zi**** Posted August 2 She got out of bathroom wearing a black leather-cat woman. He sat in the velvet chair like she told him to—silent, wide-eyed, hard and she handcuffed him in the chair. She brought me in with a smirk, her heels clicking against the hardwood, hips swaying like she knew exactly what she was doing. Her husband’s eyes followed her like a desperate dog, but she didn’t even look back. She undressed slowly, one piece at a time—lingerie chosen not for him, but for me. She knelt between my legs, eyes full of lust, full of hunger, full of permission. “YOU JUST WATCH,” she said over her shoulder, voice like silk and sin. “No touching.” He whimpered. She giggled. And then she climbed onto me, nails digging into my chest, her body hot and slick and shameless. She moaned my name—loudly, as her husband watched, trembling. She rode me like she belonged to no one. Or maybe she did—but only to the moment, to the thrill, to the power of making him watch what he could never have like this. “You like seeing your little wife being a filthy slut?” I asked him. He nodded, swallowing hard. “Good. Because she’s mine tonight.😈
cl**** Posted August 3 Thanks for the amazing story. So inspiring. I can see myself playing the role of the hot wife 🔥
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