My Confession by Ellie

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I am a happily married woman, but (there’s always a but, isn’t there?) I have been having increasingly erotic daydreams about a male friend that I will call ‘Sam’.

I don’t know Sam well, and god knows we are very different, but I can’t get him out of my head.

I think that he wants to fuck me. I want to fuck him.

I can’t fuck him.

I am preoccupied with the idea that he has a stick of dynamite between his legs.

It would be dynamite for me, I would explode with pleasure, it would blow up my marriage.

In my latest fantasy, he and I have been for a drink together. He is wearing jeans and a button-up, short-sleeved shirt. He looks after himself, his upper arms are muscular. His thighs look muscular. He’s muscular all over. I can’t help my thoughts wandering to what he looks like with his clothes off.

In my fantasy, we have been drinking in the daytime. A couple of cocktails together, sitting in the sun. My skin is warmed, my flesh is awakened and I am aware of my body. Every inch of it. I can feel the pulse beating between my legs. If I was to look in a mirror, I know my pupils would be dilated. My full breasts curve against my clothes, nipples announcing themselves.

I go to the toilet. I lean against the wall, legs apart. I slip my hand into my knickers, god, I am wet. I run my touch over the lips of my slick cunt, smooth, and hungry. I sink my fingers into myself, rubbing the inner wall of my vagina, finding that sweet G spot.

I catch my breath and turn, grinding my ass against the wall. What the fuck am I going to do?

I go back out to finish my drink, fingers still wet. I ask him back to my house. What am I doing? I have got to tell him how I feel. I can’t tell him how I feel.

Maybe there is a compromise.

I feel acutely alive and caught in the moment, my cheeks are flushed, I’m breathless. My words fall out in a rush.

“Come upstairs,” I say. “I need to show you something.”

He looks unsure.

What am I doing? At that moment I am unsure of myself. Have I misjudged him? Does he not feel the same? I’m about to expose myself, metaphorically and literally. There’s no going back. I lead him to my bedroom. I push him to sit on my bed.

He smiles.

Thank fuck. I stand in front of him, he leans back, quizzical, I let my eyes wander up his body. I am enjoying the sight of his well-developed thighs, straining against his jeans. I think I can see the swell of his cock and balls.

Jesus. I stand in front of him, senses heightened. His cock is more defined. I feel emboldened, empowered. I pull my top off, slowly.

What will he think of me? I unhook my bra. No going back. My breasts spring out. I run my hands over them, my fingers trailing over my nipples. I daren’t look at him. I kick off my shoes, unbutton my jeans, and shed them along with my knickers. I am nude.

He lifts a hand to touch me.

“No,” I say. I pull a pillow from the bed and drop it between his feet. I place a hand on each of his legs and part his thighs. Holding his gaze, I drop to my knees.

My hand moves to my cunt. Christ, I am dripping. I pull the lips of my pussy apart with both hands, leaning back so that he can see. My fingers find my clit which stands alert, begging for attention. I rub it. Pleasure runs though me. I bite my lip. I am so fucking horny. My heart feels like it will burst.

His cock looks massive now, making its presence known, the tip edging towards the waistband of his jeans.

My fingers aren’t enough, I need more. I reach over to the chest of drawers and pull out my vibrator. It’s a rabbit. I stand it on the floor and I mount it. Its coldness slides deep inside my cunt. The shaft pulsates against my G spot as I flick the switch. Stretching my legs wide, I grind my hips.

Sam’s hand moves to his crotch, his eyes locked on mine. He strokes his cock through his jeans.

I turn on the second part of the vibrator, the ears of the rabbit that fork around my clit. Fuck, it’s intense. I let out a moan.

It’s as if Sam has been given permission to move. He rips open his button fly and his cock springs out. Dynamite doesn’t do it justice. It stands proud, erect, glistening. Tempting.

No, that’s not what this is about. I won’t touch him. I can’t. He wraps his fists around his cock. My hands are on each of his thighs.

My cunt grips the vibrator. Our eyes are locked together. It is as if we are fucking.

He wanks his cock.

The world stands still at that moment. I can feel every fibre, every sense focusing inward, to that deep inner place where pleasure builds. My thighs strain outwards tightening my G spot, one hand finds my nipple and pulls it, hard.

He gasps. He’s close to cumming.

As am I. I am a statue. Inside I am an ocean. I am liquid. Waves spread from hip to hip. I am a dam. I will burst. I grip his thighs. Waves escape. They will break me.

His hand finds my hair, pulls back my head.

I shudder, I cry out, I orgasm. Release after release. I can’t resist. I must taste him. I take his cock. I sink my head and slide my mouth over it. I feel the head at the back of my mouth, I push further, my throat closing around it. In one long motion, I pull back, sucking hard until my lips touch the head. Again I dip my head, repeating the motion. Again and again.

I can taste pre-cum. He is close. He moans. He bucks, he let’s go, he fires cum into my mouth. I swallow. He pulls me into his arms.

One kiss, I think. Our tongues meet, our mouths grind together. We are breathless.

I am fucked.

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