My Dirty Fantasy Between the Neighbor and My Husband

Hello again. I always come back when I feel I need to tell it exactly as it happened, without playing coy, because the truth is, I’m not. I lead a fairly orderly life as far as other people are concerned, but during the week I become another woman, one who needs real sex, a mouth full of cock, hot cumshots, and that feeling of being satisfied for only a few hours before getting hungry again.

My husband works out of town and usually comes home on weekends. I learned to organize my life around that. I even have a second cell phone hidden away, one nobody sees, where I arrange my encounters, look through photos, choose who I want to suck that day, and decide whom it makes sense to use to satisfy myself without complications.

I’m not ashamed to admit it: I became addicted to cock. I get through Monday because my body is still tired from the weekend, but by Tuesday I’m already restless. I start to feel that emptiness between my legs, that desire to have a cock in my mouth, to open myself for someone, to feel used in exactly the way I like.

I’ve tried a little of everything. Different men, different bodies, different ways of fucking. Some only wanted to unload; others wanted to stay a while longer and make me come several times. As long as they give me what I’m looking for, I don’t complain. I like sucking, I like swallowing, I like ending up with my ass burning or my tits covered if the encounter is worth it.

Once I ended up with four men in a single day. The first fucked me just after sunrise, bending me over his dining-room table while I still had the taste of coffee in my mouth. The second came after his nap and made me kneel to suck him until he came down my throat. The third took me from behind against a wall, fast and hard, without many words. The fourth grabbed me at night, when I was exhausted, and even so I opened my mouth and my legs because I don’t know how to say no when they show me a good, hard cock.

I ended up with a sore jaw, a sensitive pussy, and an animal satisfaction I still remember. I gave two of those men my ass as well, slowly at first, breathing deeply until I got used to the pressure and ended up asking them to go harder. I swallowed all their cum. I always do if I can, because I love feeling them fill my mouth and deciding whether to hold it for a second before swallowing or do it at once, greedy, grateful, depraved.

I also had a threesome with two adult men I met through an app. They weren’t boys, as some women like to call them, but two fully grown men, eager to play and take turns with me. One grabbed my hair so I would keep sucking while the other spread my legs and fingered me until I was dripping all over the sheets. Then they put me on all fours and took turns entering me, first in my pussy, then one of them wanted to try my mouth while the other fucked me from behind. I came panting, with saliva on my chin and my legs trembling.

I don’t fall in love with any of them. I’m not looking for romance. I’m looking for cock, I’m looking for cum, I’m looking for that release that puts me in a good mood and relaxes me for a while. There is one man, though, whom I see fairly often, because he knows how to fuck me the way I like and understands that I don’t need promises, only availability.

But the story I really wanted to tell happened on a Saturday. One of those Saturdays when a stupid domestic argument ends up igniting something darker. My husband had arrived that morning, got angry with me over some silly household matter, and we had an ugly argument. We didn’t yell much, but enough to leave the atmosphere thick. Then he went out to lunch with some people from work, shut the door, and left me with that mixture of anger, horniness, and the urge to do something forbidden.

I had already been with the neighbor from the building next door once, an adult man, self-assured, with big hands and a mouth he knew how to use. On that occasion he had finished in my mouth, but before we said goodbye, he told me, looking at my tits as if they were a prize still waiting to be claimed:

—Next time I’ll come there. I want to see you dripping.

The idea stayed with me. Not because it was particularly strange, but because of what it awakened in me. The image of my nipples covered in someone else’s cum and of staying that way for a while, knowing exactly what I was doing, made me wet instantly. That Saturday, with the argument still throbbing in my chest, I texted him. It took him less than a minute to reply.

—Come upstairs whenever you want.

I changed only as much as necessary. A simple dress, nothing complicated underneath, a little perfume, painted lips. I wasn’t going to seduce him with innocence; I was going to collect on my whim. When he opened the door, he looked me up and down and smiled with the expression of a man who already knew what was going to happen.

—I’ve been waiting for you —he said.

I went in without wasting much time. His apartment smelled of freshly brewed coffee and pending sex. As soon as he closed the door, he grabbed me by the waist and kissed me hungrily. I returned the kiss, pushing my tongue into his mouth until I felt his moan in his throat. He pressed me against the wall and groped my tits over my dress, rubbing my hardened nipples between his fingers.

—I came to fulfill your request —I told him, pulling back a little to look at him—. I want you to come on my tits.

He let out a low laugh and bit my lower lip.

—And nothing else? —he asked—. Aren’t we going to fuck?

I was pressed for time and distracted, though not lacking in desire. I lowered my hand and grabbed him through his pants. He was rock-hard, outlined beneath the fabric, hot. I rubbed him slowly and felt him push against my palm.

—I can’t stay long today —I replied—. But I’m going to suck you until you fill me.

His eyes lit up. He sat in a dining-room chair without taking his eyes off me. I knelt between his legs and calmly unbuttoned his pants, enjoying his breathing growing heavier and heavier. I pulled out his cock, thick and almost completely hard already, and stroked it up and down before licking the tip. It had that masculine flavor that drives me crazy, a mixture of skin, desire, and anticipation.

I began by kissing it, playing my tongue around the head, looking up at him from below. He stroked my hair and spread his legs a little farther. Then I took it into my mouth for real. At first slowly, getting used to its thickness, letting it fill my tongue. Then I went down farther, swallowing to relax myself, until I felt it touch the back of my throat.

—That’s it, fuck... that’s it —he murmured.

I kept going. I moved my head in and out with a firm, wet rhythm, using my hand at the base to make up for what couldn’t fit all the way inside. Saliva ran from the corners of my lips. Each time I pulled it out, I gave him a long lick from his balls to the tip. Then I swallowed him again, deep, letting him bump against my throat while I breathed through my nose and concentrated on making him enjoy it.

I massaged his testicles with one hand and held his thigh with the other. He was completely surrendered now, his hips tensing now and then as if he wanted to push me farther in. I knew how to recognize the moment when a man begins to lose control by the way his breathing changes, the way his fingers tighten in my hair, the slight trembling in his legs.

—All your cum on my tits —I said, pulling him out for a second to speak before going back to sucking.

—And then you’ll clean it off with your mouth —he replied hoarsely.

I nodded without stopping my blowjob. I became more intense, dirtier. I took his cock all the way in as far as I could, let it slide out between my glistening lips, wrapped my tongue around it, sucked the tip hard, alternating depth and pressure to squeeze the cum out of him. He was moaning without shame now. I knew he was close, and it turned me on to be the cause of his loss of control.

Suddenly he gripped me firmly and pulled my mouth away.

—I’m going to come.

I stood up immediately. With both hands I lifted my tits and pressed them slightly together to offer them to him. He stood in front of me, his cock trembling, and began jerking off quickly while I watched him with my mouth half open. The first spurt landed on my left nipple, hot and thick. The second crossed my cleavage and splashed onto my other tit. Then he kept shooting shorter spurts that stained my chest and the upper part of my dress.

Fuck, how I love that feeling. Hot, sticky, obscene. I ran my fingers over the cum and spread it across my nipples, circling them slowly while he watched me, fascinated. Then I tilted my head, licked one of my fingers, and put it in my mouth to taste it. Salty, dense, perfect.

—Come here —he ordered.

I moved closer and gave him a few gentle sucks to clean his cock while it was still throbbing. I licked a little of the semen from his lower belly too, simply for the pleasure of leaving him completely empty. He grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me, tasting himself on my tongue. I was soaked. So much so that if I had lifted my skirt and put two fingers inside me at that moment, they would have come out dripping.

But I didn’t want to stay. Precisely because the fantasy didn’t end there.

I adjusted my dress as best I could, without wiping anything from my tits, and returned to my apartment, feeling the other man’s cum drying on my skin. Every step turned me on more. I went inside, looked at myself in the mirror for a second, and saw exactly what I wanted to see: a woman finished by another man, still marked, still hot, still ready for what came next.

Then I texted my husband and told him to come home as soon as possible.

***

He arrived a while later, still in a mood somewhere between anger and exhaustion. As soon as he closed the door, I went straight to him. I didn’t want to give him time to talk too much or for my head to cool down.

—I don’t want us to keep fighting —I told him, taking him by the hand—. Come to the bedroom.

He followed me without suspecting a thing. Part of my excitement came precisely from that: from knowing something he didn’t, from taking him to bed with my tits still marked by the neighbor’s cum. In the bedroom, I began undressing him in a hurry. I pulled off his shirt, opened his belt, lowered his pants, and knelt in front of him before taking off my own dress.

His gaze traveled down my naked body. He said nothing. Neither did I. I pulled out his cock and began sucking it slowly, as if I were apologizing with my mouth. My husband always responds quickly to sex; a couple of minutes of tongue, lips, and suction were enough for me to feel him harden completely against my tongue.

I licked him from base to tip, put the head in my mouth, and then swallowed him deeper. One hand at his base, the other squeezing his ass to pull him toward me. He stroked my hair, letting me work. Each time I pulled him out, saliva hung between my lips and his cock. I like that image, and I know he does too.

When I felt him truly hard, I pushed him onto the bed on his back. I climbed on top of him, opening myself with my knees on either side of his waist, first rubbing my wet pussy against his cock. He moaned when he felt me slide over the tip. Then I guided it with my hand and slowly lowered myself.

It went all the way in at once because I was far too wet. A long sigh escaped me, almost a moan. I stayed sitting on him for a second, feeling him inside me, full and tense, and then I began riding him. Up and down. Short strokes at first, savoring the exact friction against my clitoris and that depth that opened me from within and put my head in order.

I wanted to guide his hands and mouth to my tits. That was the key to everything. So I leaned forward until my chest was almost over his face. He understood immediately and caught one nipple in his mouth. I nearly came on the spot. A brutal shiver ran through me when I remembered that he was sucking exactly where the other man had come earlier.

—That’s it... suck them like that —I panted.

My husband obeyed with a devotion that undid me. He alternated between one nipple and the other, licking, sucking, biting me lightly. I kept riding him faster and faster, feeling his cock pounding inside me while his lips traveled over the dried cum and my own sensitive skin. The fantasy pierced me completely: the neighbor coming on me, my husband licking me afterward without knowing it, me in the middle, mistress of the secret and the pleasure.

I grabbed the bed’s headboard so I could move with more force. The thrusts began to sound wet in the room. My pussy was so aroused that every time I rose, it left his cock shining, and every time I came down, it swallowed him whole again. He held my hips and began thrusting up to meet me, driving himself deeper.

I came the first time with a powerful spasm, squeezing him inside me while my thighs trembled. I didn’t stop. I’m the kind of woman who can keep going after an orgasm if I’m aroused properly, and that time my body was out of control. I kept riding him, slower now, letting the pleasure rise again from below my navel like a dirty, delicious wave.

—Don’t stop —he told me—. You’re driving me crazy.

I leaned forward again to offer him my tits and pressed his face against my chest. He sucked greedily, almost desperately, and I closed my eyes. The mixture of guilt, kink, and pleasure was making me fly. Then I planted my hands on his chest and began bouncing harder, letting his balls slap against my ass each time I rose.

The second orgasm came more violently. I felt my clitoris harden, the pressure building, my whole body begging to release. I came moaning with my mouth open, gritting my teeth, moving my hips in circles over him while my pussy contracted again and again around his cock. He took advantage of that moment and thrust harder from below.

—I’m going to come —he warned.

—Do it inside me —I told him, still trembling.

I felt him come deep inside me, hot, several pulses in a row. I stayed sitting on him, taking it all, my chest rising and falling and my legs weak. Then I collapsed beside him, and we lay there silently for a while, breathing hard, sweaty, pressed together.

We dozed for only a little while, but I was still aroused. Not just satisfied: aroused. The secret was still throbbing between my legs. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I did was look for him again. My husband was half-awake, with that silly post-orgasm relaxation. I turned toward him, lowered my head, and put his cock back in my mouth.

At first it was soft, but I woke it patiently. Tongue on the tip, slow kisses, plenty of saliva, deep sucks interspersed with caresses of his balls. He looked down at me, still dazed, while I sucked him with renewed eagerness. I love bringing a cock back after an orgasm, feeling it grow hard again in my mouth, watching a man go from exhausted to needy all over again.

When I had him firm again, I took him out of my mouth and smiled at him.

—Now fuck my ass.

His expression changed at once. He knew I wasn’t asking out of obligation, but because I truly wanted it. I got on all fours on the bed and spread my legs just enough. I felt his hands part my ass cheeks, followed by his saliva falling between my pussy and my ass. He slowly licked around my anus, with the patience that drives me crazy, while I buried my face in the pillow and moved my hips backward, offering him more.

Then he inserted one finger. Then two. He rotated them slowly, opening me, preparing me. I moaned softly, impatient, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

—Put it in already.

He placed the tip against me and began pushing carefully. An ass always needs a few seconds to adapt, that delicious burn that forces you to breathe deeply and relax if you want to enjoy it. I did. I stayed still while he slowly filled me, feeling my body surrender until it accepted him completely.

—You’re so tight —he murmured.

—Now give it to me hard.

And he did. First with a steady, firm rhythm, opening me up for real. Then faster, dirtier, gripping my hips to drive every thrust into me. The sound of skin, my muffled moans, and his balls slapping against me blended together in the room. I had one hand between my legs, rubbing my clitoris while I let him fuck my ass. That combination turns me on like very few things do.

It didn’t take me long to come again. I came while touching myself, my ass full and my pussy throbbing emptily, as he kept fucking me without slowing down. I asked him for more, said filthy things to him, ordered him not to stop. He ended up coming with a deep groan, buried to the hilt, leaving me trembling beneath his body.

Afterward we collapsed, exhausted, sticky, satisfied, without needing to say much. He thought we had turned a fight into a reconciliation. I knew I had done something more: fulfilled a complete fantasy, from beginning to end, with almost obscene precision.

I’m not saying it was right. I’m saying it turned me on like few things ever have. The neighbor’s cum on my tits, my husband’s mouth traveling over them, his cock inside me, his cock in my ass afterward. Everything linked together as if my desire had written the script and I had merely obeyed it.

I’m still the same woman I’ve always been when people see me from the outside. The one who goes grocery shopping, answers ordinary messages, and pretends to live a routine life. But inside, I’m still this: a hungry, depraved woman, incapable of ignoring certain fantasies once they get into her head.

And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that when a fantasy grabs hold of me like that, sooner or later I end up making it come true.