Sex stories

After work, I was walking home when I passed a guy on a bike. Didn’t reward much attention… but a few minutes later, he came back and stopped me like a gentleman.

Tall, probably in his forties, muscular, wearing a tank top that showed off his hairy chest—a real man. I’m the opposite: slim, short, brunette. The contrast hit me right away.

We exchanged numbers, and a few days later, he came over to my place. We had a soda, things felt easy. We ended up lying on my sofa bed, watching a show, legs brushing. Then he pulled me in and kissed me deeply. I melted into him.

We got naked, body to body. His heat, his scent, his rough stubble on my skin—it woke up the submissive in me.

He rolled me over and started eating my hole slowly, sensually. I moaned—I fucking love that. He came up, kissed me again, held me tight. He could feel how turned on I was, but he whispered:
“Take it slow. We’ve got all night.”

We ended up falling restp in each other’s arms, naked.

But in the middle of the night, I felt his hand between my cheeks. He was hard. Horny. His fingers teased my hole again. That alone had me ready in seconds.

He spit on my hungry hole, lined up his raw cock—and pushed in. No condom. No warning. Just raw, thick, hot dick deep inside me.
The feeling? Indescribable. Intense. Addictive.

He looked at me with that raw heat in his eyes:
“I knew you were a slut. You wanted this dick, didn’t you? Now you’re mine. My little wife.”

He kissed me again, fucked me hard, and growled:
“That’s a perfect hole. It needs to get filled every damn day.”

I was lost in it, begging him to cum inside me. He didn’t hold back—he slammed in deep, groaned loud, and filled me up with his hot load.

I told him to stay in. To keep it in me. I didn’t want to let him go.

We’ve hooked up several times since. And each time, he’s left me dripping, fucked, and craving more.
A real metro top. Hairy, dominant, raw, and obsessed with owning my hole.