My wife and I met and married young. We’ve been together since she was 16 years old and I was 19. She was a virgin when we married and has always been very conservative when it comes to sex. She claims to have never masturbated in her entire life (except when I’ve asked her to during sex). After having 2 kids and being married for over 20 years, sex dropped to the very bottom of her list of priorities.
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I had just had a divorce from my wife who I found out had been having an affair with one of the men she had been working with. I knew she traveled for work as a flight attendant, but I trusted her only to one day when I came home from work all her clothing and personal items gone and on the bed an envelope.
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As we entered the hall there were people both of our ages and some men had younger dates. I smiled as we were shown to our table. I swear people were watching us as we passed as mom looked wonderful and the way she swayed on my arm and held me tight it was plain we were a couple.
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My wife and I have an amazing sex life together. I know, the word “together” seems redundant but it isn’t, as you will soon see.
We are both nymphomaniacs and she loves taking my cock in her mouth, in her pussy and in her ass, and I love using her as my fuck toy. She is insatiable so she also has an amazing sex life with other men with my full blessing.
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It’d been five years since we’d been to the movies, restaurants or amusement parks… five long years since our last act of tomfoolery that horrified kids and grannies alike; my little sister — Alice.
“I need you to go out- get into trouble… study, date, party and live your own life.” I’d said to her at the airport, hoping she’d learn to make it on her own.
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I started fingering her, with one finger and then two, going faster and faster, deeper and deeper into her loosening passage while she continued moaning louder and louder and pushed my nose and lips into her folds, my tongue assaulting the tiny red glans of her clitoris.
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Damn. I really fucked up this time. My Master seemed to be really pissed at me. OK, sure I dented the car, but it really wasn’t entirely my fault. Alright, ‘Entirely’ in that sentence makes a difference. Yes, I could have done something a tad different and completely avoided the fender-bender.
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One evening, everything was as it usually was; the family all together in the living room: the father, George, 45, watching the TV, the mother, Lucy, 41, next to her husband on the two-seater sofa working on her laptop, the daughter, Frankie, 19, curled up on the other two-seater sofa scrolling social media on her smartphone, and the son, Craig, 18, slumped next to his sister idly looking in the direction of the TV. Together, but completely separate from each other.
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Meet Matthew DiMarco, a big and tall, dark-haired White guy living in the City of Stoughton, Massachusetts. While attending Bay State University in the City of Boston, Matthew met two people destined to change his life forever. The first is Stevenson Etienne, a big and tall Haitian guy with a cool, confident and very macho style.
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Nancy is a dear friend, but we never met. An online acquaintance who became a sister. She told me of the baby she is carrying, her black lover’s child. A one-night stand, a fulfilled fantasy, a night of passion with a stranger. I cried and shared in the joy of her decision to have her lover’s baby. I longed for the baby I had miscarried, my own black lover’s child. This is Nancy’s story, and my own as well.
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