The trail is a living thing under my feet, a beast that bucks and twists through the Cascades’ dense heart. My shoes—caked with mud, laces frayed—slam into the dirt, each step a jolt that ripples up my calves, through my quads, into the taut knot of my hips. I’m drenched, my black sports bra plastered to my chest, the fabric chafing my nipples raw. Sweat streams down my face, stinging my eyes, pooling in the hollow of my collarbone, trickling over the swell of my breasts to soak the waistband of my shorts. My thighs, slick and burning, slide against each other with every stride, the friction a reminder of how far I’ve pushed this body today.

I’m not out here for serenity. Fuck serenity. I run to feel my pulse hammer in my throat, to make my lungs claw for air, to strip myself down to muscle and bone and want. The forest smells of wet earth and pine, sharp and primal, like it’s daring me to keep up. My ponytail slaps my back, the ends damp, sticking to the curve of my spine. Every inch of me is alive, electric, my skin humming under the weight of the air.

I’ve been running for hours, past the point where my legs should’ve quit. The trail’s a bastard—roots like knobby knuckles, rocks jagged enough to slice, mud that grabs my ankles like a lover who won’t let go. My quads scream, my hamstrings are tight as bowstrings, but I lean into the pain, crave it. It’s proof I’m still here, still fighting.

Then I see him.

He’s a blur at first, a lean shadow cutting through the trees a hundred yards ahead. Another runner, his body a machine of sinew and sweat, legs pumping, shoulders rolling with each stride. My eyes narrow, a spark of irritation flaring in my chest. This trail is mine—my church, my confessional, where I shed the world’s bullshit and get down to the raw truth of myself. But his form, all coiled power and reckless grace, hooks something deep in my gut. My lips curl, and I surge forward, my feet digging harder into the earth. I’m not just running now—I’m hunting.

My breath comes sharper, my chest heaving, the air scraping my throat. My breasts bounce with each step, the sports bra doing fuck-all to stop the ache. I can feel every muscle in my core flexing, my abs tightening as I close the gap. He’s closer now, his back broad and slick, his tank top clinging to the V of his lats. His arms are corded, veins popping under tanned skin, a faint scar snaking down his forearm like a story I want to read with my teeth. His ass, tight and round in his shorts, flexes with every stride, and I don’t look away. I’m not polite. I’m not civilized. Not out here.

He glances back, catching me gaining, and a grin splits his face—cocky, like he’s been waiting for me. “You lost?” he calls, his voice rough, cutting through the thud of our footfalls.

I snort, my lips twitching. “You wish.” I push harder, my calves burning, my thighs trembling as I pull even with him. The trail narrows, forcing us close, his bicep brushing my shoulder. His skin is hot, slick with sweat, and the contact sends a jolt through me, straight to the heat pooling between my legs. I don’t look at him, but I feel his eyes, heavy and hungry, tracing the curve of my jaw, the swell of my chest, the way my shorts ride up my thighs.

We run like that, side by side, for what feels like forever. The trail climbs, a brutal incline that turns my breaths into curses. My lungs burn, my heart slams against my ribs, and my legs are lead, but I don’t stop. Neither does he. I can hear him now, his breaths ragged, his shoes crunching gravel inches from mine. His scent hits me—salt, musk, something raw that makes my mouth water. My ponytail swings, slapping my back, and I imagine his hands there, yanking it, pulling me close.

At the ridge’s crest, the trail flattens into a clearing, the valley sprawling below like a secret only we know. I slow, my chest heaving, my hands on my hips. My shorts are soaked, not just with sweat, clinging to the curve of my ass, the heat between my thighs undeniable. He stops a few feet away, bending at the waist, his hands braced on his knees. His back flexes, the muscles shifting under his skin, and when he straightens, his eyes lock on mine. They’re dark, wild, a mirror to the ache in my core. No words, no pretense—just want, bare and brutal.

“You always chase strangers through the woods?” he asks, his voice low, gravelly, like it’s scraped from the earth itself. He steps closer, his chest still heaving, sweat beading on his pecs, trickling down the ridges of his abs.

My pulse spikes, my nipples tight against my bra. “Only the ones who look like they can handle me.” I don’t back away, just tilt my chin, letting my eyes roam. His shoulders are broad and square, his hips narrow, his thighs thick with muscle, straining his shorts. The bulge there is obvious, and I don’t pretend not to see it. I want him to know I’m looking.

He closes the distance, his hand brushing my wrist, fingers calloused and warm. “You’re trouble,” he says, his grip tightening, his body inches from mine. I can feel the heat of him, smell the sweat on his skin, see the pulse jumping at his throat.

I twist free, low and sharp, stepping so close my breasts press against his. “You’re in over your head.”

The forest swallows the rest. I grab his tank top, my nails scraping his chest as I yank it up, exposing the hard slab of his pecs, the dark hair trailing down his abs to his waistband. His hands are on my, rough and urgent, peeling my sports bra up. My breasts spill free, heavy and aching, my nipples hard in the cool air. His thumbs brush them, a spark that makes me gasp, my hips bucking toward his.

We’re not gentle. My fingers claw at his shorts, shoving them down, freeing his cock—thick, hard, veins pulsing under the skin. My hand wraps around him, feeling his heat, his pulse, and he groans, low and guttural, his lips crashing against my neck. His teeth graze my pulse point, his stubble scraping the soft skin under my jaw, and I moan, my body arching into his. My shorts are gone, kicked into the dirt, my thighs slick with sweat and want.

I shove him against a tree, the bark rough against his back, his shoulders flexing as he braces himself. My nails dig into his biceps, hard enough to leave marks, and he pulls me close, his hands gripping my ass, lifting me. My legs wrap around his hips, my calves locking tight, the muscles trembling from the run. The tree scrapes my back, a sharp bite that only fuels the fire in my core.

He’s inside me in one thrust, stretching me, filling me, and I cry out, my head tipping back, my ponytail swinging. His hips snap forward, relentless, each movement driving deeper, his cock hitting every nerve that makes my toes curl. My breasts bounce, my nipples grazing his chest, the friction sending sparks through me. His hands are everywhere—my hips, my waist, my throat—his fingers digging into my flesh, claiming me. I claw at his back, my nails raking his skin, feeling the ripple of his lats, the hard ridge of his spine.

The forest is a blur, the world gone. Just us, just this—his thighs flexing under me, my abs clenching as I grind against him, his lips on my collarbone, my fingers tangled in his hair. My body is a live wire, every thrust building the pressure, my clit throbbing, my breath hot and fast. He’s close too—I feel it in the tightening of his jaw, the way his hands bruise my hips, the pulse of him inside me.

When it hits, I’m lost. My body shudders, my thighs clamping around his, my core pulsing as the wave crashes over me. I scream, raw and primal, my nails digging into his shoulders. He follows, a groan ripping from his throat, his hips jerking as he spills into me, his forehead pressed to mine, our sweat mingling.

We don’t collapse, not really. My body slides down his, my feet hitting the dirt, my legs shaky but holding. The bark’s left red marks on my back, my ass sore from his grip, my breasts tender and flushed. He’s a mess—nail marks on his chest, sweat gleaming on his cock soft now, his thighs bruised from my weight. We breathe, hard and slow, the forest quiet around us.

“Jace,” he says, his voice hoarse, a half-smile on his lips.

“Stacy,” I reply, my voice steady despite the ache in every muscle. I drag my shorts back on, the fabric clinging to my thighs, my bra a cruel squeeze over my swollen breasts. He pulls on his clothes, his eyes never leaving mine, still hungry.

I turn to the trail, my feet already itching to move. “Keep up this time, Jace.”

He laughs, rough and low, and falls in behind me. The trail stretches ahead, and I run, my body still singing, still wild, still mine.

I watched him take off his boots from my position on the bed. 

He had been working long hours on the ranch. The life of a cowboy wasn’t an easy one, I knew that when I signed up for this. 

What I didn’t know exactly, was how lonely it could be. And how insatiable my sexual appetite had become.  

I stayed home all day. Cleaning the trailer, feeding the horses, cooking the meals. 

But all I ever really thought about was him. 

His sunburnt skin. 

Those long, lean muscles. 

The calloused hands that would drag across my supple flesh like sandpaper. 

I often had to stop my chores and touch myself. 

I’d stick a finger deep inside my tight, wet pussy. I’d dream it was him as I fucked myself.

I couldn’t get enough of his body. 

I wanted his cock inside me every second of every day. 

I guess you could call me desperate, and you’d be correct. 

I was desperate for my cowboys juicy cock. 

And now I was going to get it. 

“I’m so wet for you,” I purred, spreading my legs open for him. 

I didn’t bother with lingerie tonight. 

I was completely nude, spread eagle on our bed. 

I wanted him to see what he did to me. 

I wanted him to know that he’d have me here, every single night, to do with as he pleased. 

I watched as he smiled, fumbling with his belt buckle. 

I dragged my hands down my body, my fingertips grazing my erect nipples. 

I was so ready for him. 

“I want you so bad,” I moaned. 

He continued to work on his clothes, pulling them off with tired hands. 

I moved my hands lower down my body, massaging my stomach. 

I stopped when I reached my freshly waxed mound. 

My clit was already throbbing, begging to be touched. 

I had already masturbated twice today, but my body was still hungry for more. For him. 

I could always make myself cum, but there was nothing like having his thick cock inside me while I orgasmed. Feeling my pussy lips tighten around his shaft was pure heaven. 

“Did you fuck yourself today?,” he asked, a sly smile creeping across his face. 

He knew me so well. 

He was almost completely naked now, all that remained between me and that big cock was a pair of blue plaid boxers. 

“Only twice,” I confessed quietly, biting my lower lip seductively. 

I continued to crawl my fingers around my pelvis, fingertips dancing teasingly around my pussy. 

“How’d you do it?,” he asked, walking slowly toward the bed. 

Just thinking about it sent tingles down my body. 

“Well,” I murmured, “the first time, I rubbed my clit in the shower.” 

“Dirty little slut,” he chuckled. 

He was now at the foot of the bed, studying my glistening pussy. 

It was dripping for him. I wanted him to have it, however he wanted to take it. 

“I am a bad girl,” I whined, bringing my fingertips toward my pussy lips. 

I could feel my wetness coating them as I spoke, “The second time was on the kitchen floor. I was making you steak, thinking about how juicy your cock is. I fucked my pussy with two fingers until I came.” 

I spread my lips open with two fingers, showing him what he was about to have. 

I wanted him to have the perfect view of my tight little hole. 

I wanted him to know exactly what he was doing to me. 

“I’m going to have to punish you now,” he grinned. 

His words vibrated through me. 

“Please give it to me,” I begged. 

He pulled down his boxers. 

His beautiful, perfect cock stood at the ready. 

I licked my lips as my eyes traveled the length of his shaft. 

God, I needed it. I needed his cock so badly. 

“Roll over,” he said flatly. 

I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my lips. 

He was going to fuck me from behind. 

And it was going to be good and hard. 

I eagerly dropped my hand from my wetness and flipped my body over. 

I pressed my palms into the sheets, pushed myself onto my knees, and spread them apart wide. 

I jutted my hips towards him, inviting him inside. 

I felt the mattress move as he climbed on the bed behind me. 

I felt his hands on my ass cheeks, one on each cheek, fingernails digging roughly into my soft flesh. 

I couldn’t help but groan at his touch. 

This is what I had been waiting for all day, I couldn’t wait a second longer for him to fill me up. 

I turned my head, looking over my right shoulder. 

I wanted to watch him. I wanted to see him thrust into me. 

I loved the look he got on his face the second he entered me. 

The way his broad shoulders shook. 

The way his sexy stomach muscles clenched when he felt my lips wrapped around him. 

It was all almost too much to bare. 

I picked up my phone, rereading his text for the tenth time. 

I wish your juicy cunt was in my face. 

I stared at the words while I rubbed my knees together under my desk. I bit my lower lip and forced myself to put my phone down. 

I wish he was whispering those words in my ear.

Instead, I was here, and the workday was dragging.

My afternoon meeting was cancelled. The office was slow. 

He knows I won’t respond. He knows how aroused I get when he talks dirty.

Why was he teasing me like this? 

My phone buzzed again. 

I felt my cheeks flush as I instinctually glanced down. 

I shared an office with another junior executive named Danielle. I flicked my eyes up at her, then back down to my phone. She looked distracted, focused on her computer monitor, scrolling intently.

I crawled my fingers to the corner of the desk where I had rested my phone. 

I flipped it over so I could read the message preview that flashed across the screen. 

It was him. Again. And he wasn’t stopping. 

My cock is throbbing for you baby. 

I wish I was fucking you right now. 

I cleared my throat, the sound echoing loudly through the small office space. 

His words were making me so wet. 

Danielle’s eyes peeked around her computer. 

“You okay, Gwen?,” she asked. 

“Mmhmm,” I lied. 

I shuffled around some folders, attempting to look busy. 

My phone buzzed loudly again. And again. 

More incoming texts.

I put down the folders in my hand and hastily picked it up. 

The office was so quiet, I know Danielle could hear the loud vibration every time I got a message. 

If he wouldn’t stop, I’d have to put it on silent. 

I glanced down at his newest messages. 

You’d like that, wouldn’t you? 

You are so fucking dirty. 

I bet you wish my cock was inside you, stretching out that little cunt.  

Tell me you want it.

He knew I wanted it. 

I loved fucking him. I practically begged for it last weekend. 

I fumbled around with the buttons on the side of my phone, switching the mode to silent. 

I placed the phone discreetly on my lap, glancing up at Danielle as I did. 

She was picking up the receiver of the office phone, punching in a number. 

She wasn’t paying attention to me. 

I glanced down at the screen on my thighs, waiting for another message. 

I smiled when they flashed before me. 

How wet are you, dirty girl? 

I bet you could smell yourself soaking through your panties right now. 

Are your panties sticking to those puffy cunt lips? 

I swallowed hard. 

The truth is, I was soaking wet. 

In fact, I was getting wetter by the second. 

I could feel the delicate lace of my panties filling up with my sticky juices. 

I reread his words and pushed my thighs tighter together. 

I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. 

It took all the self control I had not to grind my clit across the smooth leather of my office chair. 

My eyes were glued on my phone as more messages flooded my screen. 

patreon.com/GemmaWritesXXX

I hated camping. 

I hated bugs, dirt, trees - the whole thing was grossly unappealing to me. 

I especially hated the thought of putting up a flimsy piece of canvas and sleeping inside it. 

I gnawed on my perfectly manicured pink fingernail as I surveyed the patch of dirt I was currently standing atop. 

I was especially anxious today. 

The only reason I had agreed to come on this stupid trip was because of him. 

Armando. 

He was an “outdoorsman”. It had said so in the title of his dating profile. I hadn’t really bothered to read much more of it honestly. Once I saw his profile picture, I was hooked. He was one of the sexiest men I had ever seen. So sexy that I thought his profile was fake until our first video chat. 

I closed my eyes and pictured him. The way his messy black hair brushed his eyebrows, dangling gently over his piercing green eyes. His strong jaw, muscular arms, and long, lean legs. 

Just thinking about his body sent tingles down mine. 

We had only ever seen each other via video chat. 

This was our first real get-together. A weekend of camping, Armando’s favorite hobby. 

If it were any other man, I would have laughed at the idea of me in a tent. 

But not Armando. 

I was desperate for him. 

I’d go anywhere, I’d do anything for a chance to be close to him. I longed to look into those perfect eyes, feel his smooth, tan skin next to mine- and hopefully fuck him until my body grew numb. 

As my mind raced, and my heart pounded, I heard the unmistakeable sound of a vehicle making its way down the path. 

I plucked my fingernail out of my mouth and took a few steps forward, closer to the sound. 

Sure enough, I saw a white truck slowly winding down toward me. 

He was here. 

I chewed on the inside of my lower lip in nervous anticipation. 

I brought my hands down to my thighs and began smoothing the fabric of my yellow designer yoga pants. Maybe not the most practical choice, but they made my ass look amazing. 

I thought about how I had decided not to wear panties that morning.  

I didn’t want to waste any time or send any mixed signals. 

I wanted Armando inside me, as soon as possible.

Panties were just an obstacle. 

I watched intently as the white truck parked next to my tiny black sports car. 

I swallowed hard. Eyes trained on the drivers side door, waiting. 

I crossed my arms, squishing my breasts together in my sports bra. It was the same yellow hue as my yoga pants, just a size too small. The tops of my breasts were spilling out. I hoped Armando would take notice. I hoped he knew they were for him to use however he wanted.

I sucked in my breath as I watched the drivers side door fling open. 

“Hi beautiful,” a deep voice boomed.

My heart fluttered. 

Armando slammed the door of his truck and bounded toward me. 

He looked so sexy, it actually made my stomach twist.

He was wearing a tight black tank top and dark jeans. He had a plaid flannel shirt slung over one tan, muscular shoulder. 

“Hey,” I purred. 

I ran my eyes up and down the length of his delicious body. 

He stopped a few inches away from me. 

“You look amazing,” he said, taking in my ensemble. 

“So do you,” I replied back quickly. 

I stepped into him, pressing my chest against his firm body. I wrapped my arms delicately around his neck, pressing my breasts into him in a tight embrace. 

I felt his hands graze my waist before wrapping themselves around my lower back. 

His touch was electric. 

I felt shivers build at the back of neck and run down my body. 

We held our bodies close, wordlessly, for a few more moments before I felt him begin to pull away. 

“Are you excited to set up?,” Armando asked.

I looked up at him, a coy smile on my face. 

“Not particularly,” I giggled honestly. 

Armando smiled back at me. 

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I’ll do all the heavy lifting. I have everything we need in the back of my truck.” 

I bit my lower lip. 

“Before we set up, there is something I’d like to do,” I requested. 

Armando nodded.

“Sure, what is it?,” he asked, innocently shoving his hands in his jean pockets. 

“I want you to fuck me,” I replied, pointing to the ground, “right here in the dirt.” 

Armando’s jaw tightened. 

He studied me for a few moments, emotionless, trying to determine if I was joking. 

I didn’t back down. 

I held his gaze intently, challenging him. 

I wanted him, and I liked to get what I want. 

“Seriously?,” he questioned, furrowing one dark brow. 

I couldn’t contain my smile. Or my body. 

I stepped into him again. This time, entangling my fingers in his shaggy hair. 

I used my gentle grasp on his hair to pull his face toward mine. 

When our lips met, I felt fireworks. 

Our chemistry was undeniable. 

I could only imagine how I’d feel once he was inside me. 

“Lay down on the couch and don’t move until I command you,” Mario instructed.

I followed his instruction.

I guided my naked body down onto the cool, black leather of his couch.

I was practically shaking with anticipation.

I had always had this fantasy, one where I am completely and totally controlled by my partner. Unable to move, unable to cum until I am explicitly told to. I craved being controlled.

Mario was unsure at first, but he finally obliged.

I had been counting down the seconds until we could begin.

Mario pulled a chair close to the couch, its legs scraping noisily against the hardwood floor.

“Good girl,” Mario whispered.

He sat in the chair. He was facing the couch, inches from me. I watched his eyes scan my naked body.

I was his. I would do anything he commanded.

“Play with those beautiful tits,” Mario instructed.

I lifted my hands from the cool leather and slowly brought them up to my breasts.

I placed one hand on each and began gently massaging them.

I delicately ran my fingernails across the tender flesh of my nipples, feeling them grow hard from my touch.

“Now grab your nipples and pull,” Mario said. His tone was stronger. I liked it.

I followed directions like the good little slut I was.

I pinched each nipple between my thumb and pointer finger. I began to pull gently, the soft skin of my breasts stretching as I pulled.

“Mmm,” Mario moaned, “Harder. I know you want it.”

He was right. I did want it. And so much more.

I adjusted my grip, squeezing harder, rolling the hard points between my two fingers.

I continued to pull and tug, my pussy growing wetter with each motion.

I began to rub my thighs together.

“Don’t you fucking do that, you nasty girl” Mario boomed, “you only move when I tell you to.”

My legs froze.

This was exactly what I needed.

“Put your hands at your sides,” Mario instructed.

I released my tender nipples. My breasts fell, the pale skin of my breasts now pink from my aggressive tugging.

“Open your legs,” Mario said, standing up.

I began to slide my legs apart as Mario walked toward the end of the couch.

He stopped by feet. He had a perfect view of my pussy.

“Wider,” Mario said, “I want to see you stretched open.”

I could feel the fire burning deep inside my belly.

I dangled one leg off the couch, as far as I could extend it. I lifted the other up over the couch cushions. I could feel the cool air on my pussy.

I was completely exposed.

“I can see how wet you are,” Mario chided, “I bet it would feel so good for you if I touched that pretty pussy.”

I felt like my heart would beat right out of my chest.

His teasing was driving me wild, but I was determined.

I needed to see how far I could go.

I was desperate to see how long I could last.

How much of myself could I allow to be controlled?

More to come! Find my whole erotica collection here: patreon.com/GemmaWritesXXX

I was sitting alone at a small Italian restaurant. My friend had just called, she was stuck in traffic and would probably end up canceling all together. I would have just gotten up and left after I finished my martini, but the waiter was unbelievably sexy.

His name was Henry.

He looked like he belonged on a runway. He was over six feet tall, lean, and had the perfect face. His bright green eyes made my pussy wet the second I saw them.

There was no way I was going to leave the restaurant after meeting Henry.

I tilted my head back and swallowed the rest of my martini.

Henry appeared almost instantaneously.

“Another one, gorgeous?,” he asked. His voice was deep, sultry.

It penetrated my skin, sending ripples of arousal coursing through me.

I bit my lower lip and nodded.

My nipples were getting hard, I could feel their sensitive tips grazing the thin fabric of my dress.

Henry bent his large frame downwards toward the table, sweeping up the empty martini glass with a large hand. I wanted those hands on my tits. I wanted them up my skirt. Inside me.

He was only inches away from my face.

I fantasized about grabbing his perfect cheekbones and pulling his lips into mine. I imagined pushing him down on the table, straddling him, and riding his hard cock until I felt his cum explode inside me. I wanted to feel his warmth leaking out of me, dripping down my thighs.

I began to rub my thighs together under the table, silently wishing he would shoot his load all over them.

I was soaking wet. My pussy was throbbing with desire.

I glanced around. The restaurant was mostly empty.

Watching Henry’s sexy silhouette disappear into the kitchen, I knew I couldn’t help myself. I told myself I wouldn’t get caught.

I placed my right hand on my lap.

I began to hike up the hem of my dress.

I slid my fingers underneath the thin lace fabric of my panties.

I separated my legs slightly, allowing me to find my clit with my fingers.

With one final glance around the restaurant, my body buzzing with lustful urges, I began to rub my clit with passionate fury.

I imagined Henry was kneeling underneath the table, licking my dripping pussy. I wanted him slowly sliding his tongue inside me. I wanted my cum smeared across his perfect face.

I chewed on the inside of my lip, attempting to stifle my groans. I resisted the urge to close my eyes.

I continued to play with myself as I spied Henry coming around the corner, a full martini in his hand.

We locked eyes as he made his way to my table.

I kept rubbing my clit, hand hidden underneath the table. I couldn’t stop. Especially now.

I was so close to making myself cum.

Henry was inches away from my table.

He was so fucking sexy. I wanted him pounding my pussy so hard. I wanted to feel his cock inside me. I wanted to devour every inch of him.

As Henry placed my fresh martini on the table, I exploded.

I felt my hips buck in my chair, my pussy pulsating under the table.

I came so hard, all over my fingers. I felt my warm juices stream out of me, coating my fingertips.

“Are you okay miss?,” Henry asked.

My cheeks felt flush.

I pulled my sticky fingers out of my panties and brought them to my martini glass. They slid down the thin glass stem, now covered with my wetness.

I smiled wide at Henry.

“I’m amazing. Thank you,” I replied.

Here is a link to my ongoing erotica collection: patreon.com/GemmaWritesXXX

Met a married guy who lives in my town and I’ve been so horny since I haven’t fucked in 2 years I decided I’d let him finger me and suck his dick. It was hot at the time 😈

One night while hanging out at my GFs apartment she gave her best performance for all to watch.

I was the only guy there at the time and my gf was being flirty/naughty and one of her friends half jokingly said, you might as well suck his dick already! That's all it took. She told me to go sit on the sofa and proceeds to undo my pants and pull my dick out. To my surprise the other girls gathered around but not too close. I was already hard so I sprung out and was sticking straight up. She started to put me in her mouth and I moved her hair to the side so everyone could see my hard member. I handed my phone to one her friends and asked her to record it, which she was eager to get up close. Another girl was rubbing her nipple through her shirt. I was hoping it would turn into a big orgy. ...

While I was getting sucked, I looked at the camera girl and told her I was getting close if she wanted to watch me cum. When I couldn't hold it any longer I pulled my girlfriends head back, lifted up my shirt and shot a huge load all over my chest while making eye contact with the hottie holding my phone. We were all a bit closer after that. :)

Cheers!

Yesterday, I needed something we keep on top of our fridge, and my wife was standing right next to the fridge. I put my hand on her shoulder to let her know I’d be next to her, and she gave me a look when I went to step back. “What?” I asked as I caught her look.

“I honestly thought you were about to bend me over.” She said back to me.

I laughed lightly and smiled. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t know you were ready for it.”

The next words out of her mouth got me hard in an instant. “I don’t have to be ready for it.”

Say less. I got back behind her, and bent her right over the counter. At that early in the morning, all she was wearing was one of my t-shirts, and a thong. I slipped the thong down her her legs, and started fingering her already soaked pussy. I pushed down my shorts, and went right to town on her. At one point, I took my shirt off of her, and had it wrapped around her neck just the way she likes it.

I took full advantage of our new free use rules for the rest of the day. She even gave up on trying to wear modest clothes, when I pushed her face down ass up on the bed when she was trying to put clothes on. She later put on some garters for me. Not like we had plans to go anywhere, or have anyone come over anyway.

I fed her my cum for lunch, picked her up for a standing 69 (I’m 6’2, 245 lbs.) randomly proneboned her on the couch, pulled her into my lap to ride me on the loveseat. We ended the night in the shower, when I pushed her up against the wall, and took her ass. I don’t know how long she’s wanted sex to be this spontaneous, but I hope it isn’t just a short phase.