Taking Risks

Before bed, when my husband’s working away and the house feels too quiet, too empty, I like to play a very risky game. I leave every door unlocked, even the side gate leading to the back garden. The fear of what could happen excites me as I go into the bathroom and turn the shower on.

I’m a 32yr old brunette. 5’6” with long hair, hazel-green eyes, and curves in all the right places. I’m happily married with no children. I love my husband and life, but underneath, I have this burning desire for something that I can’t put my finger on. It’s just there, simmering away until it boils.

I slip off my silk robe and cup my heavy breasts, waiting for the water to run hot, and the mirror to start fogging. I slide a hand down my soft body, then lower to cup my mound, imagining all sorts of crazy things with the house unsecured. Anyone, and I mean literally anyone could walk in and find me naked, vulnerable and defenceless.

Once my reflection has disappeared, I climb into the bath tub and pull the shower curtain across, obscuring my view as the water drowns out any sounds in the house. Why does this excite me so much? I often ask, lathering up slowly, hands gliding over every inch like I’m putting on a show for whoever might walk in and see me.

I wash my large, natural breasts thoroughly, pushing them together, tugging on my taut, throbbing nipples. Then down my soft stomach, between my thick thighs, fingers slipping through my swollen folds as I clean myself. But really I’m just spreading the arousal around that’s been leaking from me since I unlocked all the doors.

Taking my time, because the fantasy makes my hands tremble, I slowly run a razor up my calves and thighs, while picturing rough hands pinning me up against the tiles. Armpits next. Then I prop one foot on the edge of the bath tub, spread my legs wide, and carefully shave my mound completely bare.

As the razor glides over my swollen lips and around my aching clit, I feel my arousal heightening and bite down on my lower lip. In my head the bathroom door opens. A tall, masked, bulking stranger steps in, his dark eyes fixed on me preparing my cunt for him.

By the time I’m fully smooth, I’m dripping more than the shower. I set the razor aside and let the fantasy take over completely. I grab the detachable shower head and switch it to the pulsing setting, aiming the hard jets straight at my clit, while two fingers of my other hand push deep inside me.

In and out, in and out, I imagine all sorts of dark scenarios while I watch my fingers disappear and then re-emerge, sticky and glistening with juice. I taste myself and groan, then shove them back inside, fucking myself like a married slut under the water.

First it’s one man who’s entered my home. He slips in and grabs me from behind, bending me over and slamming into my freshly shaved pussy while the water runs over us. He’s too strong and horny, so takes what he wants, cumming inside me.

Then its two men. One chokes me lightly with one hand while he mauls my swinging tits. The other is on his knees licking my clit before they both take turns using every hole. I picture them finding me helpless and naked, and deciding I’m theirs for the night.

They drag me out of the shower still wet, throw me onto my marital bed, tie my wrists with my own silk robe belt, and use me mercilessly until I’m a sobbing, squirting mess, their cum deep inside my pussy, swimming around inside my fertile womb. Filthy.

My fingers pump faster in the shower, curling against my g-spot. The shower head is pressed tight against my clit, the pulsing water driving me insane. I moan loudly, not caring if the sound carries through the unlocked house.

“Fuck me… use me…” I pant, voice echoing off the tiles.

I pinch one nipple hard, twisting it, imagining teeth biting down on it while a thick cock stretches my pussy and another is forced down my throat.

An orgasm hits me so hard my knees buckle. I cry out, thighs shaking, pussy clenching around my fingers. I keep the shower head on my clit through the whole damn thing, drawing out every spasm until I’m utterly satisfied.

I turn off the shower, dry myself urgently, still trembling, my smooth mound and swollen pussy tingling. Then, and only then, do I rush nervously downstairs and frantically lock every door, heart racing, genuine fear coursing through my veins.

“That’s the last time you’re doing this,” I scold myself for being so stupid as I crawl into bed naked, sheets cool against my heated, prickly skin. But I know it wont be the last time.

I wonder if I will ever stop… or what it might take for me to finally stop…