Something came to mind...
A nostalgic story recounting one of our first experiences in the hotwife theme a couple of years ago. There isn't much action as such here. It's simply memories of one memorable day in our life...
The night outside is gradually giving up its positions, yielding to a new day—it gets light early in summer. The windows are open because of the heat; you can hear the city slowly coming to life despite the early hour—street cleaners are heading to work, I hear them scraping their brooms on the asphalt, cars start driving more frequently on the road a house away from us, the entrance door slams from time to time, letting someone out of the building. In front of me is an ashtray full of cigarette butts,
packed to the brim, ash all around on the table, on the keyboard—my hands are trembling slightly from nervous, and, let's be honest, sexual tension. To distract myself, I'm sitting on ICQ and VK, discussing what's happening and what's about to happen (or maybe is already happening at this very moment) with random interlocutors interested in the topic. The phone is lying nearby; I keep glancing at it, always ready to grab the receiver as soon as a call comes from my beloved.A couple of times my heart skipped a beat in anticipation of the action, but those weren't calls, but SMS messages like "Got there, all good," "It'll happen soon," adding fuel to the fire of my tension...
***
She's in a playful mood all evening—at the store, on the street, at home she excites me with her touches, her indecencies. It's clear that when we finally get to bed, the bed will be rocking wildly. And so we're lying there, the movie on TV is completely irrelevant now, we're only occupied with each other and satisfying our lust. In the process, I, as usual, start spinning my favorite topic—her having sex with another guy, she supports me in this, voicing her most risqué fantasies. We discuss this quite often, but it rarely comes to actually doing it. And so, after coming intensely, we blissfully stretch out on the sofa. However, I'm not backing down today and persistently persuade my beloved to indulge in mischief tonight. Her playful mood hasn't faded yet, and to my joy, she's very much not against such a continuation of the evening.
Going through the options, she settles on one guy, let's say his name is Louis. He's a foreigner, once studied with her in courses. They slept together once, but there was no continuation, and she decided to refresh her memories of him. To the standard message "Hi, how are you?" he replies just as neutrally, something like "Hi, all good." "What are you doing?" — "Hanging out with friends on Leningradskaya." "Mmm, I see, what about meeting up?" — "Don't know when I'll be free" and blah-blah-blah. We understand that by "meeting up," the guy means just a friendly get-together, and then Irina takes the bull by the horns—"I was thinking of having sex with you...". Send. Message delivered. We sit with a conspiratorial look, waiting for a reply. We don't have to wait long, and it doesn't disappoint us—it reads with undisguised interest in the event. After a brief but more constructive exchange and a couple of calls, preparations begin. First—the bathroom: razors, creams, and other components of female beauty. Next comes choosing an outfit, makeup, and frantic attempts to stuff everything necessary into a makeup bag.
All this happens under my instruction—what I expect, what I want, does she remember she should try to call me during the process, and other reminders from a loving husband. It's a bit past midnight or so, and now everything is ready—time to call a taxi. Here some headaches begin—the car is ordered, but it's not coming. We're both on edge now and need to send my beloved out of the house quickly before we release all this sexual tension on each other. Anyway, we waited for the car for a very long time, almost an hour and a half, managing to keep ourselves in check—a little goodbye blowjob doesn't count. And so, dousing me with the scent of her perfume for the last time and giving me a kiss, my sweetie flutters out the door. I see her get into the taxi, waving goodbye, and drive off into the night. My long wait begins...
***
(Erotic stories) The hectic preparations and long farewells are behind, and now I'm driving through the night city to meet adventures. The car stops at the right entrance, dropping me right into Louis's arms.
A short kiss and we're already behind the steel entrance door. I'm only wearing a short skirt, and my gentleman's temperament is quite passionate, and now he's already pressing me against the wall, squeezing me in his embrace. It's unknown how far this passionate impulse of ours would have gone, but then some commotion starts at the entrance and we hastily retreat before we're caught red-handed. While riding up in the elevator, I manage to send my husband a message that I'm there. We carefully enter the apartment—Louis's neighbors are already asleep, and we try to make less noise so as not to wake them, and sneak into the room. We don't turn on the light—the windows face the avenue and everything needed is perfectly visible. We lie on the bed, chatting a bit, trying to maintain some decency—after all, we haven't seen each other in a long time. But we don't last long, and now his hands are exploring my body, going under my top, under my skirt, his lips pressing against mine... I feel he's already ready for something more serious, but he's not rushing, enjoying the moment... After a while, he steps away to freshen up, and I send my beloved a second SMS, informing him that I'm about to add to our bag of mischief.
Louis appears a few minutes later, wrapped in a towel. Not letting him reach the bed, I press against his naked body, kiss him, with one hand pulling the towel off him. His cock ends up in my hand. It's already hard; I gently stroke it. It's not very big, just right for caressing with my mouth—I can take it deep. And without making him wait long, I get on my knees and wrap my lips around it. I won't play false modesty—I love giving blowjobs and am very skilled at it. My husband always tells me about my talents when I please him orally, and so as not to let him down, I now devote myself to this task with all diligence, following my beloved's instruction to "show his slut in the best light." After sucking his cock a bit, I go lower to his balls, then run my tongue along the entire shaft to the head, capturing it again in the prison of my lips.
Louis, apparently, really likes this, even too much—pressing my head tighter against him, he starts moving his hips towards me. His cock tenses up more and shoots a stream of cum into my mouth. After a few more movements, he pulls out of me, glistening in the dim street light with my saliva and his cum. Usually, I spit out the semen, but now I'm too lazy to find where to do it and swallow it, especially since it tastes quite pleasant. Kissing me, Louis flops onto the bed, and I, taking advantage of the break, run to the toilet, grabbing my purse—time to call my beloved.
***
The phone starts vibrating and I grab it without waiting for the ring. My heart is beating as if after a fast run, my breath catches, I press "answer."
— ...
— It's me, — a whisper is heard on the other end of the line (we agreed that I wouldn't start the conversation first, so as not to blow our cover if things have already started).
— So how are you, what are you doing?
— I'm in the bathroom, can't talk long, need to go back.
— Did something happen?
— I took him in my mouth, there will be more soon.
— Call me, okay?
— I'll try... I don't know how to do it discreetly...
— Okay. You know—I'm waiting for this.
— Yes. Bye! Love you!
— Love you too!
***
Returning to the room, I find Louis where I left him, still in his Adam's costume, and settle next to him. His hands at first calmly, but more passionately with each minute, caress me.
He whispers sweet nothings in my ear in his native language, sometimes interrupting them with kisses. I'm already ready for more, and he knows it perfectly well—his hand is fully in charge inside my panties. A moan escapes my lips, my body arches under the man's caresses—I already want to feel him inside me, forgetting about everything—about the neighbors behind the wall, about the fact that my husband is waiting for a call—at this moment I'm completely surrendering to my passion. My lover's hands carefully remove my clothes, the final touch throwing aside the damp panties, and now I'm completely naked in his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body, his breath on my skin. Covering my body with kisses, he takes a condom out of the package and, putting it on, hovers over me, teasing with his cock, moving it between my legs but not entering me. I move towards him, hoping to already feel him inside me, but he doesn't let me, keeping the situation under his control. "Enter me!" escapes my lips, and he, after tormenting me enough, finally does what I so passionately desired. My moans fill the room. He changes rhythms but doesn't slow down, fucking me with all his might. I wrap my legs around him, seek his lips with mine, scream from passion again—I don't know how much time has passed, I've lost track.
I ask him to slow down, but he instead speeds up even more—meaning the end is near. He abruptly pulls out of me, removes the condom, and I'm already there—catching the drops of cum, swallowing them. A little got past—I lick them off my lips with my tongue and lie down exhausted next to Louis. We're breathing heavily, coming to our senses after such passion. After lying around a bit, we head to the bathroom—first him, then me. Hiding the phone in my purse, satisfied and naked, I shuffle to the toilet for another communication session, secretly hoping to meet one of the neighbors in the hallway...
***
— ...
— It's me, — I hear my wife's satisfied voice on the other end of the line. Must be satisfied—it's been about forty minutes, maybe more, since our last conversation, clearly they didn't waste time.
— So, how? What's up? Why didn't you call?
— Baby, it was inconvenient. We were fucking...
My heart beats dully. My already excited cock seems to have gotten even bigger.
— So how? Did you like him? Tell me!
— Yes, everything was good, better than with Misha. Well, I'll tell you in detail at home, it's not very convenient now...
— Okay, I'll wait. What are you going to do now? Are you staying with him?
— Yes, seems so. Hoping for more.
— If you don't call, I'll eat you up!
— Okay, I'll try. Alright, kitty, I gotta go. Kisses!
***
It's already starting to get light outside, we're lying embraced, chatting. I understand I shouldn't drag it out—I'm starting to get sleepy, but I want to fool around a bit more, and my dear is waiting for my call. The conversation somehow turns to the topic of relationships and I tell Louis about our fun. He's slightly shocked but doesn't show it much. Says we're great and all that. During the conversation, my hand ends up on his cock. He's calm for now, but not completely relaxed. I talk about our fun, about how this isn't our first experience, stroking him there, feeling him starting to harden. The conversation fades on its own, turning into a long kiss. His cock fills with blood, takes a vertical position. Squeezing it with my hand, I move it up and down, enjoying my power over him. Breaking away from his lips, I go lower. Neck, chest, a few pirouettes around the nipples. Leaving a wet trail, my tongue continues its movement downward—stomach, thighs, slides a bit higher again. My lover spreads his legs wider so I can attend to his balls more thoroughly. With my hand continuing its movements, my tongue caresses him where I've just been given access.
After licking them, sucking the head, caressing the balls again, I go a bit lower. I run my tongue from the balls to the very hole, up, down, paying closer attention to his ass. I move around it, then insert my tongue shallowly into it, around again, and fuck him with my tongue again. After playing enough, I take his cock as deep as possible into my mouth. And again in circles. Unable to withstand such interesting caresses, Louis pushes me away, saying that a little more and he'll come. Such a quick surrender is not in his or my plans, and he slides off the bed in search of a condom. Taking advantage of this, I quickly take the phone out of my purse and dial the needed number. Putting the receiver by the headboard, I lie down more comfortably—Louis has already found what he was looking for and is ready to continue...
***
— ...
Silence. Could it be, will I hear it now? Carefully and quietly, afraid of every creak, but nevertheless very quickly, I lie down on the bed and close my eyes, pressing the mobile phone as hard as possible to my ear—as if that will help me hear better. The phone has a bit of static.
And then I hear some creaking and immediately a drawn-out moan from my wife. Thousands of pictures flash before my eyes—one brighter than the other, and in all of them my beloved is in the arms of a guy I don't know. My hand slides over my cock at tremendous speed, my breathing falters, a moan of pleasure tries to escape my chest, but I hold back, afraid of being heard and afraid of missing a single sound. The moans sometimes fade, sometimes sound louder—I clearly and vividly imagine what's happening at this moment. My sweetie's voice is heard, but indistinctly, echoed by an equally indistinct male voice, drowned out by a drawn-out loud moan. Then relative silence again, only faint, barely audible sighs. From time to time, quiet moans from her partner come through them, but overall he's not very emotional.
After a couple of minutes, I stop the recording—a long, as it seems to me, silence begins. Actually, it lasts no more than a minute, but it feels like an eternity to me. Activity increases, and I press "Rec" again. All this time I'm pleasuring myself with my hand, constantly slowing down so as not to come from such excitement, but then the moans in the receiver become more and more passionate and I can't hold back, drenching myself up to my chin with a powerful stream. Breathing in time with my rapid heartbeat, I wipe myself with the first T-shirt that comes to hand, continuing to listen to the lovers and recording it all on the phone. My cock, which just discharged, is hard again—no wonder, this is the first time in our practice, I've been dreaming about this for a long time and now it's happened.
The impossibility of not just participating, not even touching, but even seeing my beloved with another excites me more than all our previous experiences in group sex. And the previous hotwife experience doesn't compare at all to today's—back then I heard everything from my beloved's lips after she got home, but now I'm aware of all events online. Only the beloved voice in the receiver, close and yet distant, and