My Steamy Story: I take a well needed weekend with my gir...

My Story Time:

Okay, so spill the tea on how I, a happily married woman, ended up in a Kansas City hotel suite with a 21-year-old football player’s bare dick disappearing inside me. No cap, the wine at the vineyard had me feeling some type of way, and by the time we hit the piano bar, I was in full main character energy mode. Dancing to ‘Baby Got Back’, feeling a grind against my ass—this tall, gorgeous guy named Ty. I told him I was married, bestie, I did! But then I got drunk, fell, and he ‘helped’ me back to my room. My judgment was fully ghosted by that point.

Next thing I know, I’m face down on the king bed, and he’s giving me a massage that felt like heaven. Oof. His hands were magic. I told him to stop like, a hundred times, but my drunk ass was like, ‘just a little more.’ Before I knew it, I was naked except for my G-string, and warm oil was dripping down my crack, right onto my already soaked pussy. I was drifting in and out until I felt it—this huge, hot log of a cock landing on my thigh. My eyes flew open.

“Ty, please stop. I can’t do this,” I whispered, but my body was screaming yes. I felt the head of his dick, big and blunt, nudge past my G-string and slip an inch into my cunt. I gasped. “Oh, God.” I was so wet. He paused, and my breathing turned to panting. “I’m married… and fertile.” He promised a condom. “Okay, just a quickie,” I slurred, betraying every vow I’d ever made.

He sheathed himself, but the condom only went halfway down his insane shaft. How was that even going to fit? He mounted me, and I watched in the wall mirror—a young Black god on top of me. He pushed in, and I sobbed, “You’re so big, Ty. Slow, please.” He bottomed out, his balls resting against my clit, and I saw stars. He fucked me slow and deep from behind, and I came hard, shaking with shame and bliss.

I thought it was over. But then he pulled out, cleaned me up, and his mouth found my clit. “Oh, fuck!” It was too sensitive, too good. His lips locked on mine, his bare cock—wait, bare?—swinging against me. The condom was gone. “Ty, stop, I can’t…” But my legs wrapped around his ass and pulled him in. The feeling of his bare head stretching me open was unreal. Sheesh.

He filled me completely, his balls slapping my asshole with every thrust. “Stop, please stop,” I cried, but my hips were grinding back, my feet hooking high to give him deeper access to my womb. The mirror showed it all—his dark, muscular body pistoning into mine, my married pussy gripping his bare cock. My mind was a war between guilt and the most intense pleasure of my life. “Oh, oh, yeah!” I was coming again, my walls clenching around him. I felt him tense, his grunts getting louder. “Er, er, er…” His rhythm faltered, and I knew. He was going to cum. Inside me. And my fertile, traitorous body held him tight, begging for it.