Chapter 1: Fit the First
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Historical, Voyeurism,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Fit the First - Many people, mainly men, experience vicarious and varied thrills from watching the sexual acts of others: be they partners or simply strangers caught in flagrante delicto.The following chapter, and subsequent tales, set out to explore the peccadillos of people across many cultures and different times throughout history to illustrate that we may have progressed technologically but some things never change.
There she is, the slut; flat on her back, legs in the air and spread wide open for another young lance to fill her full o' lust. Horny bitch! Forty-eight years old and the itch between her thighs is just as insatiable now as the first time we fucked, thirty years ago. After three children (two girls and, finally, a boy), and a lifelong obsession with dairy produce, she's broader in the beam but still moves like a dream when you're in the saddle and will give you a hot ride if you have the stamina.
I can smell her excitement from here - at least 15 feet away from the foot of our marital bed - and through a specially fitted peep-hole I have a perfect view of his hard cock nailing her cunt repeatedly and the sound of their bodies slapping together is just about discernible under her cries of delight. Excellent! The weapon in my hand quivers with anticipation but I control my bestial urges. That's right, slut, squeal like a whore and beg for more, pull him deeper, take him harder, rock that cock right up your juicy fuck-hole and work your magic.
I can feel pre-cum starting to drip, which is no surprise after watching them for almost half an hour now, and if he doesn't burst soon, I will! She's rolled on top of him and is riding that rod like the sex-crazed cunt she is. It looks to be twice the size of my four inch erection but she didn't marry me for my prowess in bed, no, she prefers the size of my treasury to my modest endowment and as long as I keep her in the style she's become accustomed to and is regularly supplied with well-hung studs, life is good.
I can take it or leave it now; know what I mean? Well, after doing it with the same woman, week in, week out, for so long, does leave a man somewhat jaded (and I suppose she gets just as tired of my face too). Mind you, with a glass ceiling to entertain her I don't suppose she watches me very carefully whenever we get together nowadays (which isn't that often). The fat trollop is gazing up at her reflection now, riding the rod to its fullest extent, rolls of flesh heaving this way and that.
I'm almost tempted to abandon my hidey-hole, pounce upon her fundament and ride her harder than my favourite hunter but my will prevails caution upon the raging lust in my loins. Their pleasure must rise to a particular peak before I may act.
I can almost taste the sweaty aroma of her body, so thick in the air it is now. Come on, cunt; get in position, for the love of... ahhhh, yessssssss! There she is, on her hands and knees like a bitch in heat; ready for his rampant lust. Take it, boy, take it with everything you have. Enjoy her while you can. His tongue slips in-between her copious buttocks and delves deep inside each hole, tasting her cunt and lewdly eating her privy passage without shame. The obscene noise of his tongue slurping away within her sticky flesh makes me throb harder and if he persists I shall have to assuage the burning desire inside the first hole I come upon - which would certainly make his eyes water, I'll be bound!
Fortunately, (for him) he's knelt behind my wife's ample arse at her urgent insistence and is preparing to skewer her sopping wet cunt once more.
Unfortunately, (for her) he's missed his mark and slipped into her nether regions where the sun shines not.
I can hardly believe the slut's not only taken him right between her plump cheeks and, by the noise she's making, neither can she! Air rushing past his plunging prick makes the most disgusting accompaniment but only urges him on; deeper, harder, faster. His hands grip her huge hips, pulling her fleshy haunches tight to him then pushing her up to the limit of their endurance - the unstoppable force of his lust mating with her immovable flesh in a passionate frenzy. The weapon trembles violently once again within the sweaty grip of my palm and I know it won't be long before their frenzy stimulates me into action but my will remains strong, though I cannot help a pang of envy within my heart at the sight of his rigid length surging into her puckered ring; a snug sanctuary denied to all but the privileged few. (Enjoy it while you can, you filthy whore-monger, my time is coming. oh yes, cumming very, very soon!)
I can barely wait much longer; the tension throbs in my bones, making me tremble and shiver as though chilled but the heat in the room makes us sweat - for very different reasons: him; with the stress and strain of exerting every muscle to sustain his exertions. Her; in ecstatic anticipation of what's to come and myself in the confines of the garderobe where I stand, hidden from view but able to gain access to their den of iniquity with a carefully placed eye to a hole in the wall (hidden behind a likeness of her mother). His turgid phallus, slick with her excitement, flashes in the shadows, candlelight flickers on faces contorted at the height of passion, and I'm thankful that the noise of their vigorous sport covers the faint 'click' of the latch when I open the secret panel. I wonder whether other couples get such thrills from as lewd an exhibition as this. Perhaps, somewhere, someone is stalking his wife's lover, weapon in hand, and ready to do the deed.
She cannot see or hear me: entranced within her own passion, her orgasm wracks her rolls of flesh and makes her body resemble one of those sweet milk puddings she's so fond of. I smile at the image and edge forward on tip-toe, careful to avoid the discarded clothing and bejewelled scabbard lying haphazardly across the floor like a trail of bread crumbs to the four-poster bed which rocks back and forth in the rhythm of their happy violence. Her breathless cries for him to ravish her become wilder, demented even, beyond all modesty and decorum, no longer a wife and mother but simply a conduit for her unnatural lust to manifest around his plunging member, drawing him into the whirlpool between her quaking thighs.
He cannot know what is coming (other than his own pleasure), so intent is his focus upon the vortex sucking him relentlessly deeper inside her heaving body - and, if he had known, would he have stopped? I doubt it! His buttocks churn in a slow circle, pumping hard, ploughing his seed within her receptive furrow until she is satiated and screams: "Now!"
He turns his head, warned, perhaps by some sixth sense, and meets my weapon coming the other way, taking the perfect blow that lays his throat open to the bone.
She turns to suckle the gush of bright blood and tastes the immortal elixir that ensures her beauty will never fade.
A thick rope of pre-cum swings lazily between my thighs: "Please!" I beseech my lusty lady, unable to bear the load any longer. Her blood-red lips part and with a look she releases me, taking the hot cream on her plump jowls with a satisfied purr, licking each drop from her lips to savour the contrast between our offerings: his, a tart, coppery taste and mine, a tangy aftertaste that stimulates her desire for more. She lays back upon the tangled blankets, pushes the corpse out of the way with a delicate, beringged toe, and opens herself wide, offering me the chance to slake her preternaturally enhanced lusts and, with a slavering tongue, I obey, licking her succulent flesh and lapping the sticky flow of love juices into my mouth.
The flavour of her flesh revives my flagging libido and her legs wrap around my neck like a pair of anaconda's, smooth and moist to the touch. I have lain with many women and tasted the fruits of various and dissolute pleasures but I would not swap the She-Devil that is my wife for any of them.