it to hurt just enough to make me feel alive, to make me feel every thrust like it's rewriting who I am.
And so, you know, the feeling of a man's cock pumping cum into my hole—I live for that. It's like the ultimate high. When he's buried deep, and I feel that hot rush, that flood of sperm filling me up, it's like my body's drinking it in, claiming it. It's not just physical—it's mental, too. Knowing it's not Scott's, knowing it's some other guy's cum marking me, it sends me over the edge. I crave it, that moment when he unloads, when my pussy's stretched full of him when I'm his in a way I'll never be Scott's. My body tells my mind that I was born for this, and I will never get enough.
How I use this to keep Scott down makes it even hotter. He's my husband, sure, but because I have turned this fantasy into a reality, he's nothing in my bed or body. I get wet saying this, but I've taken my body from Scott and given it to other men, and the thought of him knowing it, feeling it, it's such a fantastic turn-on. I love how emasculating it is for him to be sidelined, to know I'm out here spreading my legs for other men, letting them fuck me raw, letting them pump their cum into me while he gets nothing. It's humiliating for him, knowing his wife's pussy is off-limits, reserved for his friends, men who he knows, and even strangers who can make me scream, who can rearrange my insides with their cocks. I picture him sitting at home, maybe hearing me come back late, smelling like sex, and he knows he can't touch me. He's reduced to this guy who pays half the bills, who I smile at politely while I'm out getting fucked on a Jeep hood, my body dripping with another man's sperm. That power, that control—it makes my pussy throb just thinking about it. It's not about hurting him, though I'm sure it does in some ways. His shame boners would say otherwise. It's about owning myself and my desires, and every time I let another man fill me, I'm reminding Scott he's got no claim on me anymore. Letting other people watch me take a man's cock and see it stretch me wide while I make eye contact with them…it just takes it to an even further level for me. I want them to see me turned into a messy brain dead fuck toy simply by being pumped and left full of sperm by a fat dick. It's all I have been thinking about today…I guess it's who I am…who I want to be. Why fight it?
Yesterday was right up my alley and my box. A lot of mud, adrenaline, and sex with cum pumped in all the right places. I met up with Shane for a Jeep Week event. Jeep Week is huge here in Daytona. My pussy was looking forward to this day in a big way. The day before, I’d surprised Shane at his shop, and we’d had this hot-as-fuck kiss, his dick hard against his work pants, my pussy dripping through my shorts. So when I pulled up to his house, I was already hyped up to spread my legs for Shane and whatever else he had planned.
I pulled up in my Jeep, and there he was, standing outside, looking good. Half my age and a body that will make a girl's box wet just looking at it. I got wet just looking at him, my clit pulsing, and I knew we weren’t going to make it to the event without something happening. I hopped out, and he came right for me, laying a deep kiss on me, his hands all over my body, pulling me close and putting my hand on his rock hard cock, pressing through his jeans. That set my pussy on fire, and he knew it. His fingers slipped under my shorts, rubbing my hard clit, fingering my slick hole telling me he wanted to taste me. He took me inside, and we barely got the door shut before he was yanking my shorts down.
I sat on his couch, laid back, and spread my legs wide, my pussy dripping, pretty much begging for him. Shane dove in, head first, his mouth on me, licking and sucking my hole, working my clit until it was big and hard. I was so ready for him to fuck me, my body desperate for his cock. He stood up, jeans off, and his cock was rock-hard, thick, and perfect. He slid it into me, slow at first, and the way it felt—stretching my pussy, filling me up, inch by inch, until he was balls-deep—it was like my insides were shifting, pushing to the side to make room for his dick. I started bucking my hips, grinding against him, and told him to fuck me harder, faster. He did, pounding into me, his cock slamming deep so I could feel his balls slapping against my ass cheeks. He had me so wet I could feel my juices running down, coating his dick, dripping over his balls. It’s such a high getting that sloppy, soaking feeling, my pussy drenching his dick. He was inside me for less than a few minutes before I came so hard I forgot how to talk. A man half my age just fucked me stupid, making me his own personal jizz dump. Shane pumped me for another 5 minutes, giving me several more smaller orgasms before I felt his cock twitch, his balls tighten, and then that hot, silky flood of cum shooting deep inside me. God, I love that feeling—his load, his ball snot, pumping into my hole, filling me up. The second I felt it, I came again, my pussy spasming, milking every drop. Just something about a big load of cum blasting deep in me always makes me lose it.
We basically collapsed on the couch for a few minutes until we could catch our breath. That’s when I thought about my husband, sitting at home while I’m lying around with Shane’s sperm swimming around inside me, and I got that little electric jolt of pleasure thinking how perfect everything was. It inspired me to slide down and take Shane’s dick in my mouth and lick and kiss it clean. It started to grow again, but we had things to do.
We got ourselves together, hopped in Shane’s Jeep, and headed to the Jeep Week event. The four-wheeling was a blast—plowing through mud, bouncing over ruts, tires slinging dirt everywhere. We were laughing, yelling, covered in grime, and the whole time, my tits bouncing all around so that my nips kept slipping out, I didn’t try to hide them. I kept stealing glances at Shane’s body, his muscles flexing as he drove, his jeans still hugging that cock I could still feel inside me. His youthful, fit frame, all lean and hard, kept me turned on, my pussy still tingling from earlier. After the event, we returned to his place, both muddy and hyped. We stripped down and got in the shower together, the hot water pouring over us. His body looked even better wet, all sculpted and tight, and I couldn’t keep my hands off him. He fucked me again, right there in the shower, his cock sliding into my pussy, still hungry for dick. It was slower this time, but just as deep, every thrust making my insides shift, making me feel claimed. When he came, that warm rush of cum filling me up again, I was done for, I came so hard my legs buckled. We sat around, made out a bit, and then I had to get back home. I had things to get done. All in all, it was a good day!
Here's a quick little update before I head out with Shane for some fun, sexy jeep activities amongst other things 🍆💦😜 I will let you know all about my day. Enjoy yours 💋
So today, Scott had to run this errand for our neighbor, following him to the Jeep shop to give him a ride back. Right as he was about to head out the door, I was like, “Hold up, I’m coming with.” No way I’m missing this. Shane works at the shop, and I haven’t seen him in about a week or so. Anyway, I threw on my tiniest daisy dukes, ass cheeks basically hanging out, and a tube top with my nipples barely covered. Hopped in the truck before Scott could even blink. He looked at me, all pathetic, and was like, “Please don’t come.” Too bad for him, Shane’s way more important than he is. Scott should fucking know that by now.
We pull up to the shop, walk in, and the whole damn place freezes. Every mechanic and all the other emolyees, eyes locked on us. They all know I fuck the absolute shit out of Shane every chance I get, and they sure as hell know I’m married to Scott. The way they were staring, it’s gotta be pure agony for Scott, like a punch to the gut he can’t dodge. I’m eating it up, my pussy already tingling just from the vibe. Then I make it worse. I strut right through the “employees only” service door, leaving Scott and his buddy standing there like losers in the customer area. I head straight back to where Shane works, and fuck, the second he sees me, he doesn’t hold back. He grabs me, pulls me into this deep, sexy kiss, and I’m all in, tongue and all, not giving a shit who’s watching. Some of his coworkers are just standing there, eyes wide, as he holds my hands, pressing himself against me. Shane’s already rock-hard—dude gets a boner just from me being near him, kinda like Scott’s shame boners. It’s like their dicks can’t help it, no matter what’s going on in their heads. I fucking love that about both of them.
I’m standing there, Shane’s hands on me, and I’m just soaking in how much he wants me. We make plans for Saturday morning—gonna fuck his brains out, no question. We make out a bit more, his hands grazing my ass, and I’m so turned on I can barely stand it. Eventually, I peel myself away and head back to Scott and his friend, who’s probably got no clue why everyone’s staring at us like we’re a fucking circus. I know why, and it’s got me horny as hell. I try to sneak a peek at Scott’s crotch, wondering if he’s got one of those shame boners he can’t control, but he’s walking ahead of me, hopping in the truck quick before I can tell. Doesn’t matter. The whole scene—Shane’s hands, the stares, Scott stuck knowing he’s second best—it’s got me wet and throbbing, already counting down to Saturday when I’ll have Shane’s cock inside me again.
Today’s is dragging, and I’m pretty sure no dicks are going to be inside me, which is a bummer. I’m with Scott, my husband, and he’s dragging me to his parents’ anniversary party. I’m happy for them but my head’s somewhere else entirely. I know I’ll be standing there smiling at Scotts relatives as they make conversation, and the only thing I’ll be thinking about is Jake. It won’t be easy because the way my body lights up just thinking about him is insane.
Being around Scott’s family, with him right there next to me, acting all proud to have me on his arm, it’s this wild mental fuck. He knows I’m obsessed with Jake. He knows I’m standing there, chatting about some old wedding story, while my mind’s replaying how Jake’s cock feels sliding into me, like it was made for my pussy. Perfect fit, stretching me just right, hitting every spot that makes my eyes roll back. Scott’s got no say in it. Scott knows if he makes me choose it will be Jake. He just accepts it, and that alone makes my clit throb. It’s like, he’s stuck watching me mentally fuck another guy, and he’s still has to hold my hand and play the good husband. I wonder if Scott will have a shame boner. His dick always seems to defy his mind and emotion. Knowing that is a mental rush of power I can’t get enough of.
I’m going to be at the party, nodding along to somebody's story, but I'll be picturing Jake’s hands on me, gripping my hips, pulling me onto him so deep I can feel his dick touch my stomach. I’ll be wet just standing there, my juices just running down my thighs, and Scott will be clueless, or maybe he won’t, but he’s still stuck smiling for the family photo. I’ll keep glancing over at him, knowing he’s trying so hard to be enough for me, but my body’s screaming for Jake’s touch, his tongue, the way he makes me come so hard I forget my own name. It’s fucked up, but it’s such a turn-on, knowing Scott’s right there, surrounded by his family, while I’m lost in this other guy who owns every inch of me.
I'm touching myself, thinking about how I’ll laugh and play nice at the party, maybe even lean into Scott a little for show. But the whole time, I’m thinking about the way Jake looks at me, how he whispers dirty shit in my ear while pounding me, how I’d scream his name. Scott, well…he's part of the scenery, a good friend I sometimes think about when my mind isn't fucking Jake in every way possible. It’s the hottest, most twisted kind of foreplay, and I’m already counting down to when I can see Jake again and make all these thoughts real.
As some of you know who, for whatever reason, read my novels disguised as posts, I left Scott at home last night and went to Jake's place for the evening. Something that has now become a most nights thing. So much so it's not a big deal anymore, Scott knows where I'm going, understands his position in my life now, and neither of us makes a fuss about it.
Look, I'd like to give you a recap of some wild, out-of-this-world sex, but the night before last was different. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He put me on my back, and like a reflex, I spread my legs for him, and his cock slipped into my body and further claimed me as his own, giving me a mind-bending orgasm and successfully shoving Scott further back into the friend zone. Yes, the orgasm was amazing. With Jake, it always is. But, again, the sex was just our usual. I'm not saying it's getting boring. It's not. But I'm starting to find that we don't just fuck anymore. I don't know, it's kind of corny, but sex is now a different experience, and it's making it better each time. The best part of the night, the part that overpowered everything else, wasn’t my orgasm. It was when he came, and I felt his sperm flooding my body. It's hot, it's slick, and I can feel each of his ropes shooting deep inside me. It fills me up to the point it feels like it's pooling up between the head of his dick and my stomach. It's a mental thing as well. It feels like he's claiming it as his. Marking his property, and that turns me on. What really turns me on is, as in hits me very hard sexually, is knowing that I’m getting a part of Jake, a living part of him that leaves his balls and enters me. It's alive, this piece of him, swimming inside me, forcing me to merge with him, and that thought makes me feel very connected to him. It's like he's pumping a part of his life out of his dick into my guts, giving it to me. And oddly enough, that feeling was better than any orgasm I have ever had…this feeling of Jakes cum entering my body, making me his in a way nothing else could. It's funny the power a man's cock and cum has over me. It's also very exciting.
I keep thinking about how I wrapped my legs around him, trying to pull Jake, via his dick, inside of me as deep and as tight as I could when I knew he was going to cum. I locked him against me to keep him as deep in me as possible, and I squeezed his cock with my pussy, trying to get every drop of jizz his testicles had. Again, the sex was amazing, but the only part I'll remember is Jake's dick feeding my body his sperm via my pussy. I can't tell you why that fires me up so much. I don't care why. I just want that fire of feeling his cum inside of me always to be there.
Massage Envy emailed me asking if I have tried a facial yet. Too funny! You're asking if I've tried one. My face is a cum-soaked legend. It has been drenched in thousands of freshly brewed sperm loads—hot, thick, and blasted from hundreds of men's twitching testicles, which is the only kind of facial that counts. Your spa's goopy crap is brewed with who knows what chemicals, and, even worse, there is no way it could be edible! When I get my facials, the best part is scooping that warm, salty jizz off my cheeks and licking every drop off my fingers. I'm going to skip your version of a facial. I'm sticking to guzzling nature's creamiest brew, sucked fresh from a throbbing cockhead. Nothing beats getting the good stuff straight from the source!
I'm getting ready to spend the night with Jake, but first, I'm working Scott over in the most humiliating way I can, and it feels so good I'm sitting in my own juices telling you about it. Earlier today, I was with Jake, sucking him down like I couldn't get enough. And I can't. I love his taste and still had the taste of him on my tongue when I walked into the house to face Scott.
I sat Scott down with Scott on the couch, thinking about what I wanted to say. I know that Scott likes to think this is just a perverse sexual game I can't get enough of, but he's not sure I don't mean it, and I love keeping it that way—keeping him guessing, wondering how much I mean it when I say I love Jake more. I do love Jake, just not the way I love Scott, and that alone is a huge sexual turn-on for me, knowing I've got this deep, steady love for my husband, but Jake is right up there with him, not quite, but close. What really gets me going is reducing Scott to the friend zone, replacing him with Jake as my true lover, and watching him take it. It's hard to explain the satisfaction of knowing that I can fulfill Scott's sexual desires just by falling in love with another man, giving him exactly what he craves without even touching him. I stood over him, my skirt hiked up a little, my thighs still warm from being on my knees for Jake. "I've fallen in love with Jake," I said casually, like it was nothing, watching Scott's face go red. "I want him more than I ever wanted you, Scott—sexually, emotionally, everything. He's my true love now—you're just my friend." The look on his face—shock and defeat—gets me so wet, especially when I see his dick twitch in his pants, a shame boner he can't hide, turned on by the idea that I've replaced him with Jake in every way that matters.
I kept going, wanting to humiliate him, to make it sting so bad it was uncomfortable. And it was. I could feel the tension in the air when I said, "Jake was just a sexual thrill at first, but now he's the man I want, the man I love. He fucks my mouth so good, Scott—his dick fills my throat and shoots his cum down me in ways you can't. You're not my lover anymore—just the guy I used to be with, the friend I keep around." Scott's face burned, his eyes dropping, and I could see his dick getting harder, that shame boner making it so obvious how much this gets to him and that I was doing my part correctly. "Jake's taken your place," I told him, my voice sharp, cutting him down. "He's the one I want, the one I give myself to—my body, heart, everything. You're the friend who gets to hear about it and watch me love him." Every word came out perfect, making sure he knew I was pushing him further into the friend zone, making it clear Jake's my true love now, his shame boner tenting his pants, a humiliating reminder of how I've replaced him, how shameful it is that he loves hearing I want Jake more—and I love how I can make him feel such pain and pleasure by simply falling in love with Jake.
I wanted to drive it home before I left, so I said, "I've got Jake's cum in my belly right now," I said, licking my lips, letting him picture it, his wife sucking the sperm from another man's testicles and then masturbating in front of him because she loved it so much. I said, "He fucked my mouth so good, shot his sperm right down my throat, and I love him for it—love him in ways I'll never love you because you're just my friend." Saying that made my pussy leak so much it was starting to run down my thighs. I couldn't help it. Seeing Scott's face—shame all over him, his dick so hard it was pathetic, and I knew he might cum just from this. "Jake's my man now, and you're nothing but a friend to me, someone I used to fuck but never will again. Right on cue, his dick jerked in his pants, his face glazed over, and I saw it—wet spurts soaking through his pants, his cum leaking out without him even touching himself. His face turned bright red he was so embarrassed. He tried to walk away, but I made him sit there, emasculated, his shame boner betraying how much he gets off on the thought of me wanting Jake more, sexually and emotionally, while I fulfill his deepest desires simply by giving my love to another man.
It felt so good, so alive, to reduce Scott down like that, to tell him Jake's my true love while Jake's sperm was still warm in my belly, knowing Scott came from the shame of being friend zoned. The thrill of it, knowing I do love Jake, even if it's not the same way I love Scott, and using that to mess with Scott's head, watching him break under the humiliation, his dick cumming untouched because I've replaced him with Jake as my lover while keeping him guessing about how much I mean it, all while satisfying his sexual needs just by loving someone else. I left him there, a jizzy mess in his pants, and went into my bedroom to tell you all about it. And now, I'm heading out the door to spend the night with Jake, my pussy annoyingly desperate for dick from the high of it all. Better yet, I can still taste Jakes cum on my tongue, and it's driving me wild.
I walked into Jake's office building today, feeling that rush I always get when I'm there for one thing—getting his cock in my mouth. I knew how I looked, and I dressed for it. I was wearing a tight red shirt that clung to my body, my hard nipples poking right through the fabric, my big tits spilling out with tons of cleavage showing. My tight black skirt was short, hugging my ass, and my black heels, making my legs look long and ready for trouble. I had to walk past his secretary, this pain in the ass frumpy secretary who's made comments to Jake before about how I dress "inappropriate" for their office. I didn't care—I wasn't there for her approval. I was there to work Jake's sperm out of his balls, and knowing she could see me all dressed up to make his dick hard, got me so wet I could feel my pussy starting to flow. It's a massive turn-on, mentally, strutting past her like that, knowing she can't do a thing while I'm about to make her boss cum down my throat.
When I got to Jake's office, his eyes lit up the second he saw me, and how he looked at me made my heart race. He was on a conference call, sitting behind his desk, but the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing in the world that mattered—made me feel so fantastic like I was his and we belonged together. I'm sure Jake knows I can't help but return that same look at him. It's an indescribable feeling, having a man other than my husband want me like that, especially Jake, whom I have learned I have deep feelings for…making me forget I'm married. He muted his call quickly and told me he'd be a bit and sit and wait. I tried, I did, but after five minutes, I got bored, my pussy throbbing just thinking about his dick. I slid over to him and started rubbing his cock through his pants, feeling it get hard under my fingers. He tried to stop me, whispering, "Not now," but I could tell he didn't mean it—his dick was already straining, begging for me, and he couldn't help himself…nor could he stop me.
I unzipped him, pulled it out, and there it was—eight inches, stiff as a rock, thick and veiny, the head already dripping that pre-cum I like so much. I didn't waste time—I got on my knees, took his cock in my mouth. I say this in all honesty…I love the taste of him. It's a salty, musky flavor with a smell that makes my head spin. When his dick hits my tongue, it makes my pussy clench. I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting that pre-cum, then slid him deep, letting his shaft fill my mouth, stretching my lips as I sucked him down. His balls were heavy, hanging there, and I grabbed them, rolling them in my hand, feeling how full they were, ready to unload. I love the feel of his cock—smooth but hard, feeling his pulse against my tongue and his balls, perfect to hold, firm and round like they are full and dying for me to drain them. I was so turned on, my massive clit was rock-hard, throbbing, and I reached under my skirt, rubbing my clit, feeling how swollen it was, wet and slick as I kept sucking him.
Jake tried to make me stop—he was flustered on his call, having trouble finding his words as he tried to talk business, but I didn't care. I needed to feed on his sperm, needed to taste him, to have him fill me up. I kept eating his dick, bobbing my head, my lips tight around him, my tongue flicking the underside as I sucked harder, faster, my hand squeezing his balls. He couldn't hold back—I felt his cock twitch, his balls tighten, and then he was cumming, feeding me his load. It was hot thick, shooting into my mouth in heavy spurts, coating my tongue with that salty, creamy taste I crave. I swallowed it, feeling it slide down my throat, warm and thick, running into my belly like a fine lunch, the best meal I'd had in a week. I milked him for every drop, sucking until he was empty, his cum settling in my stomach, making me feel full, satisfied, but even more turned on than I was when I walked into his office.
I couldn't help myself. I needed to cum, and my pussy was dripping, so I spread my legs right there on Jake's office floor, hiked my skirt up, and fingered myself while he watched. I was so wet. My fingers slid right in, my massive clit throbbing as I rubbed it, my other hand pumping inside me, fucking myself hard, making my pussy make wet slurping noises while Jake's eyes stared at me the entire time. I could see his dick starting to get fat again, swelling in his pants, but he whispered he couldn't break away from the call. It didn't matter. I thought about how hot I looked on my knees, a married woman sucking another man's cock, and I came. It was a long, intense cum that took all I had not to scream. I could see Jake was nervous that I would. But I'm a good girlfriend…I stayed as quiet as possible and sat on the floor of his office, pussy leaking girl jizz, just trying to get my head back. He walked over and kissed me intensely, making sure I knew I was the woman he needed and saying he needed me to stay the night with him. I told him I could—I can't say no to him. He's my man now, has been for some time, and the way he wants me, the way his cock tastes, the way his sperm feels in my belly—it's everything I need, more than my husband could ever give me.
Here's a little video for you before I head out to meet Jake 😉 Let me know what you think of my outfit, is it conservative enough to visit him at work? I will let you know how it goes 😜
I enjoyed holding this guy's dick in my hand so much last night I can almost still feel it in my hand, and it's making my mouth water thinking about it. This is the dress I wore last night to the Ocean Deck. I had this 22-year-old guy who was part of the National Cheerleader tournament in Daytona Beach come up and introduce himself. He was from Tennessee, and sadly, I can't remember his name—but he was cute. He readily admitted he knew who I was, which probably meant he was also very aware that sex is my thing. We talked, and he tried so hard to win me over that I decided to empty this kid's balls. I ended up taking him out to my Jeep, and we started making out in the front seat, his hands all over me, my hands on his crotch, and I could feel his dick getting hard through his jeans. I didn't waste time—I unzipped him, pulled it out, and there it was, this thick, warm cock in my hand, stiff as a board and already jerking around for me.
I love holding a man's dick like that, wrapping my fingers around it, feeling it pulse as I start to jerk him off. There's something about it that gets me going—knowing I've got all the power, that I can make his balls tighten and his sperm shoot out just with my hand. It's the control, the way I can feel every twitch, every little jump as I stroke him, slow at first, then faster, my grip tight around his shaft. This guy's dick was nice—maybe seven inches, nice and thick, with a fat head that was already leaking pre-cum, lubing up my palm so I could work his dick. I could feel his balls drawing up under my fingers, heavy and full, ready to unload, and as shallow as it sounds, that's what I live for—making a man's dick pump sperm, watching it happen because of me. It's like I'm pulling his soul straight out of him, draining him out of his testicles with every tug, and it makes me feel so alive, so good, because I'm the one who owns his pleasure.
I never touched myself—no fingers on my clit, and other than my tits, I didn't let him touch me either. I didn't need it. The extreme satisfaction I get from making a stranger cum with just a handjob is insane. It's the mental rush—knowing I can take a guy I don't even know, get him so worked up that he's groaning, hips bucking, entirely under my control. I love the way it feels to push him over the edge, to see that moment when he can't hold back anymore when his dick starts jerking in my hand, and his sperm shoots out, hot and thick fresh from his balls, splattering everywhere. I'm smiling right now because last night, I had this guy moaning, his head back, saying stuff like, "Oh God, don't stop," while I jerked him faster, still using his precum oozing out to keep things slick, my other hand cupping his balls, feeling them tighten. When he came, it was like a fountain—his dick pumped hard, shooting long ropes of cum all over my hand, some hitting the dashboard, thick and sticky. I milked every drop out of him until he was jerking around, pushing my hand off his dick because his dick got super sensitive. I emptied this guy's entire being straight through his balls and out the head of his dick. It was perfect.
I didn't need to get off myself—the high I get from that is enough. It's the power, the way I can make a a guy less than half my age lose it, make his balls empty just because I decided to. I love knowing I did that, that I took this guy and made him cum so hard he couldn't think straight, all without him even touching me. He got kind of a shock when I wiped my cummy hand on his shirt, cleaned my fingers, and said, "Hope you enjoy your trip." Then I kissed the head of his dick and told him he needed to get his jeans pulled up because I had to go. He just nodded, still dazed, while I sat there watching him pull his pants up and get out of my Jeep, feeling alive, my pussy wet just from the thrill of it all. I got that incredible mental high without booze or drugs. It makes me feel so perfect. It's why I do it. Making a man's dick pump sperm is the best kind of rush I know.
People keep asking how Scott, my husband, can stand being with me when I cheat on him all the time, out in the open. I don’t know if you’d get it. Sometimes I don’t even get it myself. But Scott is wired for this. He lives for me to make him feel like nothing, to humiliate him, and those shame boners he gets prove he’s mine to break. I love giving him what he needs—it’s like a messed-up miracle that I found someone like him. He’s taken my sex life to a whole new level just by being this way. Outside, Scott looks solid—tall, strong, the kind of guy everyone respects. But the second he walks through our door, he shrinks into this little toy I get to mess with, a puppet I can twist until he’s nothing. He wants it, though—craves it. I see it in his eyes, that same hungry look I get from other guys right before they shove their dick in my mouth, except Scott’s need is different.
He needs me to come home smelling like another guy, my pussy or ass still wet and leaking with someone else’s cum. He needs me to spread my legs in front of him, let him see the dripping mess between my thighs, and hear me say, “Look what a real man did to your wife, you useless cuck.” His face red, shame written all over it, but his dick—it’s hard, twitching, a shame boner he can’t stop. It’s like it’s begging for me to keep going, to dig in deeper. I don’t let him touch it—he doesn’t need to. The humiliation does it for him.
The other night, I was getting ready for Jake—he’s my obsession now. Plus, Jake has me hooked on his perfect dick. I let Scott have his sad little role in my relationship with Jake. I stripped naked, told him to do the same, and laid on the bed, legs spread wide, my pussy right there for him to see. I handed him the razor and said, “Shave me—Jake likes it smooth when he fucks me.” Scott knelt between my thighs, staring at my pussy, already wet, thinking of how my husband was preparing me for another man. He shaved me carefully, trimming my pubic hair, his fingers brushing my lips here and there like he couldn’t help it. I could see his dick standing straight up, leaking already, and I loved it—loved knowing how low he’d sunk, getting me ready for the guy who’s taken his place.
I couldn’t stop myself—I started talking about Jake. “He’s so good, Scott. The way he slides into me, so deep, so perfect—it’s like my pussy was made for him.” Scott stopped for a second, but he kept going, shaving me bare while I kept digging into him. I wanted to get to him, so I said, “I’ve fallen for him. He’s not just a fuck—I think I might be in love with him.” That’s when it happened. Scott froze, got this dazed look on his face, and I felt it—hot, wet spurts hitting my leg. His cum splattered on my thigh, his dick jerking, shooting sperm without him even touching it. It was amazing, he pumped his cum, kneeling between my legs, just from hearing I might love Jake—his shame boner going off because I’d found his trigger, telling him another man owns me in ways he never can. If he’d touched my clit right then, I would’ve lost it myself—but I don’t let him see that. I like it this way.
You might not get it, but we’re a team. Scott wants me to make him feel like nothing, to show off how Jake’s cum fills my holes, how my pussy gets wet for a better man. I love to give that to him. Every time I humiliate him, telling him he’s nothing compared to Jake, his dick twitches, leaking cum, and oddly enough, it makes our relationship even stronger. He can’t control those shame boners—and I can’t control it that I am addicted to giving them to him. I love the way they pop up the second I start in on him. After he came on my leg, he looked at me with that goofy, post-cum stare, and I laughed, smearing his sad little load with my finger. “Clean it up,” I said, and he did, licking his own cum off my skin while I told him Jake’s getting me tonight, bare and smooth. He needed to hear that—it’s my part to play to keep him addicted to his kink. Think about it. He cums without touching himself because I tell him I love Jake. I find that massively exciting. It’s what we do, and we do it together. I asked him afterward if he wanted me to stop or even ease up. He said no—and that makes him the man of my dreams.
Rob’s a fucking asshole, but God, that dick—nine inches of thick, veiny perfection swinging between his legs like a cum cannon. He’s good-looking, built, and cocky, but the moment he opens his mouth, you want to slap him. Loud and crude, obnoxious as hell—except when he’s got me pinned down, and that fat cock is splitting me open. Then…I don’t give a shit what he says. He knows how to use it, and that’s what keeps me coming back. He’s got this swagger, this way of moving that cock inside me—slow at first, teasing, then hard and deep until I’m a moaning, dripping wreck. It’s like his dick’s got a mind of its own, overriding every annoying word that fly’s out of his mouth, and I’m hooked, married or not. My boyfriend Jake makes me want to avoid Rob, but my pussy overrides that decision every time.
Rob loves that I’m Scott’s wife—loves the thrill of disrespecting him right by using his wife as a cum sponge for his dick. “Your husband’s a loser,” he growled into my ear as he was bending me over the couch, yanking my shorts down while I was soaking wet from thinking about that massive rod. He spread my ass cheek, popped out my butt plug, and spit on my hole. He lined his dick up and slipped that fat head in my ass, and he leaned over and said in my ear, “I’m going to grease your colon, slut.” And like that was the magic phrase, it’s like my asshole just lubed itself up, and he was in—pushing past the tight ring, stretching my asshole wide, making me gasp and claw at the cushions. It felt deliciously filthy and intense, that fat cock filling me up, sliding deeper until I feel him in my gut, every inch penetrating my body. He fucks me like he owns me, grunting, slapping my ass, telling me, “Scott can’t do this—can’t make you scream like a bitch in heat.” And I do scream, my pussy dripping even as my ass takes the pounding because he’s right—Scott’s got nothing on this.
Rob cums like a fucking animal—deep, hard spurts, unloading right inside my asshole until it’s a hot, sticky mess. “There’s my grease job,” he laughs, pulling out slowly so I feel every inch drag, his cum leaking out, slicking my thighs. I let him do it—let him flood my colon—because that dick’s worth it. He’ll grab my hair after, smirking, and say, “Tell Scott how I painted your guts, huh? Tell him his wife’s a cum-dump for a real man.” It’s disrespectful as hell, and he gets off on it—on knowing he’s marking me in ways Scott can’t touch. I put up with his shit, his loudmouth attitude because when that nine-inch monster’s slipping inside me—ass or pussy, it doesn’t matter—I’m lost, panting, willing to take every obnoxious jab just to feel him stretch me again.
And then there’s the best part that lights me up inside. I love going home to Scott, my ass still pumped full of Rob’s sperm, that hot, sloppy mess sloshing in my colon with every step. I walk through the door, thighs slick, my hole throbbing and oozing, and I can feel it—another man’s thick, slimy load, fresh from his balls, sitting heavy inside me. It’s a mental high like nothing else—knowing I let Rob unload his testicles into my holes that I spread myself wide for him and took every drop while Scott sits at home wondering what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with. I’ll sit across from my husband, smirking, my ass clenching around that cum, imagining it dripping out onto the chair as I look at him. I said, “Well, I had a good night,” thinking how Rob fucked me raw, shot his seed so deep I’m still carrying it, and he will never measure up. It’s filthy, it’s wrong, and it gets me wet all over again—this power, this rush of owning Scott with every sticky trace of Rob inside me. I love him, my sweet, cuck husband, but God, I love this more—coming home wrecked, claimed, my ass a dripping trophy of another man’s balls emptied into me.
Tonight kicked off with Jake picking me up, and it was such a fucking rush. I ensured Scott watched as I got into my tight dress, knowing I was heading out for a hot date with another guy. When Jake rolled up, Scott was at the window, looking pathetic as I grabbed my purse and strutted out. I could feel him staring, totally humiliated, while I hopped into Jake’s car. Jake leaned over and gave me this slow, sexy kiss right in the driveway, his hand on my thigh, making sure Scott saw everything—his wife looking hot as hell, getting claimed by someone else. I smirked and waved at Scott as we drove away, leaving him stuck at home while I went off for a night of romance and fucking with a guy who was successfully making me his own.
On the way to the restaurant, Jake got me all worked up, his hand sneaking up my dress, rubbing my thigh real slow, and fuck, I was wet in seconds, my pussy throbbing for him. I reached over and started rubbing his cock through his pants, and he was already hard as hell, that boner ready to bust out. I squeezed him, feeling him twitch, and gave him a dirty look, both of us knowing his dick would be making me scream by the end of the night.
When we arrived at the restaurant, we had to wait a few minutes in the car before heading in so Jake could get his cock under control—we didn’t want to walk in with that obvious bulge. The hostess led us to our table, and we held hands the whole way, like the real couple we now are, his grip warm and possessive. I felt like I truly belonged to Jake. We sat at a little table, Jake right next to me, in this nice romantic restaurant with tablecloths, dim lighting, and soft music. We enjoyed our meal, talking and laughing the whole time, with the sexual tension growing between us. When we finished eating, Jake’s hand slid up under my skirt, rubbing my thigh, working his way up until his fingers brushed my clit. I started leaking girl juices immediately, my pussy soaking as he teased me right there at the table.
I reached over and started rubbing Jake’s cock through his pants, and again, he was instantly hard, that bulge coming right back. With the tablecloths hiding us, I got bold—unzipped his pants, pulled his cock out, and started stroking him slow and firm. His dick was hot in my hand, dripping precum, the tip was covered in precum, and I used it as lube as I worked him. He let me go for a bit, but then he pulled my hand away, probably knowing he’d lose it if I kept going. By then, my pussy was flowing juices, a total mess—I’m glad I wore a dark dress because the wet spot wasn’t too noticeable when we walked out.
We got to his car, and Jake, being the gentleman he is, opened my door and kissed me so passionately, his tongue teasing mine, making me melt and forget I even had a husband. He closed the door, walked around, and climbed in. As soon as Jake was in, I couldn’t wait—I pulled out his cock and blew him right there in the parking lot, my lips wrapped around him, sucking him deep while he groaned, his hand in my hair. His dick throbbed in my mouth, precum salty on my tongue, and I didn’t stop until he was panting, right on the edge. Then we returned to his place, knowing the night was far from over.
As soon as we walked into Jake’s place, the tension exploded—he pushed me against the door, his hands grabbing my hips as he picked me up, my legs straddling his waist while we kissed hard, tongues touching, knowing this was more than just physical. He carried me into his bedroom, still kissing me, and laid me down on the bed. I spread my legs wide, lifting my dress, my pussy already wet for him, and he dove in head first. His mouth was on me in seconds, licking and sucking my clit, lapping up all the juices dripping from my pussy lips. The second I felt his warm tongue slide inside my opening, pushing deep, I lost it—I came so hard, my whole body shaking as I drenched him with my lady jizz, soaking his face while I screamed his name, my hips bucking against him.
When I got my head back on straight, I sat up, hungry for more, and went down to his cock. I started slow, sucking and licking his balls, teasing them with my tongue, working my way up his shaft, savoring every inch until I reached the head. I could taste his sweet, salty precum, and it made me want his cock deep in my throat. I took him balls deep in my mouth, slobbering all over him, my spit dripping down as I sucked him hard, loving the way he groaned. He told me to stop, and I did, climbing on top of him instead. I rode his cock hard and fast, my pussy gripping him tight as I bounced, feeling him hit deep inside me. It didn’t take long before I felt his dick twitch, then start pumping me full of cum—hot, silky jizz shooting deep, filling me up. That feeling took me over the edge again for the second time, my pussy clenching around him as I came, screaming, my whole body trembling while his cum mixed with mine, dripping out of me.
When we both got our heads screwed back on straight, we headed out to his patio since it was a nice evening. We sat there chatting and laughing, just enjoying each other’s company. After about an hour or so, he pulled me onto his lap, and we started making out, his hands roaming my body, reigniting that fire. I lifted my dress, my pussy still soaked and dripping his sperm, and climbed onto his iron-rod-hard cock, sliding down slowly until I couldn’t go any further, his dick filling me completely. I rode him like I couldn’t get enough, my hips grinding, bouncing, chasing that high again. After a few minutes, we were both cumming together, his dick pulsing as he shot another load deep inside me, my pussy squeezing him tight as I came, the feeling so amazing I just sat there on top of him, savoring it until he went limp and his cock slipped out, his cum dripping out of me onto his lap.
I climbed off, and we chatted more, still basking in the moment. Then I told Jake I was ready for him to take me home. We got ourselves back together, and he drove me home, pulling up to my place. He kissed me passionately, his lips lingering on mine, before I got out of his car and walked to my front door. Scott was sitting there, pretending to watch TV, but I knew he wasn’t—he’d been watching Jake kiss me goodnight at the window. I could see the shame boner in his pants, that pathetic bulge giving him away, his face tight with humiliation as I walked in, still glowing from my night with Jake, his cum still leaking out of me. I gave Scott a polite hello and went to my room, and left him there, his dick hard from watching another man take what once was his.
I’ve got a date with Jake tonight, which is fantastic, but now I’m stuck filling the whole day without rubbing myself off. The sexual tension is killing me—Scott’s home until 1, and having my husband around while I’m daydreaming about Jake is this huge, sexual thrill. It’s not like Scott doesn’t know what’s going on. He does, but the fact that he is powerless to stop us makes it so hot. And to top it off, I’m going to make Scott shave my pussy and asshole nice and smooth for Jake. It will be like I’m making him give me to Jake. Fuck, now I’m starting to drip just thinking about that. I keep picturing our date tonight, a romantic dinner with Jake, his hand on my thigh under the table, always moving closer to my clit, the way Jake likes to kiss me soft and slow in public, not caring who sees, his arm slung around me like I’m his. I picture us heading back to his place, where he’ll fuck me senseless, his dick pounding me until my brain shuts off. I need to quit thinking about this. It’s driving me crazy waiting to be with Jake later. It gives me a little insight as to how Scott feels when I’m gone for the night with him. The waiting is intense. Still, I’m trying hard not to think about sex, but it keeps sneaking back in—like how I want Jake’s dick to pop into my mouth, all thick and hard, making me drool while I taste him. To make it even harder, I have to stop myself from rubbing Jake in Scott’s face because, if I start, I won’t be able to stop, and there’s no way I’ll keep from fingering myself silly. I can already feel my pussy begging for it. What’s making it so frustrating is that I didn’t get off yesterday—I got myself all worked up and then nothing. Now my pussy’s like a cum timebomb, ready to explode, and every thought of Jake’s cock, plus the thrill of Scott knowing I’m Jake’s now while imagining Jake’s lips on mine and his arm pulling me close in front of everyone, just makes it harder to keep my fingers away from my clit. I need to hold off. It will make the orgasm I have tonight that much better.
Enjoy these pics—I took them before things turned on me. Today I was dying to cum, as in seriously aching for it, but it just didn't happen. I was going to FaceTime fuck Jake—had it all set in my head, him showing himself on the screen, showing off that dick I'm obsessed with. Thought I'd get an easy orgasm rubbing one out. But nope, work fucked it up—he got yanked away, leaving me horny and frustrated.
So I turned to Scott, figured I'd mess with him, crank up the humiliation, then masturbate afterward. I started laying into him—how Jake's cock owns me, how I'd rather scream for him than even look at Scott. I wanted to see him squirm, that pathetic look when I tell him he's nothing to me. I was just getting going when his phone buzzed—this time, it was Scott's work, dragging him off before I could really twist the knife and get my box totally worked up. That was the final straw. Killed the mood, and all that heat just fizzled out. I'll write more tomorrow. See about making a "cumback." 👍🏻😜
No sooner do I answer why I like Jake's dick breeding me than I get the question…" Why do you like being so mean to Scott?" Look, I get it, I am not everyone's kind of jizz bucket. Scott knew that when he married me. I admit that it's a sick, twisted high, one I can't get enough of—humiliating Scott is an obsession that burns through me. There's something so deliciously twisted and sexually charged about spreading your legs for another man, letting him plunge into you, not just letting him but wanting him to pump me full of his sperm. I can feel every pulse, every spurt, knowing it's not Scott's—like I have been conquered, and I'll carry home the proof of his conquest with his jizz dripping down my thighs. The physical act is extraordinary, feeling the stretch of my pussy as it grips that another man's cock, the wet slap his dick makes, the way my body betrays Scott every time another man makes me orgasm. The best part physically is the way my cunt clenches the cock of the stud breeding me as he unloads deep inside me. Marking what is his with his cum. I don't clean up after—I let the jizz stay wet and sticky between my thighs because I know what's coming next, and that is taking it home to Scott.
But it's more than just the fucking. It's the mental game that sets my core on fire. Walking through that door, still slick and messy from being fucked stupid by a superior man, I can picture Scott's pathetic face…knowing that what once belonged to him has now been taken away…again by another man. I love spreading my legs open for him. Let him see the cum from another man's testicles dried on my thighs and still sticky and slick in my pussy. I like to scoop that thick testicle cream from my fucked-out hole, showing Scott my fingers before I smear it across his lips, his cheeks, and his dignity. The power is incredible and addicting—knowing he's compelled to taste another man's triumph, making him understand in no uncertain terms that he's nothing compared to the studs who've claimed you. It's an obsession because it's control. Is it sadistic? Sure, but the power trip…I live for it. Every drip of cum I rub into his face removes a little more of his manhood, a reminder that I own him—not just his body, but his mind, his shame, his everything. And fuck, if that doesn't make a girl wet and ready to do it all over again…I don't know what will! Sorry about the long answer, but it is what it is.
Someone asked me the other day why I like fucking Jake so much. Where do I start? It’s his cock first—it’s perfect. It’s thick, hot, and it slides into me so slow and deep it makes my pussy pour like it’s a faucet. My cunt clings to every inch, begging him to stay inside me. He moves like he knows me inside and out, thrusting with this steady rhythm that makes my clit pulse and my tits ache in the best of ways, and that only happens with Jake. It’s a funny thing, my whole body shakes when he takes me apart with his dick. But it’s more—how he looks at me, like I’m the only thing that matters. When I cum with him, it’s this wild, shattering thing—my cunt has these crazy spasming contractions locking his dick inside of me. It’s so intense I lose the ability to breathe. Then, at the peak of my orgasm, I can’t even speak, and just getting a coherent thought to form in my orgasm-induced brain-dead state is near impossible. But it’s more than that. We are well past the physical and deep into the emotional. We don’t just fuck anymore. We connect. I never intended to let emotions get involved. It was never planned. But it happened. Look, I know it’s because of his dick. I wouldn’t be in love with him if his cock weren’t so perfect. It fits me like a key in a lock. It started as lust, his looks, his body, but then his cock took over and stole the show. Somehow his cock showed me a man I can’t let go of. It sneaked him into my heart, and now I belong to Jake. Someone is going to ask, so I’ll just say it. No, doubt I would give Jake a second thought if it weren’t for his dick. That is the truth. It’s fucked up, especially for Scott, but it’s the truth. It doesn’t matter to me, though…I love the ride I’m on with Jake, both physically and emotionally. And…now you know why I like Jake balls deep in my guts. Probably more of an answer than you cared to hear, but I like to be precise.
I know I tell you about dicks that find their way in my guts more than I should, and accordingly, I have been asked why I write so much. Why? Primarily for selfish reasons. I admit that I love laying out every detail of my fuck sessions—It feels like I’m bringing you along with me to watch and be a part of it. This will sound weird to some people, but I want you to know that it feels like for me the way I wish I knew what it feels like for you. Like when a guy’s cock slides into my mouth, thick and warm, stretching my lips, tasting it, the salty sweat, and that smell, musky perfection. It’s hard, yet spongy and the weight of it sits there, pressing my tongue down. Then the sperm comes—this indescribable feeling of knowing it has come fresh from his testicles, creamy fluid that was produced in his body, warm and slick, a little bitter, a little thick, coating my throat. I doubt I'll ever get enough of it. And now, knowing you’re in on this—picturing what I’m doing, what I feel when a cock slides into my mouth or any other hole in my body—it’s like sexual heroin, this crazy addictive kink I have for sharing. I feel it deep inside of me, and the thought of you getting that, knowing how it hits me, makes me want to do it over and over again. What is my point here? I guess writing it out is like I’m dragging you into the bed with me, letting you feel that rush I get from sex, that high, right along with me. Plus, I just really like writing it out. I go back and read them so I don’t forget the best parts of my encounters. So, if you don’t like reading these things, the easy answer is simply just to look at the pics and videos and pretend you are the one pumping cock in my guts. Don’t be afraid to send me videos/pics of your dick emptying while you do so. I’m just saying.
Dick videos and pics? Yes, I’m into them. Videos hit harder, though—especially when they end with a cum shot, that’s the real deal. Why do I like them? It’s pretty much an obvious and straightforward answer. My vagina’s wired for dicks, the same way you’re drawn to tits, ass, and pussies. I get a kick in seeing a cock up close—thick, hard, veins popping, or even a smaller one unloading a messy flood of cum. I have no idea why someone would think I wouldn’t…again, I have a pussy, and I have a sex drive. Dicks kind of call my name. Big fat giant dicks are aesthetically my preference—visually, they make my pussy wet just staring at them—but I’m not picky. A big load of cum flying out of the head of any size dick does the trick for me. Dick videos and pics don’t make me rub one out, but they do flip a switch and get me going. Sometimes I’ll ask where the guy’s from, crossing my fingers he’s close enough to fuck for real, but my luck’s trash. They’re always miles away. I don’t understand the hate for dick vids—any chick posting sexy stuff who bitches about them is fake and obviously isn’t into sex the way they try and sell it. She’s probably a dude managing the account anyway. It seems that real women who actually use their vaginas are hard to find on these types of accounts. So yes, I would love to see your dick in action, and please, don’t ask me if you can send it, just send it. I promise I’ll check it out!
I heard from Shane yesterday. He was the first one to text me back. It's been a few weeks since I have hung out with him, so I was ready to see him. I know it's mostly because I'm 58, he's 30, and that 28-year age gap makes my pussy throb like crazy. I get off knowing I was getting my holes stuffed with cum in my twenties while Shane hadn't even left his father's testicles yet. Is that creepy? Sure, but it makes my pussy twinge thinking about it. We look so good together—me, this older woman with a body that still turns heads, and him, this hot younger guy. People stare and know I'm with him for one thing, and that's his thick cock stretching my holes. I love being with Shane and his friends, who all know my husband, and he knows them. It's not just the rush of making Scott look like a pathetic cuck—it gets me dripping wet knowing the whole group is in on it, that knowing smile they give me because they know Shane's going to pump his sperm into my married body, whether it's my pussy, ass, or mouth.
Did I empty Shane's testicles? Yes, twice last night and once this morning. The sex was so good, and Shane made me cum three times, each one leaving me satisfied. First, he took me on his couch, missionary, my legs thrown over his shoulders while he stood, his hard cock slamming into my soaked pussy. I could feel every inch of him stretching my cunt. I liked feeling my juices dripping down my ass as he pounded me. He lasted about five minutes before he groaned and shot his load, his hot cum flooding my pussy, coating my walls with thick, sticky jizz. Feeling his sperm deep inside me made my clit harden and pulse, and I kept grinding on his dick, making his cum into a frothy white mess until I came so hard I saw stars. His cock was barely hard enough to stay in me as my pussy tried to eat his dick, my whole body trembling, cum and juices leaking out, leaving me dazed and loving every second of it.
We went out to eat after, and he was talking about his work like a typical 30-year-old while I sat there, a 58-year-old woman old enough to be his mom, just nodding. I pretended to be interested, but all I could think about was how hot it was that I could still make a guy his age want to empty his balls in me. Scott texted me while we were out, and that made my pussy fire up again, thinking about how Shane makes me feel like Scott doesn't even exist. I ignored Scott, and we went back to Shane's apartment. We relaxed at his place until he started his little game that let me know he wanted to pump my holes. He began rubbing my thigh, giving me that look—and I was so ready to get taken again. I told him to eat me out first, and he went for it, his tongue licking my asshole, swirling around the rim, then diving into my pussy, sucking my clit until I was moaning like a slut. I was so wet his chin was shiny from my pussy juice, but I wanted more. I told him to take my ass, and when he slid his cock into my tight hole, I felt that deep, burning stretch—so different from my pussy, so intense. I love the way my ass grips his cock like a vice. That rough slide a dick in my asshole creates never fails to make my body shake. It's an odd sensation. It feels like my clit is being rubbed even though he wasn't touching it. Mentally, it's such a rush—I love knowing I can make a man half my age lose his mind by letting him breed my asshole, his cock claiming me in a way Scott never could. Even if he could, I wouldn't allow it. Thinking about that, I came in minutes, my ass clenching around him. My orgasm ran through me so hard I started yelling and loud at that. He kept pumping me balls deep and then groaned and shot his second load deep in my colon, his hot cum painting my insides. I almost came again just from the thought of this 30-year-old stud unloading his sperm in my ass, that dirty, unique feeling of his jizz coating my walls, marking me as his.
I stayed the night, and I was still hungry for him this morning. I asked if I could suck his cock before I left because I love making Shane happy. Getting on my knees for him, his hard dick in my mouth, makes me feel needed in a very special way, like I'm his dirty little MILF property. I sucked him deep, using my mouth like a pussy, my tongue swirling around the head, tasting his precum. When he came, he fed me his thick, salty sperm. I kept my mouth on him, sucking until his dick stopped spasming and the last stringy thread of jizz was sucked from the head of his dick. I didn't show him his cum—people always ask if I do that, but that's not my style. Shane knew I swallowed it all, my belly full of his load, and I proved it when I kissed him after I finished drinking him. He would have been in for a surprise if I hadn't eaten it.
Now I'm home, and Scott's in a mood, saying I need to spend more time with him and be a "normal" wife. I don't have time for his nonsense. My pussy certainly has no interest in hearing that nonsense whatsoever. Especially since I'm still buzzing from Shane, my ass and pussy still enjoying the coating from his cum. It makes me want more. And there will be more because I've got to get ready for Jake tonight. Shane might make me forget Scott even exists, but Jake will take me to another level.
