A Steaming Pool Of Valentine's Day Lust - Sex Stories

A Steaming Pool Of Valentine's Day Lust

I edged closer to the neighbor's pool, heated and steaming as my heart pounding not with fury, but curiosity. There he was, my husband, broad-shouldered and sun-kissed from his days of carpentry, muscles taut as he moved with a primal rhythm I had never witnessed before.

"Ah, damn, that's good," I heard her moan, the sound slicing through the thick air.

"Like that?" His voice was husky, different. Commanding in a way that sent an unfamiliar shiver down my spine.

I should've been outraged, but instead, a strange warmth bloomed within me. Their bodies glistened with water and sweat, entwined in unabashed desire. She was attractive, no doubt, legs wrapped around him like ivy on an oak. Her husband, some tech wizard, probably never touched her with such unbridled passion.

"More, give me more," she begged, and my husband obliged, his hands grasping her hips, guiding them to meet each thrust.

A coldness had settled between us long ago, our own encounters nothing more than routine. But this, this was raw and alive. It ignited something within me, a flicker of intrigue at the thought of being watched with the same intensity.

"Fuck, yes!" He grunted, and I saw her nails dig into the small of his back.

My breath caught. This wasn't just sex; it was a performance, and I was the unintended audience. Could the sight of me with another bring out this beast in him? Would he watch with darkened eyes, jaw clenched, veins throbbing with jealousy and desire?

"Harder," ...

... she gasped, and he drove into her with the power of a hammer driving nails into wood.

The idea took hold, a forbidden seed planted in the fertile ground of my imagination. What if he saw me like this, lost in ecstasy beneath another? Would it rekindle the fire that once raged between us?

"Come for me," he commanded, and she shattered, her cries echoing off the water, a siren's song luring me toward uncharted waters.

As they collapsed into each other, spent and panting, I slipped away unnoticed, my mind alight with possibilities. If watching him could set my pulse racing, what would watching me do to him? A plan hatched in my mind instantly that made me smile.

---

The doorbell chimed, and I sauntered over with a calculated casualness, plucking the card from the bouquet of red roses. His eyes, heavy with questions, followed me as I set them in a vase.

"Who's the lucky guy?" he asked, a forced lightness in his tone.

"Does it matter?" I tossed back, my fingers deliberately caressing the petals. He watched, something flickering behind his gaze. The candy arrived next, decadent chocolates that I let melt on my tongue, savoring each bite under his increasingly watchful eyes. Then came the lingerie, delicate and provocative, which I left conspicuously on our bed.

"Someone's been busy," he remarked dryly, but I could see the intrigue, the spark of interest lighting the kindling I had carefully laid out.

Valentine's Day dawned with expectancy hanging thick in ...