new experiences masturbation oral sex anal cheating

This story was entered in the “Changes” contest, but was rejected due to copywrite problems. After editing, a special thank you to Jwren, he sits on my hard drive computers collecting digital dust. Since then it has been tinkered with, so all subsequent errors are mine and not sila. I hope you like it.

I shook my head, struggling to get rid of the song I had just heard on the car radio. It wasn’t like David Bowie was one of my favorite artists, but Changes certainly applied to my state of mind, and I could not get the words from my mind.

A nervous and secret smile appeared in the rearview mirror as I checked the highway behind me.

Damn these words; they seemed to taunt me — and my business.

O0o

Thirty-six years old, marrying a bastard, and blessed – if that’s the correct term – with two sad teenagers, my life was in a rut. For them, I am an unpaid servant: the cook, the clothes and the bottle washer. Now a dignified silence, I accept insults and abuses, wondering what has gone wrong in my world. It wasn’t always like that.

Hubby was so beautiful when we met; I couldn’t believe he was imagining me. Tall, well built, and a successful manager, he vinized and dined accordingly, and waited until I was ready to have sex with him. Even though I wasn’t a virginal bride, he was only the third guy I was in bed with, and when we had passionate sex, he kept telling me that I was the only woman for him.

But that was a long time ago.

At first, his rejections hurt, but over time, I stopped worrying about it. Now it rarely touches me, unless he thinks I deserve a slap for some reason, fake or real. In fact, when I look at him slumped on the couch, his beer intestine becoming more and more clearly visible, I wonder what I’ve ever seen in him.

I found a vacancy in the hotel parking lot. Turning off the engine, I looked in the rearview mirror again, and worried eyes looked at me. Despite the happy rags and sexy lingerie, my stomach was backflips. I had never done anything like this before, and I was wondering if I could take the next step. I reached in my handbag and shook my iPhone. To strengthen my confidence, I read the last text message he had sent.

The Red Lion Hotel tonight; eight o’clock. Ask for Mr. Smith’s room.

I swear the receptionist knew why I was there. His smile was a little too polite, and his answers a little too glib for my liking. When I asked for directions to the room, she gave me a haughty look and then pointed to the stairs. As I left, I felt his burning look behind my back. Could she, like the others, see what a fake I was?

David Bowie’s fucking song.

When I got to the stairs — and out of the hotel a few metres away — I made my decision: I would not run away, even if it was my natural instinct. The first step is always the most difficult. The second was not much easier, but I didn’t stop.

With my heart pounding frantically, I looked at door number 23. Keycard inserted, I felt a mixture of dread and elation when the green light lit up. The lock broke out, the door opened, and after a moment of indecision, I entered the room. Tastefully decorated in soft neutral shades, it had contemporary furniture. Good looking. I relaxed.

As I walked past the bathroom door, I looked at the double bed. Another smile cracked my lips, and I glanced around the room. On the writing desk throw an envelope, addressed to Ms. D. The map inside contained simple instructions. I had to order wine at room service, take a relaxing bath if I wanted to, and, most importantly, have fun tonight.

O0o

I met Mr. Smith on a chat site trying to help shy, and clumsy people make friends. Widowed, older than me for almost a generation, he had been active for a month. “Hello, Mrs. D, ” — my profile name — “Mr. Smith says hello.”

The reception had not appeared until five minutes after my hanging and, without a big pause, I had answered. We exchanged jokes and we were introduced, but before going any further, I had to stop because I heard husband back from the pub.

The next day, my head was still spinning, thinking of Mr. Smith. After telling him I had to stop, he announced that he was already looking forward to our next meeting. “I’m here every night, Mrs. D so don’t be shy.”

It took me two days to snatch courage, but as soon as I logged in, “Welcome, Mrs. D. How are you today? My uncertainty evaporated like snow in the sun, and after my initial response, Mr. Smith suggested that we move to a private chat room. From there, we conversed almost every day, only missing when husband, for some reason, did not go to the pub.

Not only did our conversations occur frequently, but they also became very intimate. Within a few days, we discussed our sexual preferences, experiences and fantasies, omitting nothing. Well, almost nothing: we haven’t revealed our real names. Somehow, using my profile identity helped keep things at bay, allowed me to pretend that none of this was real. I needed that illusion.

“Do you have a webcam, Mrs. D?”

It’s not true. After asking why he wanted to know, I blushed when I heard the answer. Three days later, the boys and husband having traveled to Old Trafford football pitch to support their beloved Gunners against Manchester United, I lay down on my bed in panties and t-shirt and logged into my Skype account with my webcam newly acquired.

Seconds later, Mr. Smith appeared on my screen and, as promised, he was just as dressed. Although we exchanged photos, looking at it Live, so to speak, was very different. Not that he didn’t seem attractive; quite the contrary, he looked splendid.

Although he was in his early fifties, his robust beauty and hard, toned body made it clear that he was taking care of himself. He had good teeth, a head full of hair — the grey locks suited him — and, especially for me, there was no beer intestine.

However, seeing how good he looked, I felt a little inadequate about my soft and untrained body, but Mr. Smith didn’t seem to care, and we chatted. For the first few minutes, it was embarrassing, but I gradually relaxed — until he asked me to touch me. Even if I had already accepted this, to say that I was self-aware would be the euphemism of the year.

Because my marital bed had turned into a war zone, figuratively, I had resorted to masturbation to be released. However, this only happened in the shower when I was alone. I was going to do my most intimate act in front of a stranger.

Despite my discomfort, I started. With gentle advice and encouragement from my audience, I really started to enjoy it. Then I heard an order to lift my t-shirt. I made and received nice compliments on my breasts.

“Now, lose your panties.”

For the first time in years, I was naked in front of someone. I feared a derogatory comment, something I had gotten used to in recent years, and it came as a surprise when Mr. Smith told me how gorgeous I looked. Because of my low esteem, I wasn’t entirely convinced, but he showed me the bulge in his boxers. My confidence has skyrocketed.

After revealing her erection, I stroked my and was surprised by my moisture. When he started masturbating, I thought, “I caused this… It’s just me. No page three girl, no porn, just little old me.

I followed his example, and we lit up until we orgasmed. I came first. My screams resounded around my room as I lay down on the bed, shaking uncontrollably, my fingers covered in cum as I watched him pull his cock.

Moments later, he ejaculates, slaning a massive chain of sperm on his belly. Seeing him reach his peak like that was amazing, and knowing that I was responsible for it was even more special. After years of neglect, I felt desirable. Then, in the glow that the lovers share, we talked, and that’s when I confessed my deepest, darker, dirtiest little secret. I waited for his conviction.

“Mrs. D, I’d like to do that to you. Do you want me to fix it?

I hesitated before answering. Not because I didn’t want it — I certainly did — but being unfaithful on the digital highway was one thing; doing it for real was different. There was so much to consider. Flustered, I told Mr. Smith that I would think about it, and disconnected before he may try to convince me to agree.

I needed some time. Remember, please. it didn’t take long. The next day I sent him a short text message: Yes.

O0o

Despite the music coming from the television, I heard the click of the lock and i held my breath. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and nodded. Although I’m not a beauty queen, my appearance was pleasant. My dark braids were swept back and held in a loose ponytail, and I had kept my makeup to a minimum: nothing to alarm it, but enough to improve my features. However, I was nervous about my outfit, especially my underwear.

For my conservative mind, it was something a slut would wear. However, the young friendly assistant at the Hunkem-ller store had assured me that it would set my man on fire. I didn’t tell her it wasn’t for my husband’s benefit – no point complicating things. Looking at me dressed in lace lingerie, stockings and suspenders, I hoped she was right. In fact, what I had planned was certainly not conservative.

Sitting on a chair, I had provocatively swung one leg down on my arm. Although we discussed a lot about what would happen, I wanted to impress Mr. Smith with my sophisticated manners. I had practiced this pose after seeing it on the Internet.

Mr. Smith entered the room, his presence filling the small space, and I beamed upon him, though behind the smile I trembled like a leaf. He was so handsome; I still couldn’t believe he wanted me. I tried to imagine it as I had seen it so many times since that first time on Skype; naked and lit. The adrenaline went through my veins.

Undeterred by my fears, I caressed myself through the tiny lace triangle, eliciting a wink of approval and an ironic smile. Although this was our first encounter in the flesh, we knew each other intimately.

Mr. Smith liked his women to be strong and independent, all the things I’m not. He wanted his women to recognize and embrace their desire, to initiate, to appreciate their sexuality and, above all, to explore their limits and to embrace their desire. Although I was ready, I was none of the above. Instead, I was petrified that he would see me for the fraud I was.

Then Bowie’s choir Changes came back to me. Oh, yes, indeed. That’s what I want.

My confidence grew, my smile grew, and I knew it. I could do it. Emboldened, I slipped my fingers into my panties. “I await you, Mr. Smith … impatiently, I might add.

My was very wet. I traced the length of my split.

“Yes, I’m sorry for my delay, but I thought it was better to give you time to get ready rather than barge in like some rude oaf. Forgive me, my dear, but I’m going to make it worth your time. Her warm smile sent the butterflies inside my stomach into overdrive. He approached, his cologne competing with my musky scent as a hand drifted along my exposed thigh. “You look amazing, Mrs. D. To be honest, I have a hard time containing myself. All I want to do is rip these delicious clothes out of your body and delight you.

These words sent me a wave of excitement in my spine.

“But, first. You know what I want.

I looked into his pale blue eyes and nodded the horechi. While stroking my leg, he took off his pants and dropped them at his ankles. He had become a commando, and I screamed with joy when his erection came up towards me. Licking my lips, I wrapped my free hand around the hot tree and leaned forward.

As soon as my mouth encompassed his manhood, stable fingers intertwined in my dark locks. A low growl filled the room as I teased him with my tongue, something else I had searched on the Internet. While I was trying to remember what I had seen, I raised and lowered my head. Then, after almost choking when I tried to deep throat, I removed his cock from my mouth and looked up, looking into his eyes.

“Would you fuck my face, Mr. Smith?”

His eyes shone, and he nodded it. “Open wide, Mrs. D, and I will be happy to oblige.”

I knelt in front of him. He closed his eyes and threw his head back when I again clenched my lips around his throbbing tree. Holding my head, he pushed his hips.

“Oooh, you dirty little whore. Not sure how long I’ve been wanting to do this to you.

His rhythm accelerated, and his fingers pressed my scalp. It took a few seconds, but he found his rhythm and his cock slipped gently between my lips. Then, in a surprising move, he pulled her out of my hot mouth and slapped my cheek with it. “Come on, bitch, tell me how much you want this.”

I had never been talked to like that, but in one of our conversations I had confessed that I was wondering what it would be. Now, hearing this urban man talk like that, I felt so excited. All I wanted was to please him.

“God, yes. Give it to me, I gasped. “Please let me suck until you fuck my whole face.”

The wink of approval and the way he pulled me to his groin, indicated that I was doing this right.

“Hang on, whore,” he growls, pushing his cock into my mouth. I reached behind him, cut his buttocks, and the growls and moans increased in intensity.

“Yes, yes, that’s all. Don’t stop. Uuugh, I’m cumming.

I felt his sperm rise in its thickening, nagging as it removed it from my mouth. “Open wide, whore,” he ordered, and placed his engorged helmet on my lower lip and stroked his meat. He dropped a loud, tense moan — then the first salvo of splashed on my face, covering my cheek and my glasses. He corrected his goal and shot into my open mouth.

Another loud moan filled the room, and Mr. Smith shuddered as even more sunbed stolen. Some have joined the hot and thick deposits decorating my face, such as salt icing, while the rest has disappeared into my throat or splashed on my chest. As the last drops oozed from his little hole, I took over, guiding his throbbing limb between my luscious lips. He shuddered again when I flicked my tongue on his swollen acorn and lapped away the remnants of his powerful ejaculation. My new lover, unable to take much more of my greedy mouth, recoiled to regain control.

“Mrs. D, you are a really gifted pipe princess. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, send them to me.

The satisfaction I felt at having done something good was more rewarding than I could have imagined. Using my fingers and tongue, I cleaned all the cream I could find, including the spoonfuls on my glasses. When I got up, I’m sure I was radiant.

Mr. Smith looked at me and nodded la la va. “Okay, I had my pleasure. Now it’s time to get down to your dark fantasy, Mrs. D… if you’re still sure that’s what you want?

In the midst of the whirlwind in my mind, David Bowie, singing about my fascination, what changes I go through.

Holding my breath, I nodded and walked to the bed. I looked over my shoulder and flashed Mr. Smith, my most became a smile. Then I leaned forward, put my hands on the firm mattress, and waved my hips before provocatively thrust my at it.

Even though he had just ejaculated so powerfully, his cock was still standing at attention and trembling at my display. A deep rumble of Neanderthals rumbles around the room, fueling my growing expectations.

“Hmm, it looks like you’re ready to play, Andrea.”

He approached and hung his fingers in the belt of my panties. I waited, praying, and my excitement increased when he pulled my panties off my buttocks and down my lower-clothed thighs until they gathered at my ankles. Behind me, another caveman moaning broke out, stimulating my ego. I desperately needed that encouragement. I was so nervous; I was afraid of throwing up and ruining everything.

“Spread your legs, my dear. I want to look at your juicy cunt. The vulgarity of his command thrust another shiver down my spine, and I tried impatiently to obey, but my panties tangled around my high heels and almost sent me tumbling. When I mumbled excuses for being so clumsy, his quiet words of encouragement – and strong hands gently stroking my buttocks – helped me keep together.

This is the kind of incident that kept me on edge, with the fear of him realizing that I was a fraud. Mentally, I was about to lose him: everything I had done up to that point was not the real me. I wasn’t an expert dick sucker or porn princess ready to please her audience. I was me, dull old Mrs. D.

All I had done so far was a courtesy of the internet. I had passed every Free time watching porn video clips to learn what I should wear and how I needed to behave. Although my research has been thorough and sometimes frightening — roosters can be That big? I was myself in case I did it or said something that revealed me as a charlatan. What if he did something I didn’t plan? What would I do then?

As I chewed my lower lip, I looked back and saw Mr. Smith kneeling. Before my uncertainty betrayed me, he televised me, and I saw lust in his eyes. No man had ever looked at me like that. Now he directed his gaze at my sex, and I felt my open to him.

“You’re beautiful, Mrs. D. Really beautiful.”

He pressed an inch against my wet entrance and traced the length of my split. It was not the uncertainty that made me bite my lower lip at the time. And a gentle moan escaped from my mouth when it plunged into my hole.

“Hmmm, your cunt smells so good that I can’t resist it,” he says, removing his thumb and replacing it with two fingers. They penetrated deeper and allowed him to press his thumb against my other hole. He spit. The hot saliva landed where he wanted and, after rubbing the spit in my dark ring, his thumb also disappeared from view.

The way he fingered me was like nothing I had known, and I was soon out of breath. He must have liked my screams because, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, his tongue joined the fray. In a gentle movement he took off his thumb, cut off his tongue between my lower lips, and licked the length of my opening and beyond. My moans now compete with obscene slurping sounds, and I knew that was what I wanted.

When the tip pressed into my creased, it pushed against my sphincter, and a whole new sensation swept over me. It was one of the things I had asked him to do, but I was not prepared for the physical responses that crashed through my body during this oral invasion. He ignored my screams and swirled his tongue in me. This analingus almost sent me to another planet. It continued the assault longer than I expected – but shorter than I wanted. When he gave in, I was very close to orgasm.

“You’re here, Mrs. D get this beautiful and wet so we can play with it.”

Like a magician, Mr. Smith produced a nice cap and held it in front of my face. Although the glossy and chrome den end shone brightly, it was overshadowed by the pink crystal top. I was in uncharted territory now.

In all the clips I had watched, not a single featured an take, chrome or other. But what Mr. Smith wanted me to do was not exactly sorcerer. I looked at the toy for what seemed an age, unable to suppress the childish shiver inguped over abounding through my body. From my first point of view of anal sex, I wondered what it would be like, but had never dared to try it. Definitely not with my husband’s pig. Several times I had waved a finger at the “buy” button as I looked at the butt caps on the websites. However, the fear of what would happen if husband found them, prevented me from making a purchase.

I took Mr. Smith’s cute shiny anal toy and sucked it into my mouth. Turning to him to face – and despite my insecurities – I made a production of what I was doing, claiming that the cap was a tasty lollipop. He looked with distinct pleasure as I sucked and licked obscenely, only stopping me when there was enough lubrication.

After taking me, I looked forward to my first real experience. Mr. Smith knew how much this meant to me, and he did not tease. It held the shiny chrome dot against my creased hole.

“Spread your cheeks,” he said. I put my head on the mattress and reached my back, my fingers pressing my buttocks. I couldn’t help but close my eyes as he pushed the grip further inside, turning it slowly. And that’s when I felt her erection snuggle between my lips. I gasped like the thickest part of the plug pushed in front of my sphincter, and Mr. Smith’s cock jumped into my silky tunnel.

It was a first night. It was the first time that something more substantial than a finger had entered my ass, and it was the first time since my marriage that I had the cock of a stranger in me. For years, I had wanted both, but I never had the nerve to do it either.

Now I didn’t know what I liked the most: the way my eldest, my new friend’s big cock was fucking life out of me, or the way the cork nestled deliciously inside my ass. Mr. Smith’s cock was not only longer than my husband’s, but it was also much thicker. With each constant thrust, he stretched my cunt deliciously, and I felt every prominent vein on his manhood when I squeezed my abdominal muscles around the delicious, thrilling intrusion.

I wasn’t the only one having fun. My date emitted a primitive growl every time he crushed his pelvis against my preaching, and the sound sent shivers into my spine. It was so delicious; I didn’t want it to stop. When he stopped pushing, I pushed my into his pubic hair, ready to keep hitting me. I couldn’t help it. I was insatiable.

“Mr. Smith…” I cracked like my throat dried in anticipation. “Mr. Smith, I think it’s time, isn’t it?”

A laugh came from behind, followed by a playful slap on my rump. “Oh, yes … you are ready, my dear, he said and removed his cock from my warm silk sheath. Then he removed the socket.

Hmm, I wish you could see your gaping like that, he said, his smooth, aristocratic behavior showing rough edges. Suddenly there was a flash and a click ingel. Then he handed me his phone. “Here, look.”

The picture was of my open holes, both sparkling with my juice. It was quite shameless and incredibly excited. As I studied my carefree anatomy, Mr. Smith directed her to my back entrance and entered me. He must have heard me gasping or seeing how I threw the smartphone aside because his next question was unexpected.

“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“Oh yes,” I cried, nodding enthusiastically. I flashed a greedy smile at him and watched the anxiety in his eyes turn into intoxicating lust. His helmet pressed harder and knowing what to expect, I relaxed. Finally, the large mushroom-shaped dome passed through my sphincter and slowly up to my back passage. I moaned.

My Smith, always the considerate gentleman, stopped moving and waited for me. Although the burning sensation was more pronounced than with the cap – given the size difference, it was understandable – it was not unbearable. In fact, it was amazing. I gave him another sudden wink, his signal to continue. He started feeding his cock again in me and, despite having to bite my lower lip to avoid screaming, it was all I expected and more.

I lost track of time by turning a blind eye and surrendering to Mr. Smith’s perfect manipulation. His hands were wandering on my lower body while his dick continued to invade my ass. I reached between my legs and pushed two fingers inside myself. Touching its hardness through the thin barrier that separates us, caused another electric shock reaction during my body.

Then Mr. Smith offered a low-key cough. “Mrs. D, you took my dick all the way.”

Timid That’s not possible.

My mind receded from his statement before I realized it was true. Her nervous pubic hair was stuck between our heaving bodies, tickling my sensitive skin, and that meant…

A huge sense of pride overwhelmed me. In all my research, it was remarkable how many of these porn queens were having trouble making anal. It was obvious that most of them did not like it. Only a minority showed enthusiasm for it, and few of them took the really huge cocks all the way. Remember, when I remembered the size of some assholes, a shiver ran down my spine. Although Mr. Smith’s manhood could not be called small, it certainly seemed undersized compared to those I had seen on my computer.

“You are a natural, Mrs. D,” he continued, wiggling her hips. His hands rested on my buttocks, and he retired slowly. To tease me more, he then pushed forward, then a little more before pushing forward again, but not quite as far as the previous time. He continued until only his helmet engorged in me. Even though I had enjoyed his little game, I wanted the real thing – and I wanted it Right now.

Stop playing with me, Mr. Smith, me.

I stuck my fingers in my cunt and waited impatiently. As I heard, “You asked, bitch,” his cock slammed deep into mone, the force almost push me into bed.

“Yes,” I whistled. That’s what I wanted. With every fiber of my body screaming for more, I pushed back against my new lover and tightened my abdominal muscles. He answered in kind and pulsated him mightily into me. Then he retired, not slowly, but with authority and deliberation, before pile-driving his cock in my ass. That was the real beginning. His cock moved back and forth, stretching me, filling me, making me cry with joy. He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back while fucking me, increasing my pleasure a hundred times.

“You like rough things, don’t you, Mrs. D?”

Hearing my choked moans every time he pushed his cock inside me, obviously lit, and when I nodded, his assault became more intense. Then he almost made me dissome by completely removing his cock.

“No,” I cried, “but there was nothing I could do.

“Go ahead, slut,” he ordered, before changing his mind. “No, turn around and face me.”

I complied and came face to face with his hard rage on. “Suck it. Show me how much you want me to continue, or else…” Grinning nastily, I pretended I wasn’t going to do it, but it was an empty threat; and we both knew that.

My new lover couldn’t stop, because he enjoyed it as much as I did, but… Sham plus, I nodded and finally opened my lips beautifully made-up. Mr. Smith smiled triumphantly down at me and grabbed my head as I swallowed the thick, purple dome. I’ve seen that. cul-à-mouth on the video, and I thought, “Euughh” the first time – but that was a long time ago. The more I looked at it, the more curious I became until I decided to try it… if I ever get the chance.

Mr. Smith’s cock filled my mouth, and I swirled my tongue around his flesh. The tangy flavor was a pleasant surprise, and it wasn’t long before I drooled. When he was satisfied with my efforts, he removed his saliva-covered tree and told me to stay exactly where I was.

“That way, bitch, you can watch yourself get fucked in the mirror.” He was right. Although I had used it while preparing, I had forgotten the mirror being there, not that it occurred to me to look at me being caught, in the or otherwise. Although I am not an exhibitionist, seeing Mr. Smith position himself behind me has given the experience a whole new dimension.

He got rid of all the kindnesses. This time he simply placed his cock at the entrance to my back pass and slammed the house. The ferocity took me by surprise, but did not disappoint me at all. Then he fucked me, hard and relentless. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head so I had a good view in the mirror. Our reflection was both shocking and a huge turn on.

The face that looked at me, contorted by lust and depravity, was mine, but so unfamiliar. My eyes were half open, or half closed, depending on your vision of life, and the corners of my mouth rolled down, the expression of a carefree slut.

When I heard Mr. Smith’s crude obscenities, the things he called me, when he — well, you get the picture — just made the whole experience incredible. When I moaned, he asked me if I liked getting my ass fucked. And when I moaned in response, a scathing slap was ringing around the room. With each violent push, my body trembled, and I was glad it was clinging to my hips. Otherwise, we could have landed on the ground.

“Oh, my God, I’m going to come, Mrs. D.”

“Don’t stop,” I begged, “and I reached between my legs.” I fingered myself, moving my hand as violently as Mr. Smith’s cock plunged into me. “Please don’t stop,” I cried, “I’m so close.”

A grunt came from behind me, and I increased both the pressure and speed of my hand, but it wasn’t good. It doesn’t matter how hard or often you press the button, the elevator won’t come faster.

“I can’t help it, bitch. Hell, I’m cumming.

I. closed his eyes and made it to his peak. In an intelligently executed gesture, Mr. Smith buried his deep inside me while pulling me against his pelvis. He stretched out, his cock widened, then his hot cum scalded my bowels. I clenched my teeth and abdominal muscles, feeling his manhood pulse, spitting his thick cream in my. His body shook, forcing his cock even deeper for a split second, and I felt invincible. I looked at my reflection in the mirror – tousled hair, eyes filled with lust, stained lipstick – and I knew that life could never be the same.

Whatever happened after tonight, I couldn’t be Andrea again, mother of two sad teenagers, the oppressed, browbeaten, and unloved woman.

I was now Ms. D, unfaithful fornicator, pipe princess, and extraordinary anal slut.

And David Bowie’s words about time and change have continued to flow in my mind….

This story is protected by international copyright law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found displayed anywhere other than Xnxxtoys.com with this attached note, it was displayed without my permission.