I know almost nothing about her. Yet here we are in this hotel room. Naked. Well, I am, flopped back on the bed, panting hard. She's standing at its foot in a gorgeous stretchy red bodysuit that hugs her voluptuous figure, bouncy tits nearly spilling from the top. Blonde tresses that reach her waist cascade over their roundness, dusting the fabric as she shakes her mane and smiles.

The taut material accentuates her curves, the shapely allure that first piqued my interest. In a sea of cookie-cutter profile photos featuring women like sticks of airbrushed pepperami, all false eyelashes, nails, lip filler and fake tan, hers stood out; a real fuck you, this is me, deal with it vibe. Natural. Rubenesque. Oozing confidence in front of the lens. And probably half my age, although that aspect had very little bearing.

My cum cools, drying in the air-con, splattered in a ragged diagonal line from my belly to shoulder. As my breathing slows, I drift my attention down to the dripping, dark blue strap-on dangling from her waist. I can barely believe she fucked me with it. Looks huge.

But like a needy puppy, I'd begged her for more. Harder, as she stroked my shaft and kept me on edge until she was certain I couldn't take any more. Until she eventually agreed I could cum.

And cum I did, arcing spunk to spray over my skin and drip through her fingers as she cooed with delight and encouraged more, the pumping toy relentless in my, until today, virgin arse.

She leans over me, affording more than two eyefuls of amazing cleavage, and laps at the salty residue, making a show of pooling it in her mouth and swallowing. “Mmmm, naughty boy making a mess I have to clean up.”

“Sorry, Miss.”

Grabbing my wet, splotched cock, she wraps her lips around it and vacuums off the white remnants. I moan throughout, until all that's left is glistening saliva.

Her kisses and laps continue up my body, and I reach down to cup her amazing rack, guiding her up further until she crawls over me. Her thighs brush my cheeks, the dappled heat of her covered pussy an inch from my mouth.

She purrs. “Oh, naughty boy wants this, does he?” Her hips sway, swooping so close to my mouth and nose that I swear it takes every ounce of self-control to not lift my head and bury my face in her. “You want some of this?”

I just moan.

“Or do you want all of this?”

My groan is louder, becoming muffled when her fragrant heat lands on my mouth and nose. I sigh into her and gently rock my face side to side, tongue sweeping her folds through the fabric. She lifts clear, tugs the garment aside to reveal how sticky her hairless snatch really is, and lands hard on my mouth again. I tongue her folds, in heaven.

“Yes, that's perfect, my pet. Keep that up, yeah, just like that.”

The pressure increases and I moan harder as more of her weight crushes me. I shove my tongue up inside her, nose connecting with her clit, unearthly snarls escaping every so often when she allows me to gasp in air. It's clear she adores being in control and I'm deliriously happy to be on the receiving end.

All too soon, she lifts off, silver strings of webbed juice connecting us. Her bare snatch reflects the light from the gooseneck lamps built into the headboard. She reaches down, rubs her clit, splays her lips, lowers, and glides her dripping labia around my outstretched tongue. They're slow, rhythmic gestures, each designed to transfer more of her juices to me and flick her clit at the apex of each sweep.

“Fuck, you're so good at servicing my cunt. Does pet want my cum? Hmm? Can you handle it?”

I nod enthusiastically and she grinds her pussy against me. Lifts. “Sure? I cum hard. You might get a bit.” Her hips descend, full weight mashing my head against the bed. “Squashed and soaked.”

She knows it's rhetorical. Rises, letting me breathe in air tinged with her arousal. Angles the strap-on down and shoves it in my mouth.

“Mmffmmm.”

I cough and gag around it, and she starts fucking my face. “Take it. Take my cock, you dirty boy. Clean it. Earn my cunt.”

My hands clap to her bum, but she grabs them off, slams them either side of my head on the pillow and pins me there by the wrists.

Slurping and twitching, I suck the toy as she rams it in further with each stroke. Spit flies, and I moan and gurp until she yanks it free, dripping, and crushes her slit to my eager mouth. “You gonna make me cum, huh? Cum all over your slutty face? That what you want, fucktoy?”

I couldn't answer if I wanted to. Her pussy is my entire focus, smothering me, her hips clenching around my temples as she chases the orgasm. “Fuck. Fuuuuck. Yes. Make me cum on your face. Be a good boy for me. Tak… take it. Ohh.”

The last word tails off into a sustained moan and she grinds hard, fresh wetness drizzling into my mouth. I swallow. Lick when I’m able, but can do nothing except bask in her spilling need.

It's exactly what I want my wife to do, but she refuses. Says she'll crush me. Doesn't grasp that's the whole point; that flush of helplessness, the taste of her heat, and her uncontrollable groans that ping off the bare walls as she brings herself off. It's the trust I crave. The excitement of being out of control, a mere vessel for her pleasure when she takes what she needs without having to keep checking if I'm okay.

Amanda had shut down. All but convinced herself that age had tossed her onto the sexual scrap heap, and wouldn't entertain intimacy of any form. Wouldn’t even let me take my time meandering kisses over her skin like we used to, ending with my face buried between her legs as she clawed the sheets, her cries filling the bedroom.

My urges hadn't abated. I fought them at first. Masturbated in my office to homemade porn; real couples enjoying what I no longer could; solo housewives with real rapture on their faces shoving dildoes inside themselves, using vibrators, nipple clamps, butt plugs. They were so free in those moments of joy, I envied them. Wanted them. Contacted a few, but guilt overshadowed me and nothing came of it.

Until her. Username: curiousmynd. Profile chock full of videos, the majority of her simply trying on lingerie and asking her legions of followers which they preferred. What they'd do to her if she wore it for them.

And they told her in the comments. My word, they told her, in crude remarks and colourful, badly-spelled phrases. I guess the typos were because their dominant hand was occupied.

She revelled in the attention. There were videos of her masturbating. In the bath. On the bed. Even on the way to work, finishing with flashes of her wet slit from under her desk. Videos of her getting fucked, claiming to be guys from her channel who lived close enough for hookups.

She was shameless. Bubbly. Sassy. Perpetually horny. And, it turned out, a hundred miles from me. We split the difference, give or take, and after a few months of procrastinating, I found deliverance face first between the thighs of a comparative stranger.

She quakes on my face. Mewls when she cums and I soar as she gives me everything. Her juices rain, drizzle, ooze and every other suitable adjective across my eager mouth and nose. I can't get enough.

When her gyrations slow, she lets go of my wrists, lifts clear of my face and strokes a fingertip across my glazed cheek as I haul in oxygen laced with her essence. She brings her loaded finger to her mouth and makes a show of licking it clean. “Mmmmm. You're so naughty. Think my fans will enjoy watching that?”

I'd agreed to the camera as long as my face never made it online. I know she respects that. I've seen the other videos. All of them.

“Yes, Miss. Thank you.”

“Uh uh,” she holds up the wet fingertip. “Remember the rules. I'm not to be thanked. What am I?”

My eyes rake her body. From the fake cock to the tumbling waves of hair that halo in the light from the desk behind. I rest a hand on her thigh. Slide it up to meet the soft material of the bodysuit, up over the subtle hump of her belly, up to cup a weighty breast. “You're a filthy whore.”

Her eyes drift shut as I play with her tits. Squeeze them.

“You're a dirty slut, fucking strangers, filming them.” I pinch both nipples through the shiny fabric. “Do you watch them back? Get off all over again at your performances?”

She nods. Bites her lip. Gasps when I twist her nipples.

“Yeah, you’re a dirty little bitch, aren't you? Love the idea of being someone else's fantasy. Someone’s porn.”

“Oh god yess.”

“The thought of men wanking themselves into a stupor over your pics and videos makes you ravenously horny. You can't help yourself.”

I slap a breast and she moans. Slap the other, harder. “Do you think they'd like to see you out of control for once? A begging mess?”

“Fffuckk.”

“Mmm, look at you. So needy.” I grab her tits, scoop them out of her top and fondle the flesh that spills over my hands. “Want me to own your slutty little cunt?”

Her groan rings out.

“Sure?”

She nods.

“But what if I like your begging too much, and don't quite let you cum? I don't just give away orgasms because you want one. What if I keep you on the brink until you're out of your fucking pretty mind? Watch you writhing and clutching at the sheets, the toy inside you buzzing when I want it to, keeping you on edge.”

Her eyes drift open and she fixes me with a stare. “I want that. All of it.”

“Sure? Pleasure needs to be earned.”

Her nod is swift. Determined.

“Then take this off.” I point at the strap-on.

She climbs off me. Stands and I roll off the bed while she unbuckles the harness. Rummaging through the bag she brought, I find the remote vibe we've used during steamy chat sessions from afar. Grab my phone and sync the devices.

I point at the bed and she sashays towards it, provocatively swaying her hips as she clambers on.

“You can't help yourself, can you? Fucking tease. Stop.”

She freezes. I approach. Rest my palm on her rump and stroke the curvature where the bodysuit meets it. Lift my hand and swish it down. She squeaks when the crack rings out. Groans.

“Oh yeah? Dirty slut likes that, huh?”

She wiggles her arse. I pull my hand back. Splat it against her full flesh. Rub. “More?”

She nods.

“Say it.”

“Mmmm. Spank me. Make it sting.”

I crash my palm into her butt. Soothe the impact point, then pull back and strike her again. Left. Right. Pause. Over and over in a ragged, unpredictable series until the blush creeps from the hem of her bodysuit and her whimpers fill the room.

Resting my hand on the warm skin, I shove sideways to roll her over. Point. She shuffles and moves until I'm happy her pussy is aimed directly at the camera on the tripod. I pick up the remote vibrator, spit on it and place it in her palm, then retreat out of shot.

Once her suit is pulled aside, the toy, like an elongated ‘C’, slides in easily, its secondary arm—and second motor—directly over her glimmering clit.

I sweep my gaze over her. “You have the most amazing tits. Show them off. Squeeze. Pinch your nipples.”

She does and her mouth drops open as I reward her with a sustained blast from the toy. The motor inside her vibrates and I lower the intensity before it overwhelms her, maintaining a low rumble to keep her arousal ticking over. It's enough that juices drizzle from around the toy to drip into the crease of her arse and then to the sheets.

“Mmm, rub that in. I want you to choose a buttplug.”

I hold up two offerings from her bag. One is a long, silicone affair. Electric pink. Seven or eight ridges diagonally spiral its surface. The other is metal, squatter, and much fatter, with a jeweled base.

She regards both. “Metal.”

I raise an eyebrow. Hand it over along with a tube of lube, and watch her prepare, squirting a dollop on the toy and smearing it, then some on her hole. She tents her knees, reaches down and offers the fat head of the toy to her tight ring and future audience.

The camera captures every millimetre. Every sharp inhalation as it splits her. The thing is colossal at its widest point, probably double the width of the cock she used on me, and she works it in methodically, diligently, easing it forward then reversing a tiny bit, pushing a shade more in each time.

Her little whimpers and moans ramp as the widest part approaches, and she concentrates. Pants. Biting her lip and stifling groans as the fat toy creeps inside, I occasionally nudge the vibrations up to make it more difficult to focus.

I love that deep sigh when the plug slips home, and reward her with a creeping increase in the toy's insistent vibrations in her adjacent hole, my finger steady on the controls.

“Still haven't decided if I'll let you cum. I might. But I probably won't. I'll likely just…”

I dial it up higher. Higher. Higher until her moans collide into one long groan and she starts to beg to be tipped over the edge.

“That's not begging. I know what begging sounds like, and that's not it. I want you delirious. Almost incoherent. Like the tiniest touch, the most minuscule nudge from the toy to the next intensity step will break your resolve.”

She's not there yet. Not even close.

Doesn't stop her pussy dripping. I step into frame, still naked, reach out and collect a healthy fingertip full, sampling her arousal with a theatrical suck. “Mmmm, delicious. But not enough. Not yet.” My eyes find hers. ”What do you think?”

She does the same as me. Moans as she tastes herself. Nods. “Creamy and sweet.”

“But could be sweeter.”

“If you say so.”

I reduce the buzzing, hold it there, retaking my seat perched against the desk edge, out of camera range.

Her pussy glimmers in the light. So wet. So needy. Every few seconds, I creep the vibrations higher. Her chants grow louder with the toy's volume. "I wanna cum, please let me cum. Pleassse."

I wag my finger. “Sounds a bit like begging. But not quite.”

Sweeping the intensity down to zero, I let the echoes of the buzz die away with her swaying hips. Watch her anticipate the rise of the vibrations again. A frustrated whimper escapes when they don't arrive. I wait, then slam it up to full power and she squeaks. Moans.

I back it off to zero. Her thighs are slick with juices where she's clapped them together and spread them to try and control her impending climax. Gradually, I slide my finger up the display in my hand.

“That's an amazing sight. You like being on the cusp of orgasm?”

She bites her lip. “Mmhmm.”

“You want more?”

She nods. I creep higher. Her moans intensify with it.

“God, I want to fuck you. Grip your hips and slam into you like this.”

I swoop the vibrations up and down in a steady rhythm, mimicking my cock, a faster little snap up to full power when our hips would almost touch, then back it off to zero as I exit. If I was in her, I’d make sure to pull out fully so her pussy lips closed, before I split them once more.

Over and over, I ease the toy to almost full strength, snap to the max, then back off. Sometimes I'll complete the sweep fast, other times agonisingly slow.

When she's muttering, “Gonna cum... fuck, can't hold on, fuck,” I put my finger on the clit control. As the main motor swoops towards full power, I spike her clit and tail off. She writhes and groans, clutching at the sheets. “Fuck I can't hold it.”

“Yes you can. And you will. Don't disappoint me or there'll be consequences. I want to capture your downfall the same as you did mine.”

I let the rumbles die away. She exhales, blowing stray hair off her face. “Consequences?”

“Consequences.”

“Like?”

“Like if you cum without permission, I'll tear this toy out and spank your cunt until you’re on the very cusp of orgasm, then stop.”

She stares. Before she can respond, I sweep both motors to max and back down again.

“I'm going to replay this video over and over, and I'll cum hard every time, when you do. I want to relive every whimper, every stuttered breath, every half syllable of your attempts at begging.”

I pick up speed, rhythmic buzzes cutting through the quiet. The main motor, followed by the clit pulse. Each time, she rocks and groans, her belly and tits shaking within the confines of the bodysuit. So fucking sexy.

When she starts teetering on the edge of losing control, I slow the ‘thrusts’ and listen to the way her moans alter, deep and long and loud as she craves release.

I pause. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”

Of course she’s eager to say yes. But I’m not convinced. I think she can take more.

I issue some rapid sweeps. Full intensity then nothing... Max. Zero. Max. As if my face is buried in her delicious pussy, and I’m worshipping her cunt by licking and probing my tongue, snarling against the increasing wetness.

Guess I’m greedy, because I want to taste everything. To drown in her orgasms, at the same time she does.

Leaving the main motor dormant, I concentrate solely on the clit icon on my phone, watching her reactions as the vibrations mimic my tongue fluttering across her pearl, my hot breaths encircling it as I wrap my lips around it and suck.

Every incoherent whimper is captured on the video. Every drip that oozes past the toy. Every quake. Her rising gasps, digitized.

I back off, heightening the sensation. Her groans are definitely not from any sense of duty. She's not acting like she otherwise might for her channel. These are primal, feral, fucking animalistic rasps of pure desire. She twitches as each blast of the clit vibe bites. Groans when I shut it off. Arches off the bed and shrieks when I roll my finger up the screen and max it out.

When she edits the video and uploads it, all her fans and followers will see her falling apart. Hear her desperation. Her begging through gritted teeth, “Pleasse fucking please just fucking make me fucking cum.” And they’ll grab their dicks and jack themselves stupid over her. They’ll paint their desks, their bellies, maybe even splatter globs of white directly over her video. She’s worth every tribute. And she'll probably masturbate watching them all.

I slam both motors of the toy to full power and ride it around the peak as she cries out, body snapping this way and that, wriggling and swaying as the waves build and burst.

It's time.

“Cum for me, my dirty little slut.”

She gasps, “Thank you,” which turns into a series of staccato breaths, then groans, the toy throbbing inside her, walls clenching around it in a sustained beat that threatens to never end.

"Good girl. That’s it. Cum hard." She loses every semblance of control, and if the rooms either side of ours are in use, their occupants will either have their heads buried under pillows or will be stroking along to the throaty rasps she emits.

Her soaked cunt grips the toy, its insistent buzzing lengthening the orgasm. She’s adrift in the waves of release, heat flushing her skin before the shivers ripple through. She screams.

“Fuckstopstopstop.”

I dutifully release the sliders and the toy silences. Her high continues, pulsing, then gradually ebbs. Her groans turn to giggles and I let them play out, watching the way her mouth changes shape as the joy spreads.

Eventually, she slumps back to the bed, panting, strands of hair plastered to her temples. She stares straight up for a long while, then rolls her head to make eye contact with me. “You’ve made another mess.”

Placing my phone on the desk, I step in, slithering hands up both thighs, gripping the toy and sliding it free. I bring it to my mouth and suck it clean, then toss it aside, lie between her legs and take my time lapping her drenched pussy of wayward juices.

I periodically flick my eyes to hers so she knows how much I adore worshipping her delicious cunt. The sweet nectar coats my tongue and lips, and I hungrily devour everything I can find as she giggles and finally bats my head away.

Crawling onto the bed and flopping to one side, I stroke her thigh. Kiss her shoulder. Drift with her.

I ought to feel guilty. I still adore my wife, away with her friends for a West End show and night on the town. She's undeniably my soulmate. Yet I’ve spent the evening being fucked by, and toying with, a filthy, horny and dangerously beautiful slut I barely know. It doesn't make sense. It's irrational. Foolish. But it has, albeit temporarily, satisfied my physical cravings.

Maybe the guilt will hit me in the morning when I wake up alongside her to realise it’s not all a dream, and we merely share awkward silences over McMuffins. Or maybe it’ll be eclipsed by hauling her to all fours by her hair and entering her roughly from behind, pounding the sweetest cunt and tightest arse I’ve ever experienced as she begs for more. I don’t know… I don't know what I feel. Lust? Love? Adrenaline? Or is it just endorphins, fuelled by the scent of her coating my cheeks?

My reverie is interrupted by her hand brushing my firm cock. She pauses. “Erm, mister. What do we have here?”

I shrug. Catch her eye. “Maybe you should suck it to find out?”