Storyteller
- 2 years ago
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A Story About Fucking free porn video
“Am I at the right place?” I asked myself, checking the house number just one last time, before the door finally swung open. “Excellent. I’m-”
My breath was gone. I didn’t even exhale, it just disappeared.
“Can I help you?” she asked, covering her eyes from the bright morning sun. One strap of her dress fell down to her shoulder, while the other struggled to keep the woman contained. I averted my eyes, knowing that the lace fabric only needed to slip another half of an inch before she would lay bare in front of me.
“I’m very sorry. My name is Gunther, with the accounting firm, Brecker & Hart,” I said, even going so far as to close a few of my own buttons, just to seem more professional.
“Oh, sure. My husband probably called you. Come inside.”
She suddenly seemed very aware of how little her silk chemise actually covered, and awkwardly crossed her arms in front of herself to cover her bust.
“Um, he may not be back for another few minutes. Can I get you something?”
“Oh, maybe a water, I guess. Is that ok?”
“Sure,” she said, quickly disappearing from the room.
The foyer was furnished with a few small tables along the wall, but the living space she had led me into was barren. The only things inside the massive room were a singular couch and a faded spot on the wall, where a seventy inch television had once been displayed.
“We only have sparkling water. I hope that that is ok,” she said, handing me a green bottle and sitting on the couch next to me.
“I’ll be just fine.”
My eyes were drawn to her more than ever, but not due to any sense of sex-appeal. The wife had pulled a grey hoodie over her outfit, and seeing the bare cotton juxtaposed to her expensive undergarments was funny to see.
I took off my glasses and tucked them into my pocket. “When did you say your husband would be back?”
“He told me within the hour and that was a while ago. It should be soon.”
“Ah, ok then,” I told her. “Perfect.”
* * *
Waking up with a hangover is a sign you did something bad. Waking up on the floor is a sign you’ve done something worse.
That mantra rolled through my head as I stood up from the pristine white carpet, stained only by two wet patches, one from drool and the other from a bottle of whiskey.
“Be home in an hour,” is what my husband’s text said, and even though I had fallen for it a hundred times before, I put on that green chemise he liked, because he thought it brought out my eyes. I still painstakingly applied that eyeliner he liked. I still fucking thought to myself, “He will be here.”
A knock at the door sent me rushing downstairs, but the light from the sun was blinding.
“Excellent. I’m-” was all I had to hear, before I realized that the voice was unfamiliar.
“Can I help you?” I asked, annoyed. However, I soon regretted my poor choice of tone. The young man was dressed in a white shirt and blazer with two buttons undone, just enough to show the center line on his chest, but not enough to brag about it.
“I’m very sorry. My name is Gunther, with the accounting firm, Brecker & Hart,” he said, closing one of his buttons.
“Oh, sure. My husband probably called you.”
“He had work planned,” I thought to myself. “As soon as he got home, he had work to do.”
“Come inside.” The words crossed my lips without any forethought, and soon I had a strange man standing in my living room. “Um, he may not be back for another few minutes. Can I get you something?”
“Oh, maybe a water, I guess. Is that ok?”
“Sure,” I told him, just wanting to escape and grab anything that could cover my tits. Luckily, hubby left an old hoodie in the kitchen.
I knew I had made a huge mistake. “Just get him out of here,” I said, pouring a few shots of vodka into a bottle of sparkling water for me, and opening an untouched bottle for him.
“We only have sparkling water. I hope that that is ok,” I said, handing him the green bottle and sitting on the couch.
“I’ll be just fine.”
I could feel his eyes wandering over my body. It was a gross feeling, but one that I wasn’t unaccustomed to. Although I have to admit, the way he shyly kept trying not to smile and the way he wore those glasses that were a size too big, was adorable.
“When did you say your husband would be back?” he asked, finally taking them off.
“He told me within the hour and that was a while ago. It should be soon.”
“Ah, ok then. Perfect.”
As if by providence, another knock came at the door. I unzipped my hoodie, before opening it.
“Ma’am, we come bearing a candy-gram from your husband,” said the delivery man, holding a massive teddy bear and three boxes of chocolates. “He says that he’s bear-y sorry that he can’t be here, but something came up at work. He also asked us to cheer you up with a song.”
The second gentleman pulled out a harmonica and followed it with one pitch-perfect note, before having the door slammed in his face.
“Fuckstick piece of crap,” I screamed, forgetting that there was anyone else in the house. “Fuck!”
My head just hung low. I didn’t even zip up my hoodie or care that my watering eyes could mess up that fucking mascara I didn’t even like. “Well, I least I didn’t put on a bra.”
I walked back into the living room and grabbed my bottle, forcing several gulps down past my throat that was already seared from the alcohol the night before. I was so preoccupied with choking down the liquor, that I didn’t notice that the accountant was gone.
I checked the foyer and then the kitchen, where I found him standing with a glass in his hand and his buttons taken apart.
“He was supposed to be here,” he said, sipping the dark liquid.
“I promise, I am more disappointed than you are.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I opened the liquor cabinet.”
I shrugged.
“I think your husband owes me a drink, at least.”
I watched him pour a second one. “This must have been a big meeting for you.”
“It was my chance,” he said. “My paperwork is finally processed. My new office is finally ready. My chance was… This was it.”
“I just wanted dick,” I said, the vodka making me way too honest.
However, those words got a better response than I could have ever hoped for.
He had this look in his eye, not quite anger and not quite bitterness, but with force and dark desire displayed in his pupils.
His hands closed around my hips, seeming to reach all the way around and hold me in place, and my thin chemise did nothing to halt his touch.
Fingertips raced across my skin. His lips touched mine and I felt his shadow blocking out the sun above me.
“Is this ok? Am I-”
“You’re good. Just go with it.”
There was no more invitation needed. I let out a fearful squeak as my feet suddenly left the ground. His strong fingers lifted me by my waist and set me down on the kitchen table, spread open and waiting.
He lifted the silk fabric and kissed my stomach, even the little rolls I had told myself I would work off a month ago.
I pulled his face up to mine and tore open his shirt, finally feeling the inviting chest beneath the white linen and being almost scared by the solid wall I found. I was running my hands over the rigid and impervious bricks of muscles, as he just looked down at me and smiled.
Before I knew it, I felt a pressure against me. It was soft at first, barely noticeable, before coming to a head.
“Slow, slow,” was all I could whisper, as my hands fell down onto the table and I resigned myself to my fate. I knew what was about to happen. I knew what I was about to receive.
“How slow?”
“Just don’t shove it in, all at once,” I told him, suddenly silenced by a thick knot attempting to puncture me. “It’s been a while.”
He did as he was told. Every micrometer of skin that slid against mine felt deliberate, until his head was finally enveloped with an embarrassing wet sound I prayed he didn’t hear.
“Fuck!” I screamed, as the rest of him slammed into me like a freight train. Inches upon inches pushed me open in a matter of seconds.
He leaned down and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, followed by my legs around his waist. For him, pulling back was now even harder, with my weight pulling him close, but every thrust was heaven.
* * *
I could barely move with her keeping my body locked, but it felt too good to reach into her deepest fathoms.
Once, twice, three times, I wanted to keep track of how many times I penetrated her, but my mind went cloudy.
With her arms around me, she held me close and kissed me, taking the lead while I focused on forcing myself into the folds of her cunt.
“Faster,” she told me, “Harder.” It was a request I couldn’t comply with.
“I-”
“Faster!” came the order, yet again.
Stopping entirely, I broke her leg-lock and forced her knees behind her head, leaving her slack-jawed and vulnerable.
“Yes.”
I plunged in once more, with all resistance gone and no desire except to leave her red and raw, fucked like an animal in heat.
I almost stopped again, when her nails suddenly dug into my skin, but when I saw her face contort and her body shivering I realized what was really happening.
Strings of half-formed words exited her mouth, and they only got less coherent when I picked up speed and fucked her faster.
Soon, as I felt my own orgasm growing close, a low cooing of satisfaction was all she could release.
“I’m gonna cum,” I told her.
Her eyes opened wide, she yanked me down until our foreheads were touching and simply stated one singular word. “Inside.”
It was too much for me. My cock ruptured inside of her, bursting open to flood her insides with cum.
I cried out when she bit my shoulder, her teeth digging into my flesh and refusing to let go, but it just made me pump her again and again, flushing out those last few drops that I wanted to leave inside of her.
* * *
“Do you want a drink?” he asked me, finally pulling up his pants.
“No, I really need to stop drinking.”
He skipped over the broken buttons on his shirt and just did the best he could, even putting on those oversized glasses that were so cute on his face.
“Come here.”
He let me kiss him deeply on the lips and then once on both cheeks. “Was that good for you?” he asked me.
“It was. Was I good?”
“Fantastic,” he said. “I should get going, though.
“Ok. Call me later?”
“Yeah, maybe,” he told me, before heading to the front door.
I laid back on the table, drawing little circles on my belly button, while I leaked onto the kitchen table.
“Come back,” I whispered, praying for hubby to finally get home.
Being in that big house was so lonely that sometimes it made me a little crazy. I wanted to hear a second pair of footsteps around that house. I wanted a real home with a family.
“Come back,” I whispered again, as I rubbed my tummy. “That will make it so much easier to explain in nine months.” -->
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