241015例の車に乗って叡智なことされたe8

The Submissive Ride – A Lewd Japanese Story

Yumi frowned as she watched her husband, Toshi, strut into their bedroom, grabbed his sports coat hanging neatly in the closet, and announced, “Budget meeting tonight. Won’t be back till late.” Her killer dump truck body language and the look of utter disdain she threw him as he greedily snatched a few last glances at her shapely rump forced him to quickly exit. “See ya!” he muttered, relieved to make a hasty escape.

As the front door clicked shut, Yumi sighed and flopped onto the bed. Another Friday night alone alone with her video games. She glanced at her console and wrinkled her nose with displeasure. Somehow the allure was fading. She longed for something more stimulating to occupy her lonely evenings.

Her emerald eyes settled on the old box in the closet corner – the one marked “Stuff from Prom”. Curious, she pulled it out. Stuffed inside were art club photos, bad techno music, and other remnants of her days at obedience school a decade ago. Bottom of the box was an ancient iPhone SE. The last few years of the ugh-shaped smartphone era. Hot damn, this thing was a relic from the dawn of technology!

Aggressively stuffing the other keepsakes back into the box (and nearly re-injuring her tight core walls in the process), Yumi fiddled with the iPhone and powered it on. Miraculously, the whopping 1,000mAH battery just barely eked out enough juice to turn on. But, oh was this clamshell failboat slow! Still, once she managed to get to the camera app, she giggled. What harm could come from snapping a few vintage-quality digital photos for her husband to find on Monday morning?

She carefully aimed the lens at her ample bosom straining against her tight sweater and locked her arms into place with her glutes. A click later and she was smiling wickedly. “Looks like you’re getting these hooters back, babe! Hope you’re sitting down.” She growled the villainous laughter of an evil mastermind. At least, it would have been, if she hadn’t forgotten to mute the phone while focusing on getting the right angle. Ignatz somehow knew she was up to no good. Better do it right next time.

Breathing heavily, she tried again, this time successfully taking a momentary break from the intrusive iPhone teases to throw the camera strap over her head, pull up her sweater, and align the lens with her chubby chest. Aimed ever-so-perfectly at her puffy brown areolas for maximum scandal, she snapped a clear and tantalizing close-up. “Take that, you perverted iPhone!” She announced with as much defiance as her wobbly knees and trembling pussy could muster.

But oh, what was this? The iPhone screen suddenly flickered from Cinematic from 640×480 pixel disaster to vivid 1080H dumpster fire porn in high definition. “I’M YOUNG, HANDSOME, AND STUPIDLY SENSUAL!” She shouted, exultant, to no one in particular. But mere seconds later and she was manufacturing an apology. “I mean, uh, sorry, I just… uh… please don’t bust me with the Japanese Makeup Police…” Her bad performances and insufficient photographic skill made her a laughing stock. But hey, she was the first to admit her production values sucked.

But oh, how she hoped her husband would see her masterpiece and start sport-fucking nonstop! She may not be the greatest video editing magician, but her thick amethyst seduction laser blades were enough to get any guy hard! And not fifteen minutes later, Yumi heard the front door open and close as her husband returned. “Already? Must have been an early meeting.” She called out, trying to play it cool. “Hope you brought something sweet for your sweet honey.”

But wait, she heard another door open and close. Curious, she crept up to the guest room. Slight crack, finger to the wall. Her jaw dropped. There was Toshi, with another woman, on the bed, clothes on the floor, moaning obscenely as their sweaty naked midsections humped and grinded. Distressed and aroused, Yumi stumbled back, her mind exploding as her pussy throbbed. Numbly, she turned on shaky legs and padded back to the bed, her thong soaked and clinging to every curve and fold.

Emotionally debilitated, Yumi Hataki sat in stunned silence. The squishing and wet smacking noises from the guest room adventures kept playing out in her head. Shapes started appearing, and before she knew it, she was yanking the iPhone out of her nightstand and scanning through the gallery of curated GloryHole booth videos. The intensity, the dedication – it took her breath away! Her faced flushed with arousal at the french vanilla sensuality oozing from this stalker, stalking his victim. Heavy breathing, satisfied grunts, and below-the-belt pounding were heard, not seen. The visuals told their own story. This was more than hot. This was hot, raw, real personal peek show.

Insatiably curious, Yumi queued up the video labeled “sex drive”. Big mistake. An uncoil of vulgar guttural sounds echoed through her ears as restricting handheld camera movements followed the hunter, chasing his next prey as he went on the prowl, leaving none untouched. Yumi inched forward, eyes glued to the screen, as the recording closed in on the next target, perched on the edge of the bed. Another peek and her jaw dropped. It was… it was her husband! Fucking his best friend! Passionately! Naughtily! Porn-style! Work-style! All holes filled, positions railed. Yumi recoiled, processor fried. Unreality setting in, sped up and magnified. This was beyond anything she ever imagined. But god help her, it was scorching hot.

Impulsively, her trembling hands scooped up her phone and a moment later she had a call connected and was screaming into her smartphone at the top of her lungs. “NIAAAAAAAAAAAA-?!