Chubby Wife Used Novels & Stories

she asked, as if he were forcing her to do something unpleasant. "Yes, I am," Chadwick replied unashamedly, taking her breast in his hand and squeezing the soft flesh lightly. Her breasts were ripe, succulent mouthfuls of food for his hungry mouth. His fingers ran up and down her nipple, rubbing the pink skin with pleasure. "I missed you," he said softly to his wife, nuzzling her neck. "So fucking much."

My name is Christine Wheeler. I just got married yesterday, and my husband, Matthew Wheeler, already complained about my skills in bed, so he signed me up for the "Wife Training Camp." The guy running it was Peter Sutton. He was extremely well-endowed, the kind that couldn't fit in your mouth. Right after I joined the group chat, he posted the assignment for the day. Every member had to practice their hip movements. We had to make our ass jiggle like Jell‑O, and then film it and post the video in the chat.

She lifted her head from my dick and said, "I want you to fuck me Max. I'm still so horny." I climbed between her outstretched legs, gazing down at the dried cum of another man in her pubic hair, then slowly slid myself into my wife, being the second man to fuck her that night. Her pussy felt so wonderfully sloppy. For some reason, I relished in the fact that Kyle had his way with my wife earlier that evening. I imagined how good he must have felt being able to fuck a horny married woman who happened to be my wife and how good his dick must have felt while using her pussy for his pleasure.

It isn't locked. Of course! Her husband was a free spirit who hardly cared about his life. Sleeping in a stranger's house was bad enough. Mrs Contreras opened the door and crept in. Her husband was sadly snoring away. It's 6 for goodness sake. She ruffled her husband badly to get him up as quick as she could. There was no time to waste if Ema ever had a past here, it was foolish to keep staying anywhere that could trigger back her lost memories.

He doesn’t even spare me a glance. “Lena is not a slave, and I need her to…” “Go” he cuts me off. “The woman would not be leaving.” “But…” “That’s final. Now leave Maria.” Walter roars with laughter along with the scantily dressed women perched on his laps. “Dear me! I’ve heard about the way you discipline the women in your household, but I didn’t think it extended to even your wife.” Cheeks burning in humiliation, I hurry out of the room with Walter’s maid before Sebastain can say something worse.

“Are the two of you having problems?” He looked toward the city skyline beyond his office windows. “Yes.” “Serious problems?” His answer came quietly. “Yes.” The silence that followed felt different this time. Heavier. More thoughtful. Finally his mother spoke. “I wondered when this day would come.” He straightened slightly. “You too?” A soft sigh came through the speaker. “Adrian, your wife spent years making life easier for everyone around her.” Her voice softened. “Eventually people become tired of being appreciated only when they stop.”

I question " I am ok, what of your wife?" He ask " She's good" I respond simply " Can I speak to her" He request and I start getting offended, ' why in heaven's name will he want to talk to my wife, does he want her'- I panic for a moment " No, actually she is not around, She went to work" I inform him, after composing myself, thinking he will give up on annoying me, but what he says next sends me over the edge

This was my life and I had made peace with it. That's not me being dramatic. I mean it genuinely. I was thirty-two years old, a junior partner at Hargrove and Sloane, the legal guardian of a three-year-old who drew cats on everything, and I had not been on a date since the Obama administration. But I had a routine that worked. I had a daughter, not biologically, not legally in the strictest sense, but mine in every way that mattered — and I had a job I was good at, and I had an apartment with enough counter space to actually cook, which I had learned to value more than I ever expected.

You were not worthy. A worthy man took her ass and the look in her eye tells you that she is loving every moment of it. His cock stretches her slowly, your own scraping against the denim and yearning to be touched. As his head finally pushes through the barrier, your wife lets out a loud, guttural moan, the cock in her throat muffling the sound only slightly. “That’s it, gag on that cock while Hubby watches, you little slut.” They continue to take what they want, using her in a manner you have only fantasized possible and your hand drifts down to your crotch, grinding against your hard shaft.

The doctor looked at her with pity. “Your husband’s preliminary cause of death appears to be cardiac arrest. This type of condition is acute. If someone had been with him and called for help in time, he might have survived. Unfortunately, your husband wasn’t that lucky.” That meant, if only someone had been there to perform CPR at the time, I could have been saved. “What was I doing at the time? I was... He’s dead because of me.” I hovered in the air and watched her fall apart, but I felt nothing inside.