In this life, you have to try everything, or be a whore for a month.

Part 1. My Passion.

Hello, boys and girls. My name is Olya, I'm married, I'm 26 years old, I have long legs, a beautiful body, and an excellent husband. We got married three years ago, and I want to tell you about one of his experiments. It all started with me cheating on him. When a cocktail of my hormones rages inside me, combined with close proximity to a temperamental man, I just lose my head. I think you understand what I mean. That's what happened that time. I was walking home in my favorite attire: black stiletto heels, black stockings, a short red skirt, and a white t-shirt that accentuated my third-size breasts.

It should also be noted that I sometimes don't wear panties; this has been a habit since childhood. I loved teasing boys by not wearing panties, and it still gives me special pleasure. However, one must be careful; I really don't want to end up in a dirty toilet, a crumpled carcass of a healthy Caucasian man. No, I'm not arguing, there are hunters for that, but I'm not a fan.

So, let's get back. The evening was wonderful, and I decided to walk along the embankment from work to home. After five minutes, I felt someone drilling my ass with their gaze—and when I turned, I secretly glanced at the pursuer. He was almost two meters tall, with a pumped-up body clad in a white tank top and jeans. His facial type was such that it's easier not to describe it but to immediately throw myself into his arms. I decided to play with him and dropped my keys. To pick them up, I had to bend over. I don't know how much my ass, with the slightly visible garter of my stockings, affected him, but within a few seconds, he knelt down to my eye level, offering help. I stared, and he took me by the waist, lifted me up, and said that my eyes had charmed him, burned his heart, and he would die if he didn't see them again, and he suggested going to a restaurant. I agreed. At the table, I barely remember what happened; I only remember his words: "I will wait anyway until you are ready, even if it takes an eternity. I am truly captivated by you, and for this sweet captivity enveloping my heart, I am ready to wait."

You might say I'm a fool and fell for his words, but after that phrase, I told him: let's go somewhere, please, I can't take it anymore, my body aches inside, wanting you with every particle. We took a taxi, and already in the taxi, we merged in a passionate kiss, and his hand found my hungry abode. I didn't think about my husband then; I didn't think about anything. I wonder how you would have behaved in such a situation. We arrived very quickly; he, trembling, opened the door, carried me to the bed, threw me down, and without removing his clothes, entered me. How grateful I was to him for that. At that moment, I didn't think about anything except his lips and his cock, which I tenderly enveloped with my lips. It should be noted that his cock turned out to be just right. Moderately long, curving to the left. I lay beneath him, and in my moan, I found him. He bit my nipples, kissed my neck, moving deeper and deeper into my vagina, and with a sharp thrust, entered my uterus. I screamed, grabbed his back, my eyes burned with the fire of a lustful bitch, and for a moment, I realized I didn't even know his name. Clutching his hair with my hands, I said: "Tell me your name, so it can escape my lips as a scream."

He said: "My name is Andrey." At that moment, I jerked my pelvis sharply towards him, and we both came, shattering into thousands of fragments of nothingness. I fell down exhausted, and then my husband called. I shouldn't have answered, but foolishly, I did. He heard my voice, and it seemed to me he guessed everything. I just whispered into the phone: honey, I'll be home soon. I walked home, Andryusha's sperm inside me; it was hard to walk, but I walked. When I got home—I saw a beast in my husband's eyes. He said: Slut, come here, I'll tie you to the bed. (Specially for .org — ) I smiled lightly and said, let's go, baby. Just be gentle with me. My words only angered him; he threw me on the bed, handcuffed me, and with all his strength, he fucked me—there's no other word for it. When he felt someone else's sperm inside me, he went berserk and began to impale me on his cock even more fiercely. I must say, I don't remember us ever having sex like that. I wanted more, and I deliberately screamed another name; I said, Andrey, fuck me like a market whore! Then I was in trouble; he made a few thrusts, slapped me—not a slap, it hurt, but it was a sweet pain. I howled from the cocktail of pain and pleasure and, after coming, fell down exhausted. My husband made a few more powerful thrusts, calling me a slut, and discharged into me. In the morning, there was only one thought in my head. If I get pregnant, from whom? I pushed it away with difficulty, went to the pharmacy, and took emergency contraception. Thank the gods, the seed of my lovers did not take root in me.

Part 2. Sweet Retribution.

For those who want to be at the center of events—I recommend reading the first part first.

So, after that incident when I cheated on my husband with Andrey, I avoided contact with my "one-night lover." But my husband behaved strangely. After three days, he declared that since I did it, we either get divorced, or I fulfill any three of his wishes. I'm a goldfish, I thought, and inside, everything treacherously ached, assuming what kind of wish he would have after that. I looked at him and said: I agree, and I want to hear the first wish right now, my lord. He looked at me and said: since you like being a slut, you will become one! Starting tomorrow, for a month, you fulfill all my whims; the only condition is that I don't want anyone extra to know about it. I swallowed hard; one part of me sank into the ground from the strange prospect, the other—internally rejoiced. I silently nodded. He said: "Then I want you to sit at home tomorrow and wait for me and my new friends in your sexiest outfit; I allow you to choose the clothes yourself."

I swallowed again, and a familiar burning spread inside. I took off all my clothes, approached him, and said: "only on one condition: you fuck your slut right now, otherwise I will never let you fuck me in my life"! He, not expecting such a turn, paled slightly and said: well, okay, my dear whore, I'll fuck you so hard that tomorrow it will be difficult for you to receive your clients. A lump rose to my throat again when I realized we were talking about more than one lover. But, feeling my power over him, I said: And one more condition. If you have three wishes, then I have one, which I'll save for now. He thought for a short while, bent me over doggy style, and inserted his cock into my ass; when it was fully inside, he said: Agreed. I moaned sweetly; anal sex always drove me crazy.

Then I thought, if there are more than one of them tomorrow, what will come to their minds? Then I rolled my eyes and, with a moan, fell half my body onto the bed, while my beloved half was being impaled by my husband on his crimson, tense cock. I felt that my husband was seriously overexcited, and accelerating the rhythm, he made the bed creak and me scream from a mixture of pain and pleasure. After a few minutes, I slid my ass off his cock, took him in my mouth, and began to suck passionately until he flipped me over again, put a pillow under my hips, and entered my ass with renewed force. A sweet moan made him speed up; it didn't take five minutes before he poured his sperm into my ass. A blissfully cunning smile was on my face. I approached him, threw him on the bed, stood over his face, and told him to clean everything out. He obediently began to lick the sperm from my ass, and I—I admit—imagined that this sperm was not his. Just the thought of it made me come again. Still, I have a wonderful husband.

Part 3. Tomorrow.

The next day, I called work, said I wasn't feeling well, and stayed home to gather strength. I took a

shower, removed excess body hair with cream, played with my little girl—couldn't resist, thinking about the evening. I went to the hairdresser, got eyelash extensions, did my makeup, and started choosing an outfit. Of course, I put on my favorite stockings; a woman in stockings can be forgiven a lot, as everyone knows. My gaze stopped at a black evening dress and black stiletto heels. The dress opened up my chest, neatly supporting my little ones. I looked in the mirror and, satisfied with my appearance, looked at the clock. My husband said they would come at 6; there was half an hour left. I took a glass of red wine and threw in a little hobby from my youth—half a tablet of a strong stimulant.

I wanted to get more from this evening than I could. And if I jump ahead, I succeeded. Soon the doorbell rang; I opened the door and saw two men accompanied by my husband. It was immediately obvious how their jaws dropped to the floor; I had to kiss each on the lips to put them back in place. One was a brunette, a tall handsome man; I thanked my husband in my heart for this gift. The second was not to my taste, shorter and thinner, but I was slightly tipsy, so without paying due attention, I invited the boys to the bedroom, where a table was already set with wine and fruit. The men drank a glass in one gulp and, looking at me, fell silent. I looked at my husband. I had never seen him like that. He stood, looked at me; I saw him drooling. Honestly, I tried with my appearance to tease him. I looked at the men and said: why are you standing like statues—take my husband, sit him in the chair, which offers an excellent view of the bed, and handcuff his hands to the back of the chair. My husband was taken aback but didn't resist. When it was done, I approached my husband, bent over so that my ass, tight in the dress, was visible to those two, kissed my husband on the cheek, and said: watch.

The men didn't need persuading; a cunning smile flashed on their faces, and they both approached me as if on command. The first one, as it turned out later, his name was Sergey—the handsome one I described earlier—was bolder. He came up to me, slipped his hand under the dress, found the garter of the stockings, grunted with satisfaction, slapped my ass, and lifted the dress to see my black panties. Without asking, he pulled them off, saying he preferred their absence, which I agreed with, feeling a familiar burning in my chest. The second, his name was Oleg, stood and watched all this. I glanced at him and beckoned with my finger; when he approached, I passionately sank my teeth into his lips, about 15 centimeters from my husband's lips. Meanwhile, Seryozha slipped a finger into my pussy and said: "Yeah, the slut is already all wet." With these words, he threw me on the bed so that my husband could see my lustful hole, which obediently submitted to Seryozha's caresses. I looked into his eyes; they burned with excitement, but he didn't give in; he continued the caresses, inserting three fingers into me, gradually stretching my hole. A moment later, his entire hand was inside. I moaned sweetly, arched like a string, and tried to impale myself on his hand even more.

Without further ado, he immediately inserted his giant fully into my starving pussy. I screamed, and then I drifted into a light oblivion, feeling every cell of my new friend—the pill worked, I thought then, and with a gesture, I indicated to Oleg that it was time for him to join. For this, I had to get up; I wanted to feel their cocks rubbing against the thin partition inside me. Oleg lay on the bed; I lay on top of him, helped insert his cock into my ass, and, gasping, looked at Seryozha with the gaze of a wild bitch. He climbed on top of me, inserted his cock into my pussy, and I screamed. With each of their thrusts, my screams grew louder; then I lost count of orgasms. Exhausted, I fell, but they continued to pound me. I looked at my husband—he was greedily watching the actions of my lovers; his cock was steaming, but he couldn't take it in his hand and jerk off. My idea with tied hands succeeded; I wanted to keep him in agonizing anticipation, and I succeeded. After a while, the guys asked me to turn over, and now Oleg was pounding my pussy, and Seryozhenka, my sweet beast, entered my ass with his club. It hurt, but the pain was tolerable. Oleg's cock was smaller, so it squelched in my girl, but I was absorbed in Seryozha's pounding. The pain went away, leaving room for pleasure; I came, screamed, and fell onto the bed exhausted.

Seryozha didn't think of stopping; he shoved his cock into my ass with all his might. I thought it would come out of my mouth; that was the only thought that could come to my mind. A minute later, I felt a stream of sperm hit my ass, and, whispering tenderly "Yesss," I jerked; a new orgasm washed over my body. At that time, Oleg also came into his protective bag. A pleasant warmth spread through my anus. I told the guys to untie my husband and put him on the bed. When my request was fulfilled, I approached my husband and told him to lick me clean. With pleasure, I watched the fear in his eyes, how his tongue licked my anus, and Sergey's sweet sperm flowed over it. You'll say I'm a lustful whore—yes, that's true, but I only did what my husband asked. I love my husband. When he finished, I leaned over to him and said that I wanted to suck his cock; I wasn't capable of more, and I didn't want to give him more pleasure that evening. Unbuttoning his pants, I passionately sank my teeth into his erect cock; it didn't take a minute before I felt a stream of sperm in my mouth. Getting up, I licked my lips with my tongue, looked at the guys, thanked them, glanced at my husband, and whispered: 29 days left, honey, smiled sweetly, and fell into oblivion. Jumping ahead, that month passed better than our honeymoon; I discovered a new side of my husband—the observer husband who set guys up for me, and I repaid him with a spectacular show. I'll tell you about the second memorable adventure of that month sometime, and the wishes from my husband and me are still ahead 🙂