This story relates to my wife rittu with whom I got married in 2004 and before my marriage I used to fuck lots of prostitutes of all age .I had a special prostitute named muskan and she use to give me a wild sex giving me all positions to fuck and eshe even used to allow me to fuck her ass and used to take all my cum in her mouth.After my marriage with rittu I stopped seeing muskan or any other prostitutes and was enjoying the sexy body of my younf wife.Rittu was however not accomplished in giving me wild sex as muskan used to do and even rittu had great diccultity in taking my dick in her mou... Continue»
I sat looking around the room, people were talking, some louder than most, a mixture of noise and laughter, and amongst it all I sat bored out of my skull.
I was tipsy and felt in need of a good fuck, a room full of cock and cunt desperate to mate once the talking stopped.
I hiked my hemline a tad higher on my stockinged legs, may as well get in there first, better to have a shag with guy still capable to get it up, than wait for some piss-pot with 'Brewers droop', lying on top of you.
The last time I went to one of these events I finished up going out to get relieved, asking the valet to get the car, then following him to the car and offering him money to fuck me.
Empowering these lower class cocks for sexual gratification, has rightly earned us the title of frustrated rich bitches.
Funny thing is, my husband tipped the same guy for doing his fetching, not realizing my pussy seeped with the mans cum, what a cuckold.
Yes we rich bitches live a pampered life, one off scented baths and oils, shopping and parties, but beneath the facade, the basic need of copulation burns bright in our souls, and in our loins, the boredom and tedium of having nothing to do but think and feel the burning desire of the lower classes, the woman, envious of our style, and their men, of just fucking us, and right now having shag, would suit me fine, thank you very much.
'Excuse me maam, I did not see him and he surprised me, the waiter stood over me, having seen my champagne glass was empty, moved in with the dexterity of a r****t, and peered down my open top, no doubt my tits fascinated him.
I handed him my glass and waited until he handed me my refill, 'What's your name', I queried, 'James, maam', he replied, 'and how old are you James'?
My hungry eyes traversed his form, juxtapositioning between his face and crotch. His eyes I found were attractive, but it was for some flickering of life in his crotch, that I really searched for.
'18 maam', he replied swallowing hard. 'Half my age', I thought, he will do nicely.
I noted his 'Addams Apple' bobbing up and down, a sure sign of a males interest in mating, a lesson well learnt at my upper-class schooling establishment, at thirteen they felt it prudent that young girls should learn about the fact that men just wanted to fuck us.
He stood a little longer, nervous and captivated, I mean I was one of the more attractive females here, exuding a sexual aura of a woman in heat, my cunt was wet with anticipation and his cock was young and healthy.
'James', I looked directly at him as I seductively uttered his name, a faint hint of the mothering, a hint a woman of my age can radiate to a young man, drawing him into my wiles, I mean a mother knows best when milking a son, drawing the fruit of his loins through his fleshy straw, 'Would you like to fuck me'?
My question hung in the air, its duality exciting his inner ear, and the imagery of my cunt being reamed by his cock, each plunge into my pleasure hole, basting his shaft with my warm lubrication, subjecting his cock to be massaged and titillated by my tight inner workings, that only a God could envisage, and the engineering of a woman's Venus Fly-Trap, a wondrous organ, designed specifically to trap a man's cock.
The culmination of a woman's seductive organs, my mouth formulating the words, 'Fuck me', and my cunt sucking the cum from his balls.
I rose at his hesitancy to answer my mating call, 'Come with me', I said, an order that belied my desperation to mount this boy, and as I strode to the doors leading onto the balcony, I could feel my own response swelling and lubricating, as I flowed freely in expectancy of a young buck's ability to quell my fires, once I was prostate across one of the many tables, to the far side of the balcony.
I held the door open for him to pass through, which he did and I followed in haste.
I drew ahead of him and lifted my skirts, exposing my stockings as an inducement, but then tore my panties off, exposing my buttocks to him whilst walking, their creaminess an inducement, an enticement, as each cheek danced between the framed silk of black suspenders and stocking.
'Get your cock out and fuck', no room for flowery dictate, for this mating was one of urgency, I could feel myself on the edge, all I needed was to be filled and feel this young buck inside me, hump a little, and feel this evening worthy of my attendance.
The boy was terrified, he was about to mount the host's wife, his intellectual property, being usurped and pleasured as he guffawed in the next room, unawares his beautiful wife was being fucked, to her delight some 30 feet from where he held court.
His grip on my hips and buttocks was firm as he pleasured me. His cock was like a well oiled piston, it's length and girth, worthy of mounting a woman of nobility.
Men of my husbands character were of less meat and more hot air, no wonder we sought the loins of youth in back alleys and massage palour's, open air gratification, a sport made popular amongst women of breeding, initially more necessitous for new bl**ding into ancient stock, but now more for having a good fuck, than breeding, how else could we endure our sexless existence.
Gratified I stood upright, feeling him flow from me, my cunt muscles too weak to contain it, as it flowed and gathered on my silk stocking tops, staining the fabric, tomorrow my house girl will wash it off, all staining from my womanly parts are massaged clean in warm soapy water, she is an after thought, reliving the pleasure extracted from her b*****r perhaps, now would that not be an irony.
He had tucked his manhood back into his pants, 'What are you doing', I asked him, 'Take your cock back out'.
It's a wondrous sense of power bequeathed upon the nobility of this land, to order another to expose themselves for our gratification.
Indeed I remember house-girls being stripped by my husband, girls denied conjugal rights, to men, incarcerated in our homes, then fraudulently accused of some made up crime, to be exposed and abused, paddled or caned.
In exposing their buttocks to my husbands eager hand, one can only imagine these girl felt having a man so close to their privates.
The wetting of their tight cunts, was an inducement for their master to satisfy, their swollen bellies bearing testimony to his active constant punishments.
I held his cock in my hand, its length hanging over the end, and I fondled it with the satisfaction of having possessed it for such a short time.
Holding him I asked him if he enjoyed taking me, and as he pondered his answer I lifted my skirt once more to show his seed on my undergarments, I could feel him stir once more, as young bucks do at such an age
'If I pay you a handsome sum, can I induce you to take me in the anus'?
His mouth hung open and as it did so, I reeled him in closer, by tugging on his long flesh closer to my crotch, running its head between my wet lips, the warmth of my cunt an inviting haven in the chilly night air.
My bad mouthing and secret warmth enlivened his meat to rise up against me, I had no time to lose and turned away from him, bending and guiding him into the most cherished and delicate of acts.
I could not help myself as his full length pushed hard against the back of my pubis, an area too high for my own probing fingers to massage, so the use of a long penis in there, is worthy of the cost borne by the inducer.
Upon withdrawal, I produced my torn panties and cleaned his length, before presenting them to him as a reward for his endeavors, not many men can produce a pair of panties as a trophy, as most of our underwear carries our names embroidered on the label.
I returned to the party, more relaxed and gratified, still seeping still clenching some imaginary cock thrust up my anus, bowing here and courtseying there, and as I rose serenely, my eye caught another young buck, with serving tray, it appears my buttock clenching was in need of more gratification, me thinks it's time to feed more sausage into the meat grinder.