Vampire Ethan s Story About Ethan Part 1
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When Actions Score Higher Than Words free porn video
‘I’ve been thinking about you all day. About all of the things I want to do to you.’
I excitedly bite my lip as my heart rate quickens.
He continues.
‘You’ve ruined my concentration at work, you bad, bad, girl. I think you need to be punished.’
I twist a strand of my hair around my finger, trying to compose my thoughts enough to think of a suitable reply.
For once, I am thankful for our situation.
Thankful that he is not in the same room as me and that I can blame my lust-induced hesitancy on the strength of the internet connection, the amount of other people using the app right now or on some other technical aspect.
A wave of mischief washes over me.
‘You forget,’ I begin to type. ‘That I am a married woman. What do you think my husband would have to say about this?!?’
“Hmmm, I think that it is you who forgets,” he replies, without missing a beat. ‘That this is not my problem. Now, let’s get back to the matter in my hand. What are you going to do about that?’
He knows how much it turns me on, hearing how hard he gets just thinking about me. He knows that it will make me wet, that my panties will be soaked and that I will eventually have to play with myself to release all of the sexual tension that builds up between us every time we chat like this.
I have to say now that I never thought I would be the sort of woman who flirts with men online, let alone become one who shares her dirtiest sexual fantasies with them. And, if I had believed that I would end up in this situation, I would’ve assumed that it could only be possible using some form of dating app or specialist chat room.
I certainly never thought it would happen whilst playing an online word game.
Yet here I am, lusting over a man who identifies himself as Wordmaster69, in a virtual, anonymous world where I am known to him as LittleMissCheeky.
It started out innocently in the beginning. We said hello during the first game. Commented on each other’s use of triple word tiles, teased the one who lost each game. We talked about the weather, about music, food and books.
Some innuendos began to appear.
Naughty words were played to see how the other reacted.
The flirting intensified.
Soon our chats centred around lingerie, favourite sexual positions and sensitive body parts. Games went by the wayside as we spent more time playing with ourselves than we did with our tiles. I came, over and over again, as I read and re-read every filthy message he had sent me until I could practically recite them off by heart.
The first time we achieved a simultaneous orgasm online, I thought that it could not get any hotter. I had died and gone to heaven, I told him.
But then he upped the stakes and suggested that we meet up and do it for real.
I flirt with him a little longer, teasing him to the point where I know he will have to stroke himself for relief, before telling him that it is time for me to leave work and go home. I remind him that I will be busy tonight as I have friends coming around for dinner, but I promise him that he will have my undivided attention when we meet at the hotel tomorrow tonight.
Tomorrow night.
It’s nearly here.
With a flurry of kissing emojis and a final one-hundred-and-thirty-three-point word that he knows will piss me off, he bids me farewell and goes offline.
The evening and the following morning pass in a blur. I can only think of one thing, of one person. My concentration level is beyond a joke. I burn the toast and set off the fire alarm, much to my other half’s annoyance when his shower is interrupted. I send my boss the same e-mail twice within an hour. Two mugs of tea that I forget to drink go cold on the end of my desk.
It’s lucky that I have booked this afternoon off to prepare or else I am sure others would notice that I am not myself, that I am a pre-occupied, scatty version of the calm, efficient woman that they all know.
There would be questions that I would not wish to answer, so when the clock strikes twelve and I can finally depart, I feel a tremendous sense of relief.
My secret has remained intact.
For now, anyway.
I head to the nail bar first, to have my talons painted a sultry shade of deep green, his favourite colour. This is followed by a trip to the salon, to have my hair washed and piled into a sophisticated up-do than I know he will enjoy messing up. Before I leave town, I head into the lingerie shop to buy a new pair of stockings and an emergency pair of hold-ups, just in case my hands are shaking too much later to be able to fasten the suspenders.
I glance around the sexy bras, corsets, panties and baby doll nightdresses in the shop, before remembering that I already have my boudoir attire picked out for tonight. We chose it together from an online store.
I go home, thankful that my husband won’t be home until later and giving me the house to myself. I run a bath, pour in some expensive oils that will make my skin supple and smooth, then take out a razor and start to prepare myself for him, just like he told me to.
Once the bath is done with, it’s time to get dressed.
I slip into the slutty black PVC basque, the matching crotchless panties and stockings. Over the top, I wear a simple wrap dress with a plunging neckline that shows of my ample cleavage. I slide my feet into a pair of sky-high black stilettos, pull on my coat and, at last, I am ready to go.
My cab arrives on time. I feel like a scarlet woman on the journey to the hotel. I glance at my phone again, re-checking the number of the room in which my lover is waiting for me.
I have never experienced a cocktail of anticipation, excitement and lust that compares with this.
I already feel drunk with desire.
The taxi arrives at the hotel. I pay the driver and carefully get out of the car, ensuring that I don’t snag my stockings or topple over in my heels. I slowly make my way through reception, trying not to make eye contact with the staff, for fear they might recognise me or, worse still, mistake me for a high-end escort who is here to visit one of their guests for an hour.
My heart races as I step inside the lift and press the button for the sixth floor.
Within moments, I hear the ding and the doors open. I try to steady my breath as I walk down the corridor, but it’s no use: my heart is almost beating out of my body.
I stand outside the room and gently knock on the door.
It opens.
He looks at me.
I look at him.
The chemistry practically crackles in the space between us and then he reaches out, takes my hand and pulls me inside.
His lips are on mine before the door has even slammed shut.
In the build-up to tonight, I sometimes wondered if the reality would struggle to live up to the fantasy. That it might be awkward or that the passion would fail to erupt.
As he rips open my dress and bites my neck, I accept that my fears are unfounded.
His hands slip and slide over the PVC lingerie, the underwear that he demanded that I wear to fulfill his fantasy. When his fingers dive between my thighs and then upwards, he is pleased to find that I also granted his wishes of wearing crotchless panties and am offering a completely smooth pubic area.
It excites me to know that I have pleased him.
He steps back to look me up and down, to savour the moment and the slutty sight before him. I take the chance to glance around the room and smile. He has brought everything that we need for tonight.
I head over to desk, where everything is laid out like the dirtiest, most erotic market stall that you can imagine. I run my hands over some of the items, pick up the handcuffs and beckon him over by crooking my finger. I gesture to him to remove the bathrobe he is wearing.
The room is so silent that we can hear the noise as the robe falls into a crumpled heap on the floor.
I eye up his magnificent, rock-hard cock and lick my lips approvingly.
Still without saying anything, I point to the chair.
He sits down. I walk behind him and roughly fasten his hands behind his back with the cuffs, dropping a kiss on the nape of his neck before I appear in front of him again.
His eyes are fixed on me as I go to my bag and pull out my phone. I hear him hold his breath, wondering if I will take an incriminating photo of him in such a vulnerable position. I wait a moment longer, enjoying the control I have over him right now.
Then I put on the song he requested and begin to dance for him.
I will be honest, I had my reservations about this part. I told him that I am too old for such a move, too voluptuous for it to be in any way, shape or form sexy. But he insisted that this was a key ingredient of his fantasy, and as I begin to gyrate and wiggle my plus-sized curves for him, I can see how much he is enjoying it.
His cock is practically springing in time to the music, which gives me enough confidence to release my inner whore. I bend over and touch my toes, knowing how much he would love to grab my ass with his hands, were they not restrained. I put my foot up on the desk, slowly running my hand up my extended, stockinged leg and giving him a glimpse of my pussy lips, which are now glistening with my juices. I slide a finger inside myself and smear the contents across his lips.
This is a new experience for me, taking charge. I’ve always had a thing about being dominated, especially by older men who know just how to make me feel vulnerable and to take advantage of me. In role-play games, I always crave to be the sassy schoolgirl who needs discipline, to be put over her master’s knee and spanked with his bare hand. I like being restrained, punished and generally used as fuck-doll by a man who knows what he wants and won’t stop until he gets it.
But tonight, he is at my mercy.
And I am rather enjoying it.
When the music ends, I straddle his hips and sit on his lap, kissing him hard and exploring his mouth with my tongue. Then, raising up a little so that my cleavage is on the same level as his face, I slip my tits out of the confines of the PVC as he watches. I know that big boobs are very much his thing, and he parts his lips expectantly. Luckily for him, tit-play is one of my number one ways to be pleasured so, supporting the weight of the flesh with my hand, I feed my plump, swollen nipple into his hot, hungry mouth.
We’ve talked about this many times, so he immediately sets to work on ravaging my breasts, hands-free. He alternates between using swirling tongue movements, flicking the tip and sucking hard. I keep moving to ensure both tits receive equal attention from him. I am sure that I could cum just from this, but there are other things that I need to do tonight, and our time is limited.
Reluctantly, I slowly extract my nipple from his mouth, moaning as he has one last suck on it. I reach over to the desk and pick up the blindfold before carefully tying it around his eyes, obscuring his view. I watch him for a moment, enjoying his helplessness before I pick the next item: the bottle of chocolate sauce.
I sink to my knees between his legs and flip the lid of the bottle open. He recognises the sound and smiles, then groans as I take his cock in my hand and begin to squeeze the cold sauce onto his warm skin. I put extra on the head, which will mix with his pre-cum to create a sweet and salty offering, and then begin to lick it.
He moans loudly as I use my own flicking techniques to tease his sensitive flesh. Once the head is clean, I take him in my mouth, one inch at a time, until he’s pressing the back of my throat. I lock my lips around him, to create suction, and then I proceed to give him the messiest, noisiest blowjob of his life. I suck him, lick him and graze him with my teeth. I slurp on his balls, tickle the insides of his thighs with my hands and, several times, I slide an inquisitive finger between his ass cheeks.
The look on his face tells me he is enjoying this.
The size and colour of his cock tell me that he might not last much longer.
I get up and, keeping his hands cuffed, pull him off the chair and towards the bed. I grab the paddle from the desk and tell him to bend over for me, face towards the mattress. He obliges. I begin to spank him, tentatively to start with, then with mounting ferocity. My inner dominant is unleashed as I paddle his ass with one hand and stroke his cock with the other, never saying a single word to him.
I wait until he is just approaching orgasm before I stop.
If I could see his eyes right now, I am not sure if his look would be of lust or of hatred.
I turn him over and lay him back on the bed, right near the edge, so that his legs are bent and his feet are touching the floor. I unclasp the cuffs and then reattach them, his hands now above his head.
Then I climb onto the bed and sit on his face.
I don’t need to tell him what to do. His tongue is straight out, lapping at my clit at an incredible place. Now it’s my turn to moan. I sink further onto him, enjoying every sensation as he eats my pussy whilst I grind against his tongue.
When I am almost ready to explode, I slide down his body and grab his cock, shoving it deep into my soaking snatch. I lean forward, hands either side of his face, and ride him like there is no tomorrow. I fuck him with all my might, like the cum-hungry slut that I have become. I rip off the blindfold so that he can see my enormous melons bouncing in front of his face.
Then my orgasm begins and, just for a moment, everything stops still.
As my screaming gets less and my pussy stops contracting, I know that he still needs to climax, so I sit up straight and continue to ride him hard. For an added thrill, I reach back behind me and play with his balls. He raises his hips a little and I know what he wants. I scoop up some of my juices and then begin to probe his ass with my pussy-lubricated finger.
Just as it slowly begins to enter him, he loses it, big time, and I feel his hot, sticky cum flooding me.
I give him a moment to regain composure, kiss him and climb off his cock, still twitching and draining inside me.
We agreed beforehand what would happen at the end. It was decided that there would not be any cuddling or basking in post-coital glow. There wouldn’t be enough time for the cute, lovey-dovey stuff after that marathon fuck session; we both knew that.
I go into the bathroom and get straight into the shower, wanting to get myself cleaned up. I spend a while under the hot water and as I emerge from the cubicle, I hear the bedroom door open and close.
He has gone. The room is tidy, as if nothing ever happened.
I hurry to get dried off and dressed, knowing that I have only minutes before my taxi arrives. As I exit the hotel, the driver is waiting for me. It’s the same guy who brought me here earlier and I wonder if he knows what I have been up to tonight.
Thankfully, he says nothing and the journey passes in silence.
When we reach home, I see that my husband’s car is parked next to mine on the drive and all of the lights are out. I pay the driver, add a decent tip, then totter up the drive in my heels before quietly opening the front door.
I lock up, make my way upstairs and get undressed in the bathroom, hiding my lingerie under some towels in the laundry hamper. As I brush my teeth, I start to reflect on my evening, how incredible it has been and what I have discovered about myself, about my own needs and tastes.
Without turning on the light, I slip into bed, trying not to wake my sleeping spouse.
I’m just about to drop off when he rolls over and cuddles up behind me, inhaling my scent.
“Goodnight, LittleMissCheeky,” he whispers into my ear. “I think you and I definitely need to have some words tomorrow.”
Libbie
- 15.09.2022
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- Category:
- Cheating
