How I Acquired My Taste For Fucking Other Men's Wives - Sex Stories

How I Acquired My Taste For Fucking Other Men's Wives

... liked. “Well,” she said at last, without so much as a smile. “Do I get to see the goods?” None of the girls my own age I’d been with had been so forthright, and I liked it. I locked eyes with her as I undid my belt and let my shorts drop to the floor, maintaining eye contact as I pulled my underpants down. I’d been more or less hard all day, and wasn’t exactly slack now. As cool as she was, I fancied Emily liked what she saw. “Now you show me yours,” I said, eager to prove myself her equal in these stakes. There was a flicker of a smile. Then Emily hitched up her skirt. Her nylons were stockings, and in no time she’d pulled her knickers down. We stood facing each other with our newly exposed genitals. Then Emily began to turn. “I want you to fuck me on the kitchen table,” she said. Well that was interesting. I was becoming ever more enamoured of her, having already seen something of her filthy predilections. If sex with her was going to be like this it would beat my usual conquests hands down. I followed her out of my room and through the scullery in just my t-shirt, no longer concerned that I would have liked a bit more flesh on her arse, just staring at her naked buttocks. The kitchen table was empty of stuff, making me wonder if Greg had prepared it. There was, however, no time to wonder about much, as Emily hoisted herself onto the table, reclining propped up on her elbows. I lifted her legs, wrapping my arms round her thighs and dragging her towards me so that her ...

... buttocks rested at the edge of the table. She was at just the right height for me, and without further ado, I penetrated her. People make such a fuss of love and sex belonging together. It’s rubbish. I’m sure for some people it’s the case, but mostly it’s rubbish. I felt nothing for Emily, not like that, but here she was on the kitchen table, legs spread, happy for me to fuck her, wanting me to fuck her. So why be precious about it? We were two people wanting to fuck, and fortunate enough to be able to fuck each other. There was hardly any noise. We locked eyes again. Though there wasn’t much overt reaction from Emily, there was greed, need in her eyes. If I hadn’t considered her my type initially, her sex-hunger more than made her my type, and I took immense pleasure in thrusting my cock in her moist pussy as she laid there, half high-flying professional, half ravenous slut; half determined dominatrix (at least to her husband), half literal sex object – a body laid out for pleasure, a cunt for me to fuck. So I fucked her. I fucked her hard, with all the pent up desire I’d experienced since first seeing her with Hodges, and then viewing those videos. Over and over I shoved my hard cock into her, striking the bottom of her fuck pit, my eyes locked on hers, seeing the depraved delight in them, even as she refused to give much away in terms of overt signs of enjoyment. I knew that I was no more than a piece of fuck meat to her either, but I didn’t care. It was the perfect arrangement; ...