David and Joe were in Joe’s bedroom lost in a fierce gaming session on their consoles. From their first school days, the two had been inseparable, and over years, their relationship had only become closer. At eighteen years old, they were enjoying their summer holiday after finishing high school. Former high school football players who were now very interested in fitness often worked out together at the gym.

Their athletic builds and magnetic personalities had made them well-known in their social circle; their relationship grew on a basis of trust, mutual respect, and a shared sense of humor. They would frequently joke about, taunt one another about their gaming prowess, and reminisce about past times from high school while they engaged in video games.

David and Joe would frequently joke and tease lightheartedly, and one of their favorite subjects was gently mocking the other’s moms. All in a jesting and non-malicious way, they would jokingly remark about their moms’ physical beauty, hair style, or fashion sense.

David may make fun of Joe’s mom’s characteristic hairdo or her love of vibrant clothes, for example, whereas Joe would tease David about his mother’s cooking or favorite TV series. These jokes were usually lighthearted and neither boy wanted to hurt the other or disrespect their moms. It was just a means of entertainment and enjoyment for them, as they had grown at ease enough with one another to challenge accepted subjects for discussion.

David, Joe and their mother’s would frequently spend time together by the pool, tanning under the sun and savoring the other’s company as the summer days became hotter. Sometimes the two guys would playfully and flirtatiously converse, mocking one other about their moms while they lounged next to the pool. They would especially remark on how gorgeous their friend’s mother looked in her swimsuit, especially considering that their bikini’s left little to the imagination.

Though they were usually humorous and playful, without any purpose of offending or upsetting anybody, the lads’ remarks may be tinged with sexual innuendo. Sometimes their moms would overhear their chats and would grin or roll their eyes good-naturedly, used to their boys’ lighthearted pranks and taunting comments.

As David and Joe ogled the other’s mother in their revealing bikinis, they would still be enjoying each other’s company and pushing the envelope of what was deemed appropriate in their cheerful conversation.

The mothers would sometimes turn around and alternately harass the men. Hellen would go passed the lads after reaching and pulling her bikini bottoms securely into her crack. Then stop in front of them and grab a piece of paper off the ground, so that both men can see her ass.

David murmured to Joe, “Your mother keeps doing things like that, and I’m going to have to do something about that.” Both guys staring squarely at Hellen’s pussy.

Spending weeks at a time on the road, Joe’s father was a traveling salesman visiting customers and showcasing goods around the nation. This regular absence meant that Joe and his mother, Mary, were left to run their own house most of the time.

David’s father had a prosperous truck sales company. He was an entrepreneur. Usually every other month, he would go to big trade exhibits and auctions as part of his company to acquire and sell vehicles. Often leaving David and his mother to run on their own while he was out of town haggling over transactions, these visits would keep him away from home for many days at a time.

Feeling guilty after her husband Mark had just departed on a week-long vacation, Mrs. Walker was seated on the sofa. She really needed his dick to satiate her shit-hot desire and was yearning some strong activity and wanted him to return home early.

David entered the living room and saw Mrs. Walker clearly miserable, her face a picture of pure suffering. He pondered how he might provide joy to her life, considering the possibility of just listening to her so she could express her frustration.

David settled on the couch next to her, his hand just resting on her left leg. Quietly, he said, “Mrs. Walker, are you okay?” with a soft voice, “You feel warm; is everything OK?”

Mrs. Walker glancing across at him with a fake grin on her face. Her voice low and somewhat strained, “Sure, I’m OK; I’m just a little restless.” she replied. “I suppose I’ll simply go inside the library for some time losing myself in a book. We can catch up later, okay?” After gently releasing his hand from her thigh, she rose to her feet and walked stiffly toward the library, leaving David to wonder what Mrs. Walker was actually planning.

David sat in the kitchen enjoying his breakfast and thinking about Joe’s coming back after his morning run. His attention drifted to Mrs. Walker; he considered if she would value a pick-me-up, anything to help her forget whatever was troubling her. He thought maybe a cup of tea or coffee would be just right. Having this in mind, he stood up and started to fix a tray with her preferred drink ready, hoping it would make her smile and lift her attitude. He intended to bring it to the library where she was reading.

David’s heart skipped a beat as he gently pushed open the library door carrying Mrs. Walker’s drink and saw what awaited him. Shock widened his eyes as he surveyed the scene.

Mrs. Walker was on all fours, totally nude, her hips sharply pushing up and down as she rode a dildo fixed to the floor. Her voice was quiet but desperate, “Oh, this feels incredible, fuck me harder ... yes, deeper.” Her strong groans permeated the space as she pursued an explosive climax, totally absorbed in her exquisite gratification.

Setting the dish down, David grabbed his phone and started filming, staring at Mrs. Walker’s sensual exhibition. For a long time, he had cherished a hidden thoughts of wanting to fuck her, and now he had the ideal chance to record her intimate moments.

Mrs. Walker’s fucks got louder and more forceful as David’s phone caught the filthy scene; her perverted cries resounded through the room. Her voice straggling from yelling, “Fuck me like a cheap slut,” she cried, “Treat me like a dirty whore and make me come all over that dildo.” Her comments were a flood of dirty vulgarity, each term more stunning than the next, “I’m a nasty cumdumpster, fill me up with your spunk,” she said, her body shaking with orgasmic release.

Mrs. Walker was totally blind to anyone’s presence; she was so engross in her own pleasure. David remained there, staring at the vivid image before him, filming in startled silence as the dildo vanished repeatedly into Mrs. Walker’s moist pussy, her fluids shimmering on the device as it slipped in and out.

David was anchored on the ground, his ears ablaze with every dirty word Mrs. Walker said as she brazenly rode the dildo. “Fuck this slut harder,” she panted, her voice soft with passion, “Ram that huge cock deeper into my cunt.” Every vulgar sentence felt like a smack in the face, and David’s eyes widened in horror as Mrs. Walker slid up and down the toy, her screams and cries becoming louder as her pussy swallowed it completely with each stroke.

Mrs. Walker pleaded for more, her voice slinking with wickedness. She groaned, “Oh, I’m a filthy slut, fuck me like the whore I am,” her words spiraling into an ecstatic debasement frenzy. She panted, “Ram that cock deep into my cunt, make me come like the bitch I am,” her breath coming in ragged gasps as the climax grew to an explosive peak within her. Her obscene remarks came out like a flood, “I’m a dirty fucktoy, use me hard, make me scream with pleasure,” each word drawing her to the brink of her climax.

“I’m a slut, push that cock deeper into me,” she moaned, her voice sending a surge of erotic energy through him, and before he knew it, he was sporting a full-blown erection, his pants straining to contain his rigid shaft as he stood there, immobilized by a mix of shock and unintended arousal.

Mrs. Walker ripped the dildo from the floor and flung herself onto her back, her legs splayed wide apart as she furiously rammed the toy deeper into her cunt. Her voice was a husky, desperate growl, “Oh, I’m a filthy, degenerate slut, fuck me like the bastard you are, make me scream with ecstasy, make me the most satisfiable fucked whore in town.” Her words tumbled out in a frantic torrent of lust, “Pound my pussy like there’s no tomorrow, make me come like a rupturing dam, I want to be your playground, your sex toy, your absolute possession.” As she spoke, she dug her heels into the floor and thrust her hips upward, impaling herself on the dildo with reckless abandon, her body shuddering and convulsing as she hurtled toward a mind-shattering climax.

Mrs. Walker collapsed back, the dildo still buried deep within her, her legs remaining raised and spread wide, as if inviting someone to take its place. Her voice was a sultry, whispered confession, “I need this so much, but it’s just not the same ... I crave a real man’s cock between my legs, someone to fuck me with raw passion and intensity.” She paused, her chest heaving with desire, “I want to feel a man’s weight on top of me, his hot breath on my skin, his hands gripping my hips as he pounds into me.” Her words trailed off into a soft moan, “I need to be fucked by a real man, to feel his sweat and his cum inside me ... this toy is just a poor substitute for the real thing.” As she lay there, she slowly began to rotate her hips, the dildo still lodged within her, as if searching for something more substantial to fill the emptiness within.

David, his mind racing as he listened to Mrs. Walker’s sensual whispers. An idea formed, and he knew what he had to do: bring pleasure to Mrs. Walker and satisfy her deep-seated desire for a real man.

Mrs. Walker’s hands slid between her legs, grasping the dildo as she slowly pulled it out of her soaked pussy. Her voice was a raspy, desperate whisper, “Yes, I’m fucking starving for it ... I need a man’s cock to ravage me, to own me, to make me his absolute slut.” Her words dripped with primal desire, “I crave to be someone’s filthy plaything, their whore, their cum dumpster ... I want to be used hard, used rough, and used often.” As she spoke, her eyes seemed to glaze over, lost in a world of depraved longing, her body trembling with anticipation.

As she pulled the dildo from her pussy and laid it on the floor next to her, she let out a breath and said, “Yes, I do need to be someone’s slut!” Laid back and rested for a minute.

David slowly shut the door, took the drink tray, and went back to the kitchen. As he sat down at the table, his eyes went to his phone, and he started to scroll through the NSFW videos of Mrs. Walker that he had recorded earlier. He thought about a new app that caught his attention as he watched her sensual moves and listened to her sexy words.

The app, called “Want To Be Fucked,” seemed to be a place where people could explore their wants and meet other people who liked the same things they did. David’s thoughts wandered as he thought about how he could make an account on the app and maybe even use it to get Mrs. Walker to join.

The next day, David sent a notification to Mrs. Walker through the “Want To Be Fucked” app, his heart racing with anticipation as he wondered how she would respond.

Meanwhile, Mary was taken aback when she received the notification, her curiosity piqued as she tried to figure out who could have sent it to her. At first, she thought that maybe her husband was behind it, trying to surprise her and make her feel young and desirable again. She considered the possibility that he had created a profile on the app as a way to reignite the spark in their relationship and add some excitement to their sex life.

Mary’s mind was filled with questions as she wondered if her husband was trying to be more adventurous and open-minded, or if someone else entirely had sent her the notification. She felt a mix of emotions - surprise, intrigue, and a hint of mystery - as she debated whether or not to explore the app further and see where it might lead.

Mary’s curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to install the “Want To Be Fucked” app on her phone. After answering a few preliminary questions and setting up her profile, she received a response to the notification David had sent her earlier. The message was concise and straightforward, instructing her to be at the Grand Hotel, room 425, on Tuesday at 8 pm sharp. The tone was somewhat commanding, leaving no room for misinterpretation or negotiation.

Mary felt a shiver run down her spine as she read the message, wondering was her husband be behind it and what his intentions were.

As Mary sat there staring at her phone, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of excitement and intrigue that the mysterious invitation had sparked within her. Despite some initial reservations, she found herself feeling drawn to the provocative nature of the message, and her mind began to wander to thoughts of preparation and anticipation.

She started thinking about what to wear, wondering if she had something sexy and alluring enough to make a statement. She pondered the question of just how much to wear, debating whether to go for a revealing outfit or something more subtle and teasing. As she weighed her options, Mary also thought about the cost of whatever she might choose, considering whether it would be worth splurging on something new and special for the occasion.

Her thoughts were a jumble of excitement, nervousness, and practicality as she tried to decide on the perfect attire for her mysterious rendezvous at the Grand Hotel. With each passing moment, Mary’s anticipation grew, and she found herself becoming increasingly invested in making a bold and memorable impression on Tuesday evening.

Mary decided to text the mysterious service, seeking clarification on the dress code and any potential costs associated with the encounter. She sent a message asking, “What to wear, and is there a cost?” The response came back quickly, instructing her to “wear something sexy” and reassuring her that “the first time is free.”

Mary’s eyes widened as she read the message, her mind racing with questions and anticipation.

Though the mask-wearing directive seemed strange at first, the subsequent explanation provided much-needed context. The postscript read: “All individuals will be masked to protect their ID, so, yours will be on the bed. Please wear it.”

This revelation sparked a mix of emotions within Mary, from curiosity to apprehension. She realized that the masks were intended to maintain anonymity, allowing participants to engage in their desires without fear of judgment or repercussions. The idea of being incognito, free to explore her own desires without consequences, was both thrilling and intimidating.