Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I heard a knock on my office window. By late fall night comes early and outside it was pitch black. I could hear young voices laughing and, putting my hands up next to the glass to reduce the glare, I could recognize teenagers in their cross-country outfits. It was my son, James, and some other runners from his High School.
“Dad, can you let us in, we want to use the bathroom and get some water.” James called from the dark.
“Sure thing, come around to the door,” I said through the glass.
The main building entrance locks from the outside after 5, so I had to leave my office to let my son and his friends enter. There were the usual suspects, James, his buddies Ethan and Rob, and to my pleasant surprise Violet was with them. James and his friends had come through before but never with her in tow. It wasn’t surprising, as the high school girls’ star runner, she could keep up. They tumbled into the foyer all rosy cheeked and panting, the boys all topless with their silly short shorts and Violet in her much more flattering gear. Ethan and Rob raced down the hall past me to the bathroom after a perfunctory hello. James and Violet stood before me, and once again I was smitten.
Violet was a senior, in between James, a junior, and my daughter Allie who was off to college. She was friendly with both, although sleepovers and shared female interests made her fast friends with Allie. She was one of those precociously cool kids who got straight As and was a great athlete, but who also took risks and did things her own way. She was a high-achieving iconoclast, good qualities in a person.
The most memorable event we shared together was when she got busted by a chaperone for smoking weed with Allie on a school trip when she was a sophomore and Allie a junior. It was never reported to the police or the school luckily, but there were a lot of fretful phone calls between parents. Some adults might have freaked out, but my wife Maeve and I were not that type. We knew our kids were smart, their friends were kind, and that they all would have to learn to make better decisions by making a few mistakes. The fact that we liked smoking weed now and then too also helped us continue to bless Violet’s friendship with Allie and James—she was not a bad person, period. We would even tease Violet about it now and then and remind her to be smarter.
Maeve and I always tried to get James to ask her out, but the two of them just remained platonic and we no longer pushed the issue. It’s just as well, because while I’m not an obviously lecherous man, when I’m around Violet I can’t help myself from trying to get in as many looks at her beautiful face and tone body as I can without being noticed. I don’t think I could have handled the idea of my son touching and fucking her—I’d be happy for him, but it’d be hard to be around. Now, she was before me in her tight running shorts, a running bra that hugged her chest and let a just a hint of her nipples poke through, and her long dirty blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face, with her high-cheekbones, aquiline nose, and full lips, was an example of classical beauty.
“Dad, do you have any of those snacks in the office?” James asked. We often had junk food left over from events and the kids would raid the stash whenever they came by.
“Maybe, you can check, but I’m not sure that it’ll have the best options for middle-of-running eating. Speaking of which, isn’t it late for you guys to still be out? Won’t Gillings be waiting or mad or something.”
I knew Coach Gillings was probably already gone, he trusted the top runners to get their workouts in and be safe—it was stupid of him, but good running coaches are hard to find so we didn’t push the issue.
Violet responded with her slightly scratchy voice, something that always made her a bit sexier.
“We’re juvenile delinquents, out to do crime,” she cracked and raised her fists up in mock defiance. “But, actually, I bet he has no idea whether we’re finished or not—he’s kind of clueless that way.”
“Well I do,” I said as I opened the door to my office hall and let them in, “and besides Violet, aren’t you 18 now? You could be charged as an adult!”
“Well, in that case, I can do what I want!” She said, putting her hands on her hips and puffing out her chest—I tried not to notice too overtly. She stood for a moment that way, smiled, then turned away, “Thanks for the snacks, Mr. Warren!”
The interior door to my office suite locks too, so I waited for Ethan and Rob and watched my son and the hot girl trot down the hall to raid the snack closet. My eyes were glued to Violet’s ass as she pranced away from me, her tight round cheeks pushed up alternately by the stride of her long strong legs.
When she joked like that with me, she always made a funny face, like I was a conspirator with her—sort of a half-wink. A foolish man would think more of it, but I knew it was just her manner. It didn’t stop me from recycling such moments to masturbate to, usually after a recent Violet sighting. This illegal bahis little visit, with its images of her tone belly, tight ass, and constricted breasts ready to be sprung would be fresh on my mind for quite a few jerk off sessions over the next months—starting in my office immediately after the surprise runners left.
I didn’t see Violet again for almost three years, but I came on her young body in my mind many times in the interim. I’m not proud of this, but occasionally I’d be that guy: the creep who jerked off to his daughter’s friends’ Instagrams. At least because I’m a “cool dad,” they were genuine contacts and they all followed me too—and I was very judicious in what I “liked” so no one would know what perverted Mr. Warren was up to. Most of their pictures were usually tame, certainly not the racy illicit stuff that was likely on their “finsta’s” or fake accounts, but now and then there’d be some young woman I knew as a teen, now purposely showing off a nice adult ass in a bikini or pouting their lips above ample bare cleavage. Violet’s own account had its share of those, but most her pictures highlighted her travels and social justice work. Towards the end of college, though, I noted a considerable uptick of sex-positive racier shots and messages, and appreciated the new emphasis as I tugged my cock while panting her name at least once a month.
I love masturbating and thinking about anything and everything—a lot of it taboo—but it’s important to note that Maeve and I lack nothing in our love life and are honest about most of our interests. In addition to being “GGG” (good, giving, and game in bed—thanks Dan Savage), Maeve is the most gorgeous brunette I’ve ever known, with thin long legs, an ass to die for, nice weighty C cup breasts, and a face that resembled a classical Renaissance Madonna. We are both in our late 40s, so she’s got a bit more of a belly than she wants, but I’m a bit softer than I’d like to be too. Our bodies still worked well together, though, and our minds were only getting closer when it comes to sex. Although Maeve and I are serial monogamists whose lists of conquests are much shorter than most of our peers’, our vanilla histories and conventional relationship hid a torrid private sex life.
I was the influencer. My libido, going non-stop since before puberty, had me gravitating to nasty thoughts and behaviors early in life. As a semi-closeted pansexual, I have quite the imagination and discovering internet pornography, erotic literature, and Tumblr over the years has given me a bit of an obsession with sex. Maeve started from a much more inhibited place, but together we developed through honesty and experimentation a robust set of sex practices that centered on hotwife, cuckold, and cheating fantasies, and me spanking her for being a “bad girl.” Each of these developed from small hints and broaching of taboos during drunk sex sessions until blossoming into open and frank dirty talk most times we had sex—especially after smoking some weed. From abstract ideas to fantasizing about real people and saying their names out loud while fucking, we had become sexually daring and compatible. Despite my always-wandering eye and never fully indulged compulsions—including a few secret fetishes that I had yet to divulge—with Maeve I am a satisfied man.
In one of the first frank conversations we had about sexual fantasies a few years into marriage, Maeve told me she had thought about sex with a woman before, and since that’s such an easy thing for a guy to groove on, I brought that into bed for a bit. Over the years, much more nasty behavior supplanted that fantasy, and we never really revisited it.
To be honest, my personal desire for “strange pussy” wasn’t about wanting my wife to be with another woman. Unlike thinking about other men, whose bigger cocks, prowess in bed, and alpha domination and great sex for my wife—and sometimes me—turned both of us on, women in the fantasy world were usually just for me. Even in a fantasy scenario in which one might be in bed with us, it was usually because I wanted to fuck another woman, usually a younger version of my wife with a toner body and tighter pussy. In my professional world as the executive of a major non-profit chain of educational camps—with whole rosters of college-aged counselors in training every summer and lots of facilities visits to watch them teach swimming—I had a lot of nice sights to think about. Maeve would tease me from time to time about “the girls,” and probably assumed I had my urges, but I never crossed the line or told her just what I’d do to a couple of them. My lust for younger women, an absurdly typical male fantasy, remained muted between us while we plunged into more rarified fetish territory. Violet was on my mind alone.
It was three years after the office visit, and Allie was home for a couple of weeks the summer after college graduation before she took a “real job” with low pay in the city. With James at an internship in the mountains most of the summer and our youngest at camp, it illegal bahis siteleri was nice to have her around. The three of us were chatting in the kitchen about whether her skimpy outfit was going to be warm enough for a cool summer night. It did not leave a lot to the imagination. I could have been the disapproving dad, but those guys are dicks. My heart skipped a beat, though, when Allie told us she was going “clubbing” with Violet that night and that she might even sleep over. Judging by Allie’s outfit, they’d be doing some partying and I already had images forming. Moments later the doorbell rang. I went to answer, and in walked Violet.
She was stunning, wearing a short black skirt over smooth bare legs, open laced up heels, and a shiny purple crop top that barely came down over breasts which seemed to have gotten a little bigger—something I had noticed on Instagram. Her hair was twisted into a French braid with two long curls left out that framed her face perfectly. Her makeup was extravagant, with thick eyeliner and purple shadow overlaid with glitter, I was glad that it was conversation worthy because for all her face’s show, my eyes kept doing quick scans of her body.
“Oh my god, Hi Violet! How are you? You look amazing, like Cleopatra! Where are you ladies going?” Maeve rattled off excitedly as she entered the foyer and leaned in to give Violet a tight hug.
“I told you, Club Presence in the city.” Allie called from the kitchen, “at least to start.”
“Hi Violet! How’s school,” I asked.
I leaned into give her a one-handed nonchalant hug. I was not going to wrap my arms around her. I didn’t think I could handle that. The contact lasted no more than two seconds, enough time to pull in her odor, sense her warm closeness, and feel a little bit of her arm skin. It was nothing creepy or duplicitous, just a one-armed hands-off hug. I can multitask though. While being a genuinely kind friend’s dad, I was stockpiling a few impressions for later use.
“It’s going well! Thanks Mrs. Warren, that’s the effect I’m going for, Ancient Egypt.” Violet was great at small talk, and so natural with us. She lifted her arms in the classic Egyptian art pose, and I caught a glimpse of the underside of a black lacey bra and sensed the heft of her tits against her body.
“Please, Violet, you have to call me Maeve. Zach, aren’t you going to give her a real hug?” Maeve pushed me a bit after I disengaged from the tentative embrace that preceded her King Tut pose.
“I’m not going to get glitter bombed!” I joked and backed away making pretend cleaning motions on my shirt.
Violet, rubbed her hand on her forehead and brushed it down my cheek. It was a surprising move and combined with that little sly look, it felt like a million years compressed into a second.
“Too late!” Violet laughed.
“Hah, she got you Zach!” Maeve said and gestured to the kitchen, “Do you want something to drink Violet, anything, wine, beer, water, whatever?”
“No thank you Mrs. Warren, Maeve, I mean. I think we have to go soon, right Allie?” Violet looked up as Allie came in from the kitchen. “Sorry for the glitter…Zach.”
The pause for my name was accompanied by a wink that seemed so suggestive I had to concentrate on interpreting it as completely innocent in order not to blush.
“Please call me Mr. Warren, Violet. Just kidding!” I was in dad joke mode. “It’s okay, I needed some reflective coating in case I go for a run tonight anyway.”
I held the screen door open for them. My body language was purposely disengaging, as though I had something better to do than gawk at the thing of beauty in front of me. They were leaving, this was going to be all I’d see of Violet for a while and I was okay with it.
“Yeah, we should go. Mom, dad, make sure you leave the door unlocked because I don’t have a key.” Allie had gathered her little purse (the kind with no strap—I never understood that) and the two walked out the door.
“Be careful, have fun!” I said.
“Bye girls!” Maeve echoed from the kitchen.
I took in one more glance at Violet’s sexy legs and ass negotiate their way down our gravel walkway. She was perfect. My cock felt thick in my pants.
“Wow, Violet looked sexy, didn’t she!” Meave was pouring wine in the kitchen, we were alone for the evening and it was time to get a buzz on. “Like you didn’t notice, Zach!”
“Yeah, sure, they both looked great. I’m sure they’ll turn a lot of heads tonight.” I didn’t want to downplay, or overemphasize, the effect Violet had had on me, “If they don’t freeze to death first.”
A few hours later, we were alone, a bit drunk, and halfway through a marathon dirty sex session in our living room, a place we love to fuck. By our reckoning—and based on Allie’s phone location—we still had an hour or so to ourselves. Earlier Maeve, who loves weed, and I had smoked a few tokes and we were well into some nasty spanking and fantasy play. It’s in these low-inhibition buzzed sex sessions that new ideas and practices are introduced, canlı bahis siteleri and the image of Violet was screaming in my brain as I plunged my cock in Maeve’s pussy.
We were both naked fucking in the missionary position on the couch. I was alternately pinching Maeve’s nipples and giving them little slaps. I leaned into Maeve and through deep tongue kisses, I started planting a seed.
“You liked the way Violet looked tonight didn’t you bad girl.” I whispered into Maeve’s ear as I tickled it with my tongue.
Maeve’s pussy always contracts a bit when I add some fantasy material to her edging. I could feel a change.
“Maybe you should be spanked for being a pervert, bad girl.” I lifted her right leg off the floor and raised it to get access to her ass cheeks.
“Yes, sir, I did. I’m bad.” Maeve was perfect in her role. I landed a couple of smacks against her cheeks as we fucked.
“Say, ‘spank me Violet.'” I demanded as I planted another set of smacks against Maeve’s reddening ass, plunging my cock into her in a fast rhythm. This was a new one for Maeve, and she paused for a second. “Do it, you little slut. Say ‘spank me Violet, I’m yours.’ You know you want it.”
I squeezed Maeve’s tit in my hands and forced my tongue deep into her mouth. Withdrawing it in time for her to submit.
“Spank me Violet, I’m yours. I’m your bad girl, Violet.” Maeve had let her into our play, it was a victory.
I withdrew my cock and forcefully flipped Maeve over in the brusque way she likes during sex. She pushed her beautiful round ass up for her punishment. Her posterior was her greatest asset—pun intended. It was larger than when we met, but had the same great shape and bounce. I landed hard smacks on each cheek and a few in her sweet spot between the cheeks so her pussy lips got a little of the blow.
“Say it bad girl. Tell Violet she can spank you and do what she wants to you. You want her nice young tits pressed against yours don’t you.” The swats rained down; I would have to hold off before she got too red—Maeve and I were not into hardcore rough stuff. I was increasingly turned on by my ability to share my lust for Violet with Maeve. All those little things I’ve noticed were about to be said out loud to my wife. Maeve was completely in my charge and over the top excited.
“You’d like to lift that little skirt up, and pull her panties down, and stick your nose and mouth up against her soft wet pussy wouldn’t you Maeve.” I pulled my wife’s hair back so I could kiss her. Blending rough and gentle, I whispered in her ear, “I love you Maeve, do you like it, baby? Do you want more? Do you want me to let you fuck her?”
“Yes, more, give me more.” Maeve was bucking her hips back, ready for a fucking or more spanking or both. “Let me fuck Violet, please.”
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Maybe you’ll have to watch as Violet and I fuck each other in front of you.” This was a first. Our other-people fantasies were exclusively her getting fucked, or a threesome at best. We did cuckold and hotwife fantasy a lot, but she wouldn’t know what a cuckquean was at all. It wasn’t something I spent a lot of time thinking about either—until then. I slipped my cock into my wife’s swollen excited pussy.
“Maybe Violet will tie you up, then slip her tight pussy around my cock. She’ll stare at you and taunt you while she rides up and down on my cock. Would you like that dirty girl?” Another smack rebounded off Maeve’s ass.
“She would tell you how tight her pussy was, and you’d watch my hands slide down her back and lift her up and down on my cock her by her beautiful ass. “Oh, Violet,’ I’d say ‘your pussy feels so good. I’ve always wanted to fuck you.'” I was saying her name, it felt great.
“FUCK, FUCK, SHIT!” Maeve jumped up. We heard fumbling at the doorknob—apparently our time assessment was way off. Soon, annoying repeated rings on the doorbell resounded in the house. We could hear Allie and Violet outside. Thank god I had locked the door against Allie’s instructions.
Maeve was like lightning. Before I could even find my clothes, she had put on her pants and shirt without the bra, and scrambled to the door.
“Get dressed, now!” Maeve scolded, panicked at the thought that we were almost caught.
“That was not cool,” she added, communicating her embarrassment at the likelihood of soon seeing the young woman who had no reason to think she had become our sex object.
“Yeah, I think you were liking it.” I responded and fumbled for my clothes.
My efforts were in vain. The girls rushed into the house freezing, reaching the living room just as I pulled my shirt on. I pulled my pants and underwear under the blanket I had hastily thrown over myself—I was buck naked under it. Allie rushed to the couch and pulled the blanket over her as well without noticing my state of undress, or how jealously I held onto it.
“Oh my god it’s freezing outside.” Allie scooted closer to me and gestured to Violet to come and warm herself too.
I was glad my daughter sat between me and Violet. I pulled the blanket around my legs as much as I could to try to prevent any of it from slipping off, keeping some fabric against my legs to hide my nakedness from Allie who was trying to lean into me for warmth.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32