Speaker 1: The brass knocker felt frigid in my hand. I'd been
waiting exactly thirteen seconds since ringing the bell, long enough
that my heart had found its way back down from
my throat, long enough to register the ache in my
cheeks from the smile i'd been holding since the taxi
dropped me off. The fur coat hung heavy on my shoulders, sable,
dark and scandalously warm against skin that was otherwise bare
except for the black lace cage i'd fastened myself into
an hour earlier in a hotel bathroom, hands trembling with
a particular species of adrenaline i'd never quite gotten used to.
A shadow passed behind the frosted glass panel. Then the
door swung inward. He was maybe thirty five, brown hair
that needed cutting, a jaw that hadn't met a razor
in three days, and eyes that went through about four
different emotions in the space of a single heartbeat. Confusion, recognition, disbelief,
and then oh, there it was the slow dawning terror
of a man who just realized his secret podcast habit
had materialized on his doorstep. Honey, A woman's voice floated
out from somewhere deeper in the house. Cheerful, unsuspecting who's
at the door. His mouth opened, nothing came out. I
let the first slide off my left shoulder, just an inch,
just enough so he could see the strap beneath. Hi,
I said, And my voice was exactly the same as
it was on the podcast, that low, conspiratorial purr I'd
practiced for one hundred episodes. I'm Sarah from Sex Stories.
I paused, letting the name land. You're this month's winter,
and I'm here to make all your fantasies come true.
The color drained from his face, then rushed back, doubled
footsteps behind him, a woman appeared at his shoulder, shorter
than him, curves wrapped in a thin cotton robe, dark
hair twisted up in a clip that was already losing
the battle. She took in the scene, her husband frozen,
the woman on the doorstep, the fur coat, the smile
I hadn't dropped. Her brow furrowed, then her eyes sharpened, widened,
her lips parted, and she sucked in a breath that
made her chest rise against the robe's lapel. And she said,
in a voice that cracked halfway through, that's the girl
from the podcast. A bead of silence. The husband's throat worked.
Then she finished the sentence, and her voice had changed
entirely lower, now a little rough, like she'd just remembered
something she wasn't supposed to say out loud, the one
we listened to while we fuck. The word hung in
the air between the three of us. I watched it land,
watched her cheeks flush, watched her husband's hand grip the
door frame. I arched an eyebrow. Well, that's the idea,
isn't it. Nobody moved for three full seconds. Then I
stepped forward, and they stepped back, and the door clicked
shut behind me. The living room was warm and smelled
like vanilla candles and whatever they'd had for dinner, something
with garlic. And none of that mattered, because the wife's
robe was already on the floor, and my coat had
joined it somewhere near the sofa. And now I was
on my knees on their carpet, with nothing but lace
cupping my breasts and a thong that was more suggestion
than garment. The husband's belt buckle was cold against my knuckles. Wait,
he breathed, but his hips pushed forward even as he
said it, and his wife I still didn't know her name,
and somehow that made it better. His wife was kneeling
beside me, her robe gaping open, one breast visible, and
the nipple already tight. Don't wait, she said, And it
wasn't to him, it was to me. I tugged his
jeans down, and his cock sprang free, thick, already slick
at the tip, curving slightly upward toward his belly. The
wife's breath caught at the sight of it, which told
me she never got tired of looking, And that piece
of information settled somewhere warm in my my chest. You first,
I murmured, and leaned toward her, and got down low.
My tongue found her before my lips did, the flat
of it, dragging up the inside of her thigh, leaving
a wet trail that glistened in the lamplight. She made
a sound, a sharp, surprised exhale, and her hand flew
to the back of my head, not pushing, just resting there, trembling.
The husband watched his cock in his own hand, now
stroking slow and stunned. I reached her cunt and licked
into her without preamble, my tongue parting her folds in
one deliberate sweep, tasting the salt and the heat and
that faint sweetness that meant she'd been wet since the doorstep,
maybe before, maybe since she'd realized who I was. Oh fuck,
she was, Oh fuck. I worked her in slow circles,
letting my tongue flatten and curl, letting her hips start
to rock against my face. Then I pulled back just
enough that a single glistening thread stretched from my bottom
lip to her clit, catching the light. I turned my head.
His cock was inches away. I dragged my tongue from
the base of his shaft to the tip in one motion,
and the thread broke and re formed, now connecting his
head to my mouth instead, A slick bridge of her
and him mingled. Jesus, he managed. I swallowed him. My
lips stretched around his girth, and I took him deep,
letting my throat relax, letting him feel the heat and
the wet and the impossible tightness. His hand fisted in
my hair behind me, the wife made a sound that
was half moan and half laugh, the laugh of someone
who couldn't believe this was happening. I pulled off him
with a pop, and turned back to her, sucking her
clit between my lips until her thighs clamped around my ears.
Bedroom I said it wasn't a question. They led me
there like I was a guest and a conqueror all
at once. The sheets were gray, the pillows were plentiful.
I pushed the wife onto her back and swung my
leg over her face before she could speak, lowering my
cunt onto her mouth with a slow, deliberate grind. Her
tongue found me immediately, eager, unpracticed, but enthusiastic, lapping upward
in strokes that made my spine arch. And then I
bent forward and took her husband back into my mouth.
For a long moment, there was nothing but wait, sounds
and muffled moans beneath me, the wife's tongue tracing my slit,
her nose bumping my clit when I rocked forward, her
hands gripping my ass, the husband's cock hitting the back
of my throat, my spit running down his shaft, my
hand working what I couldn't fit. I want to watch,
the wife gasped from beneath me, her voice vibrating against
my cunt. I want to see you take him I
lifted off her face, rolled onto my hands and knees,
looked over my shoulder, then watch. She scrambled up behind me,
and I felt her fingers on my ass cheeks before
I felt him. She spread me open wide, wider, exposing everything.
And then her tongue was there, dragging from my clit
to my entrance, slicking the way. And then her husband's
cock pressed against me. She was still licking when he
pushed in. Her tongue flicked across my swollen flesh, and
then caught the underside of his shaft as he entered,
tasting us, both watching up close as inch after inch
disappeared into me. I could hear her breathing, fast and wet.
Her cheek pressed against my hip. Oh my god, she whispered,
You're so deep inside her, he groaned, his fingers dug
into my hips. She's so fucking tight. The wife's tongue returned,
now licking his length as he withdrew, now circling my
clit as he thrust back in. The coordination was clumsy, desperate,
obscenely perfect. I felt myself clench around him, felt her
moan against my skin, felt the whole impossible geometry of
three people collapsing into one rhythm. I'm close, I gasped,
don't stop. They didn't, but I wasn't ready to finish yet.
I pulled away earn in a desperate whimper from the
wife and a guttural sound from the husband, and repositioned them,
her on top, straddling my face, him between my legs. Now,
I said, and the word was muffled because her cunt
was already descending. She tasted different this time, wilder, more urgent.
I ate her with the flat of my tongue, while
her husband lined himself up and thrust into me from below,
and the angle was so deep I cried out against
her flesh. Above me, they found each other's mouths. I
couldn't see it. My vision was nothing but her thighs
and the dark triangle of her sex. But I could
hear it, the slick sound of their kissing, the ragged
exchange of breath. Look at her, he growled against his
wife's lips. I know she panted. I can feel her tongue.
Oh fuck, don't stop. Don't either of you fucking stop?
You like watching me fuck another woman? Yes, I love it.
I love your big cock inside her I love her
mouth on me. She broke off into a scream. Her
thighs clamped around my skull and her back arched, and
I felt the pulse of her orgasm against my lips,
the flood of heat, the rhythmic clenching. I drank her
through it, my tongue relentless, my own cunt tightening around
her husband's cock as he drove into me with short,
brutal strokes. I'm gonna come, he choked, Sarah. I'm I
couldn't answer, couldn't speak, could only clamp down and feel
the hot surge as he emptied inside me, groan tearing
through the room, His wife still trembling and gasping above
my face. For a long moment, no one moved. Then
I gently shifted her off me and rose onto my elbows.
His seamen was already beginning to trickle down my inner thigh.
I crawled toward him, her husband still half hard, still
breathing like a marathon runner, and pulled his face to mine.
The kiss was slow, deliberate. I let him taste his
wife on my tongue. When I pulled back, his eyes
were glassy. I turned to her, then lay back on
the pillows they'd bought together in the bed they'd shared
for years, and spread my legs now, I said, looking
from one to the other, your turn to repay the favor.
They descended, like they'd been waiting their whole lives for permission.
Her tongue hung found my asshole, his found my clit,
And when I finally came, screaming, arching, gripping fistfuls of
gray sheets, I let the sound pour out of me, unfiltered,
the same voice they had heard through their headphones a
hundred times, now live and raw and close enough to touch. Afterward,
still catching my breath, still slick with them, and they
with me. I swung my legs over the side of
the bed and retrieved my fur coat from the floor,
draped it over my shoulders, turned back to face them, sprawled, spent, glowing,
and fucked good. I hope you enjoyed one hundred episodes
of sexy stories, I said, And my voice was raw,
now honest, the purr replaced by something closer to a promise,
keep listening. I adjusted the coat, let it slip just enough.
Maybe one day you'll get a knock at the door.
A pause. The wife's hand found her husband's I smiled,
and you could be a winner with me. With me.
I hoped you enjoyed today's Sexy Story. If you love
this podcast, leave an Apple review, Share what sexy fantasies
you want to hear. Maybe we can make your dirty
dreams come true. See you soon.