Dinner Turned Raw Fuck: Stranger Cock After Swingers Club Texts

Doorbell buzzes sharp. Last weekend of the month. My pulse hammers. Jean swings the door wide. Alain steps in first, that forty-something grin from the club. His cologne hits me – musky, woodsy, cock-hardening. Marie follows, her floral perfume sweet and slutty. Hugs linger. Alain’s hand brushes my ass. Accidental? Bullshit.

Living room. Wine glugs into glasses. Clink. Small talk flows. ‘Great to see you again.’ But my thighs clench remembering this week. Phone vibrated nonstop. His texts: ‘Bet your pussy drips for my cock.’ I snapped back a thong pic, wet spot glowing. ‘Come fuck me raw.’ Days of dirty chat. No time for bullshit dinner.

The Approach

We sink into couches. Jean chats Marie up, hands casual on her knee. Alain sits close. Too close. His thigh presses mine. Heat radiates. Fingers trace my inner thigh under the table. Skirt hikes. No panties – planned it. ‘Skip the food,’ he whispers, breath hot on my neck. ‘Straight to pounding you.’ My clit throbs. Nod. ‘Fuck yes. Now.’ Jean catches my eye, nods. He digs this.

Upstairs rush. Bedroom door slams. No lights. Moon glows through curtains. Alain yanks my dress off. Bra snaps free. Tits bounce. He growls, mouth latches nipple. Sucks hard. Bites. ‘These been waiting for me.’ I moan, fingers claw his shaved head. Pants drop. Cock springs – thick, veined, precum beading. Matches the club stranger’s, but this time eyes open. Mine.

Push him back. Kneel. Smell hits: salty skin, arousal. Tongue flicks head. Salty burst. Gulp him deep. Gags echo. ‘Suck that stranger dick, slut.’ Dirty words ignite. Bob faster. Slurps fill room. His hands fist my hair. Thrusts hips. Face-fucks. Tears stream. Love it.

He hauls me up. Bed creaks. Legs splay wide. Pussy exposed, glistening. ‘Dripping for me.’ Fingers plunge in. Two, then three. Squish sounds. Thumb grinds clit. ‘Gonna wreck this married cunt.’ Beg. ‘Do it. Fuck me like Jean watches.’ He lines up. Head nudges folds. Slams home. Stretch burns sweet. Full.

The Explosion

Pounds savage. Bed slams wall. Skin slaps wet. ‘Take it deep.’ Grunts animal. Sweat slicks us. Tits jiggle wild. Nails rake his back. ‘Harder, fucker!’ Orgasms build. Coils tight. Clit rubs his pubes. Explode. Walls clamp. Scream rips out. He doesn’t stop. Hammers through. ‘Cum on my cock.’ Waves crash. Legs quake.

Flip me. Ass up. Levrette. Hand spanks cheek. Sting flares. Re-enters. Balls slap clit. Phone buzzes downstairs – ignored. Marie’s moans drift from guest room. Jean’s grunts join. Cuck thrill spikes mine. ‘Your hubby’s balls deep in my wife.’ Dirty truth fuels. ‘Fill me. Breed this pussy.’ Roars. Jets hot inside. Pulse after pulse. Drip out as he pulls.

Collapse. Panting. Cum leaks thighs. His kiss soft now. ‘Fucking amazing.’ Minutes tick. Shower quick. Dress. Downstairs. Wine refills awkward-sweet. Laughs. Numbers saved already. Hugs at door. Alain’s whisper: ‘Text soon.’ Gone. Car fades.

Jean pulls me close. ‘Hot as hell watching.’ Fuck him slow after. Normalcy creeps. Dishes stack. Bed sheets change. Phone silent tonight. Tomorrow? Buzz again. Back to wife. Secret slut tucked away. Until next vibration.