Does anyone wife return the favor every now and then?.... this week my wife let me fuck my cousin's wife and then my other first cousin during a family getaway... both was secretly done....
Wife favors?
- Thread starter Indianking21
- Start date
Im lucky to get to fuck every now and then... she let's me.. my reward she says.. lol
My first cousin.. while fucking her she asked.. "Do we have any morals?"... lol.. i said not right now and kept fucking her... while my wife watched the room to make sure noones comes in... she did the same while I was fucking my cousin's wife... luckily my cousin wasnt there as he had to work..
Attachments
Absolutely nothing....it's taboo but quite sexy.. fucking your mother's sister daughter.. 🤭🤫🤫🤫
were more of adventurous... not hardcore cuckold.. we share... i get to watch... i get to join... anything i wish... anything she wishes
Only once was I sent off to fuck another woman, my first wife’s best friend at work, who had fallen into an emotional mess. Her boyfriend had dumped her and she was near suicidal. She was about 5’4”, about 26; about 115lbs. She had tried to become an actress and she had been in three movies, playing tiny, no-line roles, such as attractive woman in bookstore number two. She now worked as a singing instructor and sang with a jazz group. I liked her a great deal, as she was cheerful and friendly. In fact, the first time I met her was at a pool party and she had climbed out of the swimming pool, wet and seductive, looking like a girl in James Bond movie—except that at 5'4" she would fit better in a Tom Cruise action thriller.
She emerged from the pool wearing a plain, black bikini, but which nonetheless showed off her fine, taut body. The bikini seemed to be one size to big. Perhaps, she had weighed more when she bought or perhaps she had borrowed the suit from the host's wife, but its loose fit made it all the more sexy, as her small breast were free to jiggle under the black cloth and the too large bikini bottom allowed he ass cheeks to peek out of hiding. In fact, her bottom looked like it would fall if she stood and opened her legs. She had beautiful shoulder length dark chestnut hair and soft voice. If I hadn’t just gotten attached to my wife, then girlfriend, I would have gone for her in an instant. She and I always got along.
But when her boyfriend dumped her, she didn’t sleep and cried throughout the day. My wife spent long hours with her, trying to bring her friend out of her despair. She complained to my wife that her ex-boyfriend was the perfect man for her, that he was so handsome and the finest lover she had ever had.
Seriously?
I had met him few times and I thought little of him, as he bore a snooty expression and walked as if he had butt plug in place. If someone told me that he was a closeted gay man, I wouldn’t have been shocked. My wife never much liked the fellow as well and his imputed last virtue, that of being an excellent lover, she thought ridiculous and she told her friend so.
This is where I entered the picture. My wife assured her that her ex-boyfriend could not the best at anything, especially at making love. I wasn’t there, so I do not know exactly how it happened, but my first wife volunteered me to fuck her friend.
When my wife told me what my assignment was, I was stunned and I thought it might be some crazy form of entrapment, wherein if I agreed, I would be busted. Our arrangement was that I was to remain faithful to her, but I could fuck her whenever and wherever I wanted; she could open her legs to other men, if I approved of the man. But after half an hour of being filled in on all the details, I realized that she was sincere. Reluctantly, I agreed. Why reluctantly?
I had long before stipulated a set of rules governing my sexual adventures, such as never with a married woman or one in live-in situation with a boyfriend, never with a buddy’s ex, never with an ex-girlfriend’s close friend or family member, never with a coworker or close neighbor and, most importantly, never with an insane or intoxicated or unstable or emotionally distraught woman. And she fell right into at least two categories. In addition, I was told to provide a world-class, bring-home-gold-medal sexual performance, which added pressure; besides, what if I wasn’t her type?
The day arrived and my wife left for a four-hour shopping trip in the big city nearby. Her friend, Jennie, showed up at my door wearing sunglasses and short sundress with thin cloth straps across her lovely shoulders and wedge sandals. Sadly, she looked a complete mess. Unbelievably so, so much so that I barely recognized her. Her eyes were bloodshot and exhausted looking. Her posture was grim and she looked as if she had been beaten or seriously ill and had not fully recovered. She also looked like she had lost ten pounds. Even her lovely voice was hoarse. I hugged her warmly and I tried to keep things fun and light. The last thing I was sexually aroused.
I couldn’t bring myself to get things started, as it just didn’t feel right, so I told her we needed to get a drink. I owned a huge collection of alcoholic drinks, but I wanted to get outside. We walked down to pleasant restaurant with outside tables and we drank a beer and talked for an hour or so. We were very lucky not to run into anyone we knew. As we walked back, I wrapped my arm around her waist.
Once we were inside my place, we stood and I hugged and then kissed her for an amazingly long time, perhaps twenty minutes, until she seemed quite comfortable with me. We sat on the sofa and continued kissing. I loved her full lips, but I wished they were a tad more resilient, finding them too delicate. Our hands roamed over our bodies, but I made a point not to grab her breasts or ass. She wasn’t as reserved, her hand gripping my erection through my pants. She started to remove her dress, with an odd resoluteness, as if she was obeying orders, so I stopped her from doing so. Instead, I stood in front of her and I slowly took off all of my clothes and then hugged her with my naked body. She seemed puzzled, but happy. I held and kissed her for at least five minutes while we stood clutched together. We then continued kissing on the sofa, her in all her clothes, me naked, while she gripped my hard cock. (She wanted to suck my cock bad, but I wouldn’t let her.) Eventually, I made her stand in front of me and I slowly undressed her, kissing each freshly exposed portion of her body. When she was as naked as I was, I lifted her off the floor and carried her in our bedroom.
I loved her body; her last name was Germanic, but her mother was either Italian or Greek or Mexican or Portuguese and her flesh was beautifully olive-skinned and her hair was a lovely chestnut color. Her breasts were tailor-made for me, as they were slightly sub B-cup in size, with medium-sized areolas shaped in ovals, the sort of breasts I love to hold and suck. Her shapely German legs ended in a nicely round Latin ass. I had always imagined her being quite attractive naked, but the reality was even better than I expected. She reminded me a delicious exotic dish that I would never order on my own, but once I tasted it, I was overjoyed to eat it. And I truly wanted to eat her up in her entirety, to kiss, lick, caresses every inch of her body, to rub my cock over her face and breasts and hair, to run my tongue from her toes up over her legs and up her ass and burry my face in her curly dark pubic hair.
She was responding to my attentions and I told her how attractive I found her the first time we met, when she emerge from the swimming pool like Aphrodite from the sea. I told her how much I loved her laugh and voice and how her body was the stuff of wet dreams. I also told her about the times I had been dumped and how, no matter how severe the pain, I always thanked heaven afterwards. My confessions seemed to make the biggest difference, as she began smile and laugh freely afterwards. Indeed, she was taking on that I-need-you-to-fuck-me look.
She wanted me to mount her and begin fucking in earnest, but I teased her by keeping cock just an inch away from her opening. She contorted and arched here back, yearning to force her cunt onto my hard cock, but I pulled away just enough to prevent her. She asked in a pleading voice, "Aren't you going to fuck me?"
"Do you want me to," I asked.
"Yes, yes."
I fucked her, my cock sliding in her as straightforwardly as if we had fucked hundreds of time before.
I figured that her short ex-boyfriend could never pull off the Tarzan sexual feats that I could, my being so much taller and stronger. So I alternated between gentle, tender fucking and strongman feats, such as lifting her off the bed and fucking her in the air.
Under different circumstances, I might have begun falling in love with her, as we meshed beautifully and I loved playing with her generous folds of pussy lips, sucking them into my mouth, and dreamily looking into her large, soft brown eyes. Her vagina was not nearly as tight as my wife's, so I had no problem with cuming too soon. After I had cum in her, we got into the 69 position, with her on top. Her looser pussy more easily dripped my semen than my wife's tighter pussy would, which I found interesting, as my nose soaked in my own cum. She was impressed that my erection hadn't faded away. I was looking forward to cuming in her mouth while I licked her clit, but she wanted me to fuck her again.
After an afternoon of wonderful sex and two large wet-spots on the sheets, we cuddled in our bed. She smelled so different from my wife, different shampoo-scented hair, different perfume, different skin taste, and a much more sexually-strong pussy scent, which I relished, as it reminded me of girls in high school, whose hormone-driven pussies smelled of being in heat.
I noted that we would soon run out of time. I asked her if she wanted to take a shower with me. We played in the shower stall, kissing and rubbing our soap-covered bodies together. The thought of fucking her there definitely crossed my mind, but we had so little time left. We got out and were toweling ourselves, when she told me that she couldn’t let something very important pass her by. I was confused and she told me that she hadn’t made me cum in her mouth and not doing so would be something that she would always regret. I didn't say a word. In the bathroom, she got on her knees and sucked my cock to completion, swallowing every drop, not that it was a big load, as I had cum twice before in her pussy. I restored her to her feet and kissed her deeply, my cum still present in her mouth. All I could think was “What the fuck had her ex-boyfriend been thinking. She is amazing.”
We dressed, kissed some more and she left. I quickly changed the sheets in the bedroom and cleaned up all the evidence of what we had been doing, as I expected my wife to arrive any second. She didn't. My wife arrived well over an hour later than I had expected, a nice touch, I thought. I was nervous when she walked in the door. She looked me straight in the face and asked, “Did Jennie enjoy herself?”
“She did,” I replied.
“Did she orgasm?” she asked.
I nodded yes. I wanted to say many, many times, but I knew better. She turned her gaze away from my eyes and said, “Good, now never, ever mention any of it to me again.”
That was it. She meant it. We made love that night and no mention was made of what had happened earlier; the only evidence that something extraordinary had happened earlier was a slightly more enthusiastic sucking and fucking back by my wife. Getting to fuck my wife, so soon after having fucked Jennie, was fascinating, as the contrast was so great: my wife was at least two inches taller and five pounds heavier than Jennie, and with my wife's pale, freckled skin and full B-sized breasts and delicate labia and red pubic hair. If I had to choose either woman from a catalog, I would have certainly picked my wife, but based on how much I enjoyed fucking Jennie, the wiser pick could have been Jennie.
When I met Jennie again, it was supremely awkward. I wanted to give her just hug, she wanted to give me a kiss, and we fumbled the greeting. It was hard to go back to small talk after my having devoured her naked body and cum in her mouth. My wife acted as if it had never happened. The only time our encounter was alluded to was after a group us seen a movie filled with sex scenes and I overheard Jennie say to my wife that the leading man reminded her of me and they both knowingly giggled.
She emerged from the pool wearing a plain, black bikini, but which nonetheless showed off her fine, taut body. The bikini seemed to be one size to big. Perhaps, she had weighed more when she bought or perhaps she had borrowed the suit from the host's wife, but its loose fit made it all the more sexy, as her small breast were free to jiggle under the black cloth and the too large bikini bottom allowed he ass cheeks to peek out of hiding. In fact, her bottom looked like it would fall if she stood and opened her legs. She had beautiful shoulder length dark chestnut hair and soft voice. If I hadn’t just gotten attached to my wife, then girlfriend, I would have gone for her in an instant. She and I always got along.
But when her boyfriend dumped her, she didn’t sleep and cried throughout the day. My wife spent long hours with her, trying to bring her friend out of her despair. She complained to my wife that her ex-boyfriend was the perfect man for her, that he was so handsome and the finest lover she had ever had.
Seriously?
I had met him few times and I thought little of him, as he bore a snooty expression and walked as if he had butt plug in place. If someone told me that he was a closeted gay man, I wouldn’t have been shocked. My wife never much liked the fellow as well and his imputed last virtue, that of being an excellent lover, she thought ridiculous and she told her friend so.
This is where I entered the picture. My wife assured her that her ex-boyfriend could not the best at anything, especially at making love. I wasn’t there, so I do not know exactly how it happened, but my first wife volunteered me to fuck her friend.
When my wife told me what my assignment was, I was stunned and I thought it might be some crazy form of entrapment, wherein if I agreed, I would be busted. Our arrangement was that I was to remain faithful to her, but I could fuck her whenever and wherever I wanted; she could open her legs to other men, if I approved of the man. But after half an hour of being filled in on all the details, I realized that she was sincere. Reluctantly, I agreed. Why reluctantly?
I had long before stipulated a set of rules governing my sexual adventures, such as never with a married woman or one in live-in situation with a boyfriend, never with a buddy’s ex, never with an ex-girlfriend’s close friend or family member, never with a coworker or close neighbor and, most importantly, never with an insane or intoxicated or unstable or emotionally distraught woman. And she fell right into at least two categories. In addition, I was told to provide a world-class, bring-home-gold-medal sexual performance, which added pressure; besides, what if I wasn’t her type?
The day arrived and my wife left for a four-hour shopping trip in the big city nearby. Her friend, Jennie, showed up at my door wearing sunglasses and short sundress with thin cloth straps across her lovely shoulders and wedge sandals. Sadly, she looked a complete mess. Unbelievably so, so much so that I barely recognized her. Her eyes were bloodshot and exhausted looking. Her posture was grim and she looked as if she had been beaten or seriously ill and had not fully recovered. She also looked like she had lost ten pounds. Even her lovely voice was hoarse. I hugged her warmly and I tried to keep things fun and light. The last thing I was sexually aroused.
I couldn’t bring myself to get things started, as it just didn’t feel right, so I told her we needed to get a drink. I owned a huge collection of alcoholic drinks, but I wanted to get outside. We walked down to pleasant restaurant with outside tables and we drank a beer and talked for an hour or so. We were very lucky not to run into anyone we knew. As we walked back, I wrapped my arm around her waist.
Once we were inside my place, we stood and I hugged and then kissed her for an amazingly long time, perhaps twenty minutes, until she seemed quite comfortable with me. We sat on the sofa and continued kissing. I loved her full lips, but I wished they were a tad more resilient, finding them too delicate. Our hands roamed over our bodies, but I made a point not to grab her breasts or ass. She wasn’t as reserved, her hand gripping my erection through my pants. She started to remove her dress, with an odd resoluteness, as if she was obeying orders, so I stopped her from doing so. Instead, I stood in front of her and I slowly took off all of my clothes and then hugged her with my naked body. She seemed puzzled, but happy. I held and kissed her for at least five minutes while we stood clutched together. We then continued kissing on the sofa, her in all her clothes, me naked, while she gripped my hard cock. (She wanted to suck my cock bad, but I wouldn’t let her.) Eventually, I made her stand in front of me and I slowly undressed her, kissing each freshly exposed portion of her body. When she was as naked as I was, I lifted her off the floor and carried her in our bedroom.
I loved her body; her last name was Germanic, but her mother was either Italian or Greek or Mexican or Portuguese and her flesh was beautifully olive-skinned and her hair was a lovely chestnut color. Her breasts were tailor-made for me, as they were slightly sub B-cup in size, with medium-sized areolas shaped in ovals, the sort of breasts I love to hold and suck. Her shapely German legs ended in a nicely round Latin ass. I had always imagined her being quite attractive naked, but the reality was even better than I expected. She reminded me a delicious exotic dish that I would never order on my own, but once I tasted it, I was overjoyed to eat it. And I truly wanted to eat her up in her entirety, to kiss, lick, caresses every inch of her body, to rub my cock over her face and breasts and hair, to run my tongue from her toes up over her legs and up her ass and burry my face in her curly dark pubic hair.
She was responding to my attentions and I told her how attractive I found her the first time we met, when she emerge from the swimming pool like Aphrodite from the sea. I told her how much I loved her laugh and voice and how her body was the stuff of wet dreams. I also told her about the times I had been dumped and how, no matter how severe the pain, I always thanked heaven afterwards. My confessions seemed to make the biggest difference, as she began smile and laugh freely afterwards. Indeed, she was taking on that I-need-you-to-fuck-me look.
She wanted me to mount her and begin fucking in earnest, but I teased her by keeping cock just an inch away from her opening. She contorted and arched here back, yearning to force her cunt onto my hard cock, but I pulled away just enough to prevent her. She asked in a pleading voice, "Aren't you going to fuck me?"
"Do you want me to," I asked.
"Yes, yes."
I fucked her, my cock sliding in her as straightforwardly as if we had fucked hundreds of time before.
I figured that her short ex-boyfriend could never pull off the Tarzan sexual feats that I could, my being so much taller and stronger. So I alternated between gentle, tender fucking and strongman feats, such as lifting her off the bed and fucking her in the air.
Under different circumstances, I might have begun falling in love with her, as we meshed beautifully and I loved playing with her generous folds of pussy lips, sucking them into my mouth, and dreamily looking into her large, soft brown eyes. Her vagina was not nearly as tight as my wife's, so I had no problem with cuming too soon. After I had cum in her, we got into the 69 position, with her on top. Her looser pussy more easily dripped my semen than my wife's tighter pussy would, which I found interesting, as my nose soaked in my own cum. She was impressed that my erection hadn't faded away. I was looking forward to cuming in her mouth while I licked her clit, but she wanted me to fuck her again.
After an afternoon of wonderful sex and two large wet-spots on the sheets, we cuddled in our bed. She smelled so different from my wife, different shampoo-scented hair, different perfume, different skin taste, and a much more sexually-strong pussy scent, which I relished, as it reminded me of girls in high school, whose hormone-driven pussies smelled of being in heat.
I noted that we would soon run out of time. I asked her if she wanted to take a shower with me. We played in the shower stall, kissing and rubbing our soap-covered bodies together. The thought of fucking her there definitely crossed my mind, but we had so little time left. We got out and were toweling ourselves, when she told me that she couldn’t let something very important pass her by. I was confused and she told me that she hadn’t made me cum in her mouth and not doing so would be something that she would always regret. I didn't say a word. In the bathroom, she got on her knees and sucked my cock to completion, swallowing every drop, not that it was a big load, as I had cum twice before in her pussy. I restored her to her feet and kissed her deeply, my cum still present in her mouth. All I could think was “What the fuck had her ex-boyfriend been thinking. She is amazing.”
We dressed, kissed some more and she left. I quickly changed the sheets in the bedroom and cleaned up all the evidence of what we had been doing, as I expected my wife to arrive any second. She didn't. My wife arrived well over an hour later than I had expected, a nice touch, I thought. I was nervous when she walked in the door. She looked me straight in the face and asked, “Did Jennie enjoy herself?”
“She did,” I replied.
“Did she orgasm?” she asked.
I nodded yes. I wanted to say many, many times, but I knew better. She turned her gaze away from my eyes and said, “Good, now never, ever mention any of it to me again.”
That was it. She meant it. We made love that night and no mention was made of what had happened earlier; the only evidence that something extraordinary had happened earlier was a slightly more enthusiastic sucking and fucking back by my wife. Getting to fuck my wife, so soon after having fucked Jennie, was fascinating, as the contrast was so great: my wife was at least two inches taller and five pounds heavier than Jennie, and with my wife's pale, freckled skin and full B-sized breasts and delicate labia and red pubic hair. If I had to choose either woman from a catalog, I would have certainly picked my wife, but based on how much I enjoyed fucking Jennie, the wiser pick could have been Jennie.
When I met Jennie again, it was supremely awkward. I wanted to give her just hug, she wanted to give me a kiss, and we fumbled the greeting. It was hard to go back to small talk after my having devoured her naked body and cum in her mouth. My wife acted as if it had never happened. The only time our encounter was alluded to was after a group us seen a movie filled with sex scenes and I overheard Jennie say to my wife that the leading man reminded her of me and they both knowingly giggled.
Absolutely not, I am not allowed any action other than with her. She can play as and when she wants but I do wish she play with it here’s a bit more often
Hey.... no... not drugged.. are you kidding me.. i meant both waa done secretly on the family getaway so no other family member would suspect anything... secretly and discreetly...
Yes wife has return the favored bring home some girls or letting me have sex with women I have told her about.
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