1. Dirty Little Secrets 3: Inviting Him In


    Date: 9/10/2015, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: PervyStoryteller, Rating: 9, Source: LushStories

    of me. I completely lose myself. I’m moaning out loud and screaming obscenities that would make a harlot blush. All I know is that I just about have the presence of mind to remember to scream, “Cum for me! Wank your big hard cock and cum for me!” But I miss Mark’s ejaculation. My own climax forces my eyes shut as my body shakes and shakes. When I’ve recovered, I just about have the presence of mind to look into the camera and say, “Thank you for the lovely present. I hope you enjoyed the show!” and blow the camera a kiss before more or less crawling across to the laptop to stop the recording. Mark is already pulling on his sweats, as ordered beforehand. He suddenly looks shy and nervous. On impulse I go up to him and give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you for coming,” I say. “I’m sorry the performance was so short.” “It was amazing,” Mark replies. “You’re amazing.” “I’ll learn to pace myself,” I say, thinking that I must learn how to use the sybian so that things don’t culminate so soon. “The next performance will be longer, if you’re willing to come again.” Mark grins. “What right now?” he says. The flash of humour takes me by surprise, but I love it. “Cheeky!” I say. “Tomorrow, same time, same place.” Mark nods, pulling the hoodie over his head. He’s ready to go, but pauses, as if there’s something on his mind. “Yes?” I say. “I was wondering…” There’s hesitancy there. “May I touch you?” Barely a whisper. “Not yet,” I say. “Have patience.” Mark nods, and then he’s ...
    gone, leaving behind a generous helping of seed in the tumbler. I rinse out the tumbler and place it in the dishwasher feeling a bit faint. What have I said? “Not Yet. Have patience.” It almost amounts to a promise, doesn’t it? A promise of what? That I will let Mark touch me at some point? I tell myself I can always bring an end to this game if I want to. Mark can’t possibly expect me to deliver on a half-hearted remark. I have a husband, for goodness’ sake. But deep down I know that events have their own momentum. One step leads to another, and another, and yet another. Where will it end? The momentum is physical. I try to fight it with sound arguments, but my mind is fighting a losing battle. In the morning I find an e-mail response from John. He’s glad I liked the present. He tells me that I looked so wholesome in the dress, and so filthy as my new toy brought me over the edge. I blush. John’s words bring a glow to my body. Already I want to perform for him again, while my secret admirer looks on and I steal glances at his thick cock. Oh dear, what kind of woman am I? I’m not a sex maniac, but whenever I have an idle moment, whenever my thoughts are not preoccupied with something else, I immediately start to think about my next performance, what I’ll wear, what I’ll do. I’m being taken over by desires I never knew I had. Events will take their course. I’ve never believed in fate, but now it feels as if an unseen force has taken me by the hand and is leading me to an unknown ...
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