Email Exchange
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2021 by Mat Twassel
Erotica Sex Story: Brad is just about to head home from work when he gets an email from his wife. "For some reason I've been really horny all afternoon. I don't know what's gotten into me. I've even been writing porn stuff. Want to hear one?" This is really out of character for her, but why not? Things escalate from thier [sic], maybe even get more than a little out of hand.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa .
It is just before six, and Brad is finally wrapping things up, when he gets an email from his wife, Sue.
Hi honey. You coming home soon? I miss you.
Brad sighs. If it weren’t for this interruption, he’d be in the elevator by now. He’s hungry. He’s tired. The White Sox are playing the Cubs this evening. If he hurries, he might get home by the fourth inning. Quickly he enters a reply on his desktop.
I’m on my way. I miss you, too.
But before he can press send, another email comes in. He sends off his email and then reads the new one. It, too, is from Susan.
For some reason I’ve been really horny all afternoon. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ve even been writing porn stuff. Want to hear one?
Horny? Brad can’t remember Sue ever using that word. When Sue is feeling amorous she uses phrases like “feel like fooling around.” Brad types in a one-word response. A moment later the email appears on his screen:
When he’s fucking her, when his cock is deep as it can go in her cunt, her little asshole gets so hot, it’s like it’s on fire, and all she has to do is twinge her ass cheeks apart the littlest bit, and the air kisses her their, and just like that she comes, great surging gushes of orgasm.
Brad can’t help but think of his wife’s shy asshole. Of his wife’s tidy cunt. Sue has never used words like cunt and cock and asshole. Her words are down there and doodle and bottom. As far as he knows, she doesn’t have a word for orgasm. Not that she doesn’t come. She’s always been very responsive. Her orgasms are often fierce and sustained. But afterwards, the most she might allow is, “That was good, honey.” Brad’s erection strains against the front of his slacks. No way can he leave his desk this way.
He writes back:
You misspelled their. I before E except after C.
Sue answers:
Oh, darling. I’ve been bad. Maybe you’re going to have to spank me. You’re going to have to spank me so hard.
Spank her? Sue doesn’t even like thinking about pain, and especially not in any sexual context. Brad imagines the sound his hand might make against the shapely flesh of Sue’s still girlish ass. The delicious quiver. The sunburn splash. And then he types:
You don’t know what you’re doing to me, honey. You’ve given me such a hard-on. How am I going to leave the office now?
His wife’s reply is quick:
You’re such a cutie when you get all het up. I should let you cool off, huh? But I’m feeling just so naughty. Listen to this.
After he gets home from work they slip out onto the patio and she slips down her top and he slips down his sweatpants and she takes his cock, already stiff and surging, and wiggles it against her nipple, back and forth, tickly little kisses, until her nipple is coated with his cock-spit and he’s just about to come. Then she squeezes him really hard at the base to cut off his orgasm, and then she bares her other breast and repeats the procedure. “I can’t take it anymore,” he says. “I need to come; I need to come in you.” But she doesn’t let him; not until he’s cock-kissed her breasts each twice more, and they’re glistening with drool. “Okay,” she says, leaning back against the patio table, “I guess you’re fully primed now. Come in me.”
He’s ejaculating even before his penis is fully into her cunt. By the time his cock reaches bottom, she’s coming too. Spent, they sag into each other. “So refreshing,” she says, some minutes later, once he’s slipped out, his cock sleepy and satisfied. She gives the little fellow a nite-nite kiss. But it only succeeds in waking him up. Pretty soon he’s fucking her again, fucking her from behind as she stands braced against the side of their house.
Writing this was such a turn on. It got me so hot and juicy. I’d type a sentence, and then I’d touch myself, and then I’d type a sentence. Guess which sentence made me come?
Brad reads the message twice. Then a third time. He has no idea which sentence. He types:
Was it the one about fully primed?
That was the second one.
How many were there.
I don’t know. How many sentences were there?
Oh, God. Is there any left.
There’s plenty left. And all for you.
But that squeezing stuff. Where did you hear about that? Won’t it hurt?
I’ll be gentle. Firm but gentle.
I don’t know. And what about the neighbors? Won’t they see?
It’ll be dark by the time you get home.
But won’t they hear? You know how loud you are.
Am I? Am I too loud?
No. I like you loud. But what if you can’t stop me? What if I ... you know ... spurt all over you. All over your tit. I’m pretty worked up as it is.
Maybe if you touched yourself right now. If you brought yourself off in your pants. Then, by the time you got home, you’d be recovered, but not so ardent that it couldn’t be controlled.
You think I should?
I do.
I don’t know if I can.
Sure you can. Want me to help you out a little bit?
Sure. But how?
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