It was a warm Saturday night in September, and my husband had invited his old college buddy, Can, over for drinks and to watch the game. They’d been close for years—Can was the best man at our wedding, always around for barbecues and holidays. He’s 36, tall, ruggedly handsome with a thick beard, broad shoulders, and that easy confidence that made me notice him more than I should have. My husband, Emre, is great, but lately our sex life had been routine, and I’d been feeling neglected, horny in ways I couldn’t shake.
The game went late, beers turned into whiskey, and Emre passed out on the couch around midnight, snoring heavily. Can and I stayed up talking in the kitchen, laughing quietly about old stories. I was in a thin silk nightdress that barely reached mid-thigh, no bra, nipples hard from the cool air and the way his eyes kept dropping to my chest. I caught him staring at my ass when I bent over to grab another bottle from the fridge.
The tension snapped when he stepped closer, hand brushing my hip as he reached past me. I didn’t move away. Instead I turned, looked up at him, and whispered, “He’s out cold.” That was all it took. Can grabbed my waist hard, pulled me against him, and kissed me rough, tongue shoving deep into my mouth while his big hands squeezed my ass cheeks possessively.
He growled low, “I’ve wanted to fuck you for years,” and lifted me onto the kitchen counter, yanking my nightdress up to my waist. My panties were soaked already. He ripped them off, spread my legs wide, and buried his face in my amcık, licking my clit hard and fast, tongue plunging inside my wet hole while two thick fingers fucked me deep. I gripped his hair, moaning into my hand to stay quiet, grinding against his beard as he ate me out like a starving man until I came hard, squirting all over his mouth.
He stood up, unzipped his jeans, and pulled out his massive yarak—thicker and longer than my husband’s, veiny, rock-hard, head swollen and leaking precum. He rubbed it up and down my dripping amcık, teasing my entrance until I begged quietly, “Sik beni, lütfen.” He slammed inside me in one brutal thrust, stretching my tight amcık wide, filling me completely as I gasped and clawed his back.
He fucked me savagely on the counter, hips pounding hard, balls slapping loud against my ass with every deep sik. One hand choked my throat lightly, the other pinched my hard nipples while he grunted how much tighter and wetter my amcık was than he’d imagined. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, coming again fast, my walls spasming around his fat yarak as juices ran down my thighs.
He didn’t stop—carried me to the living room, bent me over the arm of the couch right next to where my husband was snoring, and rammed back into my amcık from behind. The risk made it hotter; every hard thrust pushed me forward, my tits bouncing as he destroyed my hole, slapping my ass red and calling me his dirty secret whore. I pushed back desperately, taking every inch, coming a third time with my face buried in a pillow to muffle my screams.
Finally he pulled out, spun me around, forced me to my knees, and shoved his slick yarak down my throat, fucking my mouth hard until I gagged. He groaned loud, “Swallow it all,” and exploded—thick, hot ropes of cum shooting deep into my throat, filling my mouth while I swallowed greedily, some dripping down my chin onto my tits.
He zipped up, kissed me once more tasting himself on my lips, and slipped out the back door quietly. I fixed my nightdress, wiped my face, and crawled into bed next to my still-sleeping husband, body trembling, amcık sore and leaking Can’s cum. The next morning he acted normal over breakfast, but his knowing smirk across the table made me wet all over again. We’ve been fucking behind Emre’s back ever since—quick hard sikiş in the garage, late nights when Emre’s away, him using my amcık however he wants. I’m addicted to his huge yarak and the thrill of almost getting caught.
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