1. Dirty Little Secrets 3: Inviting Him In


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

    destination. Mark arrives every evening to witness my performances. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I can’t make him out, but then it’s not as if we’ve had any deep, meaningful conversations. He arrives, he sits. I perform, he wanks. I cum, he cums. That’s how it is. Perhaps it sounds silly to ask what he gets out of it, but I wonder. Why would he rather sit and watch a moderately attractive 30-year old like myself than socialize with the much prettier girls his own age that he knows? I’m not silly. Obviously, there’s sexual gratification involved; there is for both of us. It just seems like such a lonely thing. I just feel that to Mark this arrangement might almost be no more than a live version of sitting at home in front of the computer, watching pornographic videos. I’m blushing. Have I just likened myself to the women in porn? No, I may not know exactly what kind of woman I am anymore, but I’m definitely not that kind of woman. I may be Mark’s little wank object, but I’m not… I’m burning up. I am that kind of woman, aren’t I? I may not put the videos out on the internet for all the world to see – just my husband – but the principle’s the same isn’t it? Or is it? Anyway, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday pass. Mark turns up punctually every evening and watches me as I perform, ejaculating when I urge him too. He doesn’t repeat his request to touch me, in fact we hardly exchange words at all. It’s Thursday, the day of my final performance of the week. There’s no point in ...
    performing on Friday, since John will be home early on Saturday. The previous days I’ve done more than just sit on the sybian, but always finished off with it giving me a fantastic orgasm while Mark looks on and spurts in the tumbler. For my final performance of the week, I always like to do something special, to get John that little bit more worked up when he returns home. All day, whenever I have a moment left over for idle thoughts, I think about my coming performance. Back home, I peel off my damp panties and the rest of my clothes. There are things to do, of course, but it’s hard to concentrate on them. My resolve has been tested all day; my ability to keep from sneaking off to the ladies’ for a quick… you know. I’ve already decided that this evening I will wear only black stockings and suspenders, crotchless black panties with a red trim, and high heels. I change into these as soon as I get home and totter about the house in them, like some wanton hussy. My mother always used that phrase as a term of abuse, but now… Someone should tell you when you’re young how wonderful it is to feel like a wanton hussy. By now I know exactly how to align the sybian (which hasn’t moved all week), the laptop and Mark’s chair. All I need in addition to these are a bottle of massage oil and the dildo John and I had made, that’s an exact replica of his manhood. Oh! I change the attachment on the sybian to the most fearsome of them all. It’s big and spherical, like a door knob. I have no idea what ...
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