Married Men Phone Sex is a great way to explore fantasies. For instance, David, the married hunk next door. He’s mid-40s, all rugged muscle, with a gray-streaked beard. Fuck I want to feel it scraping my thighs. And a cock I can tell is straining under that wedding ring’s guilt.
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Once I catch him mowing his lawn, I perch on my porch. Watching him soaked in sweat with my legs spread just enough. Of course my tank top clinging to my tits, nipples hard as fuck. Then he trips over the mower, eyes locked on me, and I lick my lips, knowing I’ve got him twitching in those tight jeans.
After weeks of torture follow. As I sunbathe out back, oiling my skin till it glistens. Then letting my bikini top slide off so my full, perky tits spill out, dark nipples begging for his mouth. So He’s washing his car, hose spraying everywhere, and I see his pants tent as he stares.
Bending over in my garden, shorts riding up so my ass cheeks hang out. And my pussy lips outlined through the fabric, soaked from teasing him. Obviously His hands clench the sponge, knuckles white, and I know he’s dying to bury himself in me.
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Then it’s go-time—his wife’s gone for some dumbass conference, and he’s out back. As he wrestles a sprinkler that’s pissing water everywhere I make my move. First I grab a bottle of wine and strut over in a sundress that’s basically a second skin. Shamelessly wearing no bra, no panties, and my cunt already throbbing.
“Need help, neighbor?” I purr, voice dripping sex.
He stands, sweat beading on his forehead, eyes grazing over my tits, the hard peaks poking through, then down to where the hem barely covers my dripping slit.
“I’ve got it,” he croaks, but his cock’s so hard it’s practically ripping his jeans open. I step in, brushing my tits against his chest, bending to “check” the sprinkler so he gets a full view of my ass, pussy peeking out, glistening wet. “It’s gushing like crazy,” I say, smirking, popping the wine with a loud pop.
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Then I chug a mouthful, letting it spill down my chin, dripping onto my cleavage, then shove the bottle at him. His hand shakes as he takes it, brushing my fingers, and I drag my nails down his arm, leaving red lines. “Wife’s back tomorrow, huh?” I tease, stepping so close my breath’s hot on his neck. “Better fuck me senseless tonight then.”
He groans, downs the wine like a shot, and I’ve got him. We stumble to my place, through the sliding door into my kitchen, and I slam myself against him, grinding my soaked pussy on his thigh. “You’ve been jerking off thinking about me, haven’t you?” I hiss, biting his earlobe. He grabs my hips, rough, growling, “Fuck, Rita, this is wrong,” but his mouth’s on mine, tongue shoving in, tasting the wine as I suck it back, drooling into his mouth.
I rip his shirt off, claws raking his hairy chest, nipples hard under my thumbs, then drop to my knees, tearing his jeans open. His cock springs free—thick, veiny, pulsing, a fat drop of precum leaking from the tip. I grip it, stroking the hot, velvety skin, then swallow him whole, lips stretching wide, throat gagging as I bob, spit dripping down my chin onto my tits. He’s a mess, cursing, “Jesus, fuck,” hands knotting in my hair, fucking my face till my mascara runs and I’m choking, slurping loud, drooling all over his balls
The Biggest cum shot knocks me down so fucking hard. I can’t help but crave the feeling of a thick, hard cock fucking me up. I want to be your filthy little secret, the one you turn to when you need to let go of all your inhibitions. I want to be the one who makes you see stars as you explode inside my filthy throat, filling me up with your warm, sticky load.
