Shy Wife's Dirty Fantasies
by BangMySlut
Copyright© 2026 by BangMySlut
Erotica Sex Story: Story about a shy wife who is easy aroused by dirty talk and by men lusting over her. Monica has huge DD tits, large round areolas, curvy body, black hair, brown eyes; loves go without a bra wearing thin fabric blouses and get turn on by men flirting. Husband has been fantasizing about other men fucking Monica and talks dirty to her during sex and she get extremely turn on with the idea and unaware her husband really want it and shrug it off as dirty sex talk. She has a older black neighbor who
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma Fa Coercion Drunk/Drugged Reluctant Fiction True Story Slut Wife Black Male White Female Hispanic Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Big Breasts AI Generated .
Monica adjusted her thin white blouse as she stepped out into the backyard, the fabric clinging lightly to her curvy frame. Without a bra, her huge DD tits swayed gently with each step, the large round areolas faintly visible through the sheer material under the afternoon sun. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her brown eyes that darted nervously around the neighborhood. She was shy by nature, but something about the way men stared at her body sent a secret thrill through her core. She loved the attention; even if it made her cheeks flush.
Her husband, Mark, had invited the neighbors over for a barbecue that weekend. Monica wasn’t thrilled, especially about Jake—the older black neighbor next door. Divorced and living alone, Jake was in his late fifties, with a stocky build and piercing eyes that always seemed to linger on her. ‘Creepy Jake,’ she called him in private, whispering to Mark about how he undressed her with his gaze every time she mowed the lawn or hung laundry. ‘Why do you even talk to him?’ she’d ask, her voice a mix of annoyance and unease. But deep down, the intensity of his stare made her pussy tingle, a forbidden heat she quickly pushed away.
The barbecue went as expected. Mark chatted with Jake by the grill, flipping burgers while Monica busied herself with salads inside. When she emerged carrying a pitcher of lemonade, Jake’s eyes locked onto her chest. The thin blouse did little to hide the outline of her nipples as a breeze teased the fabric. He smirked, his voice low and gravelly as he complimented the spread. ‘Looks delicious, Monica. You always know how to make things ... inviting.’ His gaze dropped blatantly to her tits, and she felt her face burn. She mumbled thanks and hurried back inside, her heart pounding. Later, she cornered Mark in the kitchen. ‘See? He looks at me like he wants to rape me. Why invite him over?’
Mark pulled her close, his hands sliding down her curvy hips. ‘He’s harmless, babe Just a lonely guy appreciating a beautiful woman.’ But inside, Mark’s cock twitched at the thought. He’d been fantasizing about other men taking Monica for months—watching her get fucked hard, her shy demeanor shattering under their thrusts. During sex, he’d whisper filthy scenarios to her, and she’d soak the sheets, moaning like a slut. He didn’t know she dismissed it as just dirty talk, but he craved the reality. And Jake The way that older black man eyed his wife like prey turned Mark on more than anything.
That night, after the guests left, Mark couldn’t wait. He pushed Monica against the bedroom wall, his mouth crashing into hers. She gasped, her huge tits pressing against his chest through the blouse. He yanked it open, buttons popping, exposing her bare breasts. Her large round areolas darkened as he sucked one nipple hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. ‘Fuck, your tits are perfect,’ he growled, sliding a hand between her thighs. She was already wet, her pussy lips slick under her skirt.
Monica arched into him, shy but eager. ‘Mark ... please.’ He stripped her quickly, bending her over the bed. His cock throbbed as he rubbed it against her ass, and then plunged into her dripping pussy from behind. She cried out, her curvy body rocking with each thrust. ‘You love it when men stare at you, don’t you?’ he panted, gripping her black hair. ‘Like Jake today. He wants to fuck you so bad, Monica That creepy old man dream of bending you over like this, slamming his thick black cock into your tight white pussy.’
Her breath hitched, a rush of arousal flooding her. The image hit her hard—Jake’s dark hands on her pale skin, his eyes hungry as he claimed her. Her walls clenched around Mark’s dick, but she shook her head, denying the heat building in her core. ‘No ... He’s creepy. I don’t want that.’ But her body betrayed her, hips pushing back greedily as Mark fucked her deeper. ‘Liar,’ he whispered, spanking her ass. ‘Your pussy’s gushing at the thought. Imagine him here, raping your mouth while I watch, his cum dripping down your chin onto those fat tits.’
Monica moaned loudly, her large areolas puckering as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She came hard, her juices squirting around his cock, but she bit her lip, refusing to admit how turned on the fantasy made her. Mark followed, pumping his load deep inside her, groaning about Jake filling her up next time. She collapsed onto the bed, panting, shrugging it off as his usual kink. ‘You’re crazy,’ she murmured, but her fingers lingered between her legs, circling her clit as the dirty words echoed in her mind.
The next few days blurred into routine, but Jake’s presence lingered. Monica caught him watching from his porch one morning as she watered the flowers, her thin blouse dampening from the hose spray. The fabric turned translucent, clinging to her DD tits like a second skin, her nipples hard points begging for attention. He leaned against the railing, arms crossed, and his bulge evident in his pants ‘Morning, neighbor Looking fine as ever.’ His voice dripped with lust, and she turned away quickly, her pussy aching despite herself.
She complained to Mark that evening over dinner. ‘Creepy Jake was staring again. It’s like he wants to jump me right there in the yard.’ Mark’s eyes lit up, his fork pausing mid-air. ‘Tell me more. What’d he say?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Just some compliment, but his eyes ... ugh. Why does he have to be such a perv’ Mark reached under the table, his hand squeezing her thigh ‘Because you’re irresistible. Bet he’d love to rip that blouse off and suck on those big nipples.’
Monica swatted his hand away, laughing nervously. ‘Stop it. I’m not into older black guys like that.’ But the seed was planted, her mind wandering to forbidden thoughts as they cleared the table. Later in bed, Mark pounced again. He stripped her slowly this time, worshipping her curvy body with his tongue. Licking from her neck down to her navel, he spread her legs wide, burying his face in her pussy. His tongue flicked her clit, and then delved inside, tasting her sweetness ‘Mmm, so wet already. Thinking about Jake’s tongues here that mature cock stretching you out wife with his huge thick black dick?’
She whimpered, her brown eyes fluttering shut as she ground against his mouth. ‘No ... just you.’ But her orgasm built fast, her huge tits heaving as she imagined Jake’s rough hands pinning her down, his dark skin contrasting her curves as he forced his way in. Mark sensed her surrender, flipping her onto all fours and mounting her like an animal. His cock slammed into her ass this time—lube-slick and relentless—while he painted the picture. ‘He’d fuck your ass raw, Monica. Cum all over your back while you scream for more. My shy little wife, turned into a black cock slut.’
The dirty talk pushed her over the edge again, her body shaking as she came, denying it even as her pussy clenched empty, yearning. Mark exploded inside her ass, collapsing beside her. ‘One day, babe,’ he murmured, half-serious. She curled into him, heart racing, and the arousal lingering like a secret she couldn’t confess. Jake was just a fantasy—creepy, unwanted. But the heat between her legs whispered otherwise.
- Mark had been observing it all week—the subtle dance between Monica and Jake. From the kitchen window, he’d catch Jake on his porch, eyes devouring Monica as she bent over to pull weeds in the garden. Her thin blouse stretched tight across her DD tits, the fabric whispering against her skin without a bra to restrain them. She’d pause sometimes, feeling the weight of his stare, her cheeks flushing pink. But she’d straighten up quickly, pretending not to notice, hurrying inside with her heart racing. Alone in the bathroom, she’d lean against the sink, breath shallow, her mind betraying her. How would it feel? The thought crept in unbidden—a thick black cock sliding into her pussy, stretching her wide, filling her in ways Mark never could. She shook it off, splashing water on her face. Black guys are supposed to be huge, she recalled from whispers and porn she’d glimpsed once, her clit throbbing at the forbidden curiosity. But no, Jake was creepy. She didn’t want that. Not really.
Mark loved every second of her denial. It fueled him. During their nightly fucks, he’d pin her down, cock buried deep in her slick folds, and murmur about Jake claiming her. ‘Imagine his dark hands squeezing those fat tits while he rams you,’ he’d grunt, thrusting harder. Monica’s pussy would flood, gripping him like a vice, her moans turning desperate as she came undone. Yet afterward, she’d whisper, ‘It’s just talk, Mark. I don’t want some old black perv like Jake.’ Her wetness said otherwise, and it drove him wild—the intoxicating mix of her arousal and resistance.
‘Please, don’t invite him over again,’ Monica begged that Friday night, curled against him in bed after another intense session where he’d described Jake pounding her ass until she squirted. Her body still hummed from the orgasm, but her voice was firm. ‘He’s too ... intense Makes me uncomfortable.’ Mark kissed her forehead, hiding his excitement ‘Just neighbors being friendly, babe. It’ll be fine.’ He ignored her pleas, texting Jake the next afternoon about evening drinks and poker.
The following weekend arrived, the air thick with summer heat. Monica dressed reluctantly in a loose white blouse, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide her curves or the sway of her braless breasts. She poured beers in the living room, the card table set up under the lamp’s warm glow. Jake arrived with a six-pack, his stocky frame filling the doorway, eyes immediately tracing her hips and chest. ‘Evening, Monica. You look ready to deal some trouble.’ His gravelly voice sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced a smile, handing him a bottle.
They settled in—Mark, Jake, and Monica around the table, cards shuffling as laughter filled the room. Beers flowed freely, loosening tongues and inhibitions. Jake told dirty jokes between hands, his stories laced with innuendo about busty women and lucky bastards. Monica giggled, the alcohol buzzing in her veins, her brown eyes sparkling. She felt his gaze like a touch, heavy on her tits, and it stirred something low in her belly. He’s lusting after me, she thought, crossing her legs to ease the ache building between them. But she played it cool; sipping her drink, pretending the heat was just from the booze.
A few rounds in, Monica reached across for a card, her arm stretching forward. Her huge DD tits shifted with the motion, pressing against the blouse’s front. The center buttons strained—pop, pop—one gave way, then the next, the fabric parting like an invitation. Her full breasts spilled into view, pale skin glowing under the light, large round areolas peeking out dark and inviting. As she leaned back, twisting slightly to lay down her hand, one hard nipple slipped free entirely, erect and begging for a mouth.
Jake’s eyes widened, locked on the sight. He shifted in his chair, his pants tenting as he drank in the glimpse of her exposed flesh—the curve of her tit, the textured brown areola crinkling with her quickened breath. Mark noticed too, his cock hardening instantly under the table. Neither man spoke, both transfixed, arousal thickening the air. Monica, tipsy and focused on the game, didn’t realize. She laughed at Jake’s next joke—a crude tale about a poker hand turning into a strip tease—her body moving with the mirth, tits jiggling slightly, the opening widening just enough for another flash of nipple.
The tension built silently. Jake dealt the next round, his voice rougher, eyes flicking down every chance he got. Monica felt the undercurrent, her pussy growing damp as his lust washed over her. He wants to touch me, she realized vaguely, the dirty jokes fueling her flush. She squirmed in her seat, thighs rubbing together, unaware her blouse gaped open. Mark watched it all, his mind racing to later—fucking her while recounting every detail, her denial crumbling under waves of pleasure.
As the night wore on, the beers emptied, and the game devolved into more stories than strategy. Monica’s exposure remained her secret—or so she thought—while the two men savored the view, cocks throbbing with unspoken hunger.
- The room’s air hung heavy, thicker than the summer humidity outside, as if the beers and Jake’s crude tales had turned up an invisible heat. Monica shifted in her seat between the two men, her open blouse still gaping unnoticed, and those massive DD tits rising and falling with each breath. Jake’s latest story spilled out in his deep rumble—a nasty recount of his ex-wife’s wild nights, how she’d beg for his thick shaft after a fight, spreading her legs wide while he pounded her until she screamed. Monica’s cheeks burned, but she forced a polite laugh, crossing her legs tighter under the table. The words wormed into her mind, stirring that secret heat between her thighs. She had no clue her hard nipples stood out like beacons, dark areolas framing them through the parted fabric, or that both men had been feasting on the view since her buttons popped.
Mark sat to her left, his grip tight on his cards, a storm churning inside him. Jealousy clawed at his gut—Jake’s eyes devouring his wife’s exposed flesh like she was meat on a platter. But the excitement overrode it, his cock straining against his jeans, throbbing at the taboo thrill. Guilt flickered too, for ignoring her pleas, for engineering this night. Yet he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, his mind already scripting how he’d recount it all later, slamming into her while she denied every filthy urge.
Jake, across from her, couldn’t hold back anymore. Those full tits, the pebbled nipples begging to be sucked—it was too much. His stocky body tensed, piercing eyes locked on her chest as he dealt the next hand. Under the table’s edge, hidden in the dim light, he reached down, unzipping his pants with a quiet rasp. His hand fished out his hard cock, thick and veined, the dark skin stretched taut over its girth. It sprang free, heavy and pulsing, pre-cum beading at the tip as he gave it a slow stroke for relief. The monster hung there, semi-concealed by the tablecloth’s draped, but impossible to ignore up close.
Monica shuffled her cards, fingers fumbling slightly from the buzz of alcohol. One slipped free, fluttering to the floor near Jake’s feet. ‘Oops,’ she murmured, leaning down to grab it, her tits swaying forward, nearly brushing the table’s edge. As she bent, her eyes dropped—and locked on it. That huge black cock, right there, rigid and enormous, dwarfing anything she’d imagined in her stolen fantasies. She froze, breath catching, brown eyes widening. It was massive, thicker than her wrist, the head flared and glistening. Her mind blanked, pulse hammering in her ears.
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