Short Story ✍️ No Condom. No Pulling Out.
Hotwife Graduation: The First Time Another Man Finished Inside Her
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Ted called it a “graduation.”
He said it over dinner. Like a toast, raising a cut-crystal glass filled with two fingers of bourbon. “You’ve earned it, my love,” he told her, smiling in that quiet, proud way he did when she surprised him.
Emily felt the heat between her thighs just thinking about it. She was more than a little bit ashamed of how badly she wanted this.
They had taken it slow. On purpose. At first it was as much for Emily’s benefit as it was her husband’s desire. Before Ted, she had never heard the term “hotwife”, much less considered a marriage in which she might fuck other men with her husband’s permission and encouragement.
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Yummy I love breeding you little ones
The Graduation Gift
By Holden Caine (as Jake)
She looked nervous. Not the kind of nervous that needed comfort — the kind that made her eyes shine. I could see it in the way she stood in the hallway, like she was waiting for permission she’d already been given. I didn’t rush. I opened the door like I knew exactly what she came for, then held it just a moment longer than necessary before stepping aside to let her in. My hand found her waist as she passed, fingertips dragging over her hip. She was already warm. Already wet. She didn’t say it, but her breath hitched when I touched her. Like her body was whispering what her mouth hadn’t formed yet.
“You look worked up,” I said.
She laughed, but it was breathless, shaky, almost shy. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“About what we’re going to do,” I finished for her, brushing my knuckles between her thighs.
She pressed against my hand. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
She wasn’t here to flirt. She was here because her husband said yes.
It wasn’t her first time with me. I knew how she moved when I kissed her. I knew what her thighs did when I ran my tongue along the underside of her breast. I knew how she sounded when she broke apart around my fingers. But this time was different. This time, she didn’t bring a condom. This time, she was here to be filled.
She reached for me like she’d been starving. My shirt came off. Her dress hit the floor. Her mouth was open, but not from words — from need. I watched her body the whole time. How she offered herself like she was hoping I’d say no, just so she could beg harder. I didn’t. I kissed her collarbone. Slid her panties down slowly. Bent her over the couch and dragged my fingers through the slick heat already dripping from her.
She was soaked.
I pulled my cock free and ran the head between her folds. Teasing. Slow. Just enough to make her feel every breath of what was about to happen.
“You sure you’re ready?” I asked.
She nodded. Then shook her head. Then whispered, “Please.”
It was the kind of please that didn’t come from politeness. It came from ache.
So I gave it to her.
No rubber. No hesitation. Just skin.
I sank into her slowly, gripping her hips while she whimpered into the cushion. Her pussy clenched around me like it had been waiting for this moment since the first time I touched her. Her thighs were trembling. Her back arched. I held still, buried deep, letting her feel it. Letting her know it was real.
She moaned something like oh my god into the fabric beneath her. I pulled back. Thrust again. She gasped. Then pushed back to meet me.
I started moving. Slow at first. Then harder. Deeper. Until the sound of us filled the room.
And she never once told me to stop.
Her moans got sharper. Less pretty. More real. The kind that slipped out like her body forgot to be quiet. I knew those sounds. I knew what they meant. She wasn’t just enjoying it — she was losing herself in it. Her nails dug into the arm of the couch. Her cheek pressed to the cushion. Her whole body tilted back into mine like she wanted to be filled even deeper than I already was.
I leaned forward, one hand slipping under her chest, cupping her breast, feeling her heartbeat pulse against my palm. She gasped when I pinched her nipple, but she didn’t move away. Her ass rolled against me like she was trying to pull more of me in. Like she didn’t just want to be fucked — she wanted to be kept.
“What do you want?” I asked, voice low in her ear as I thrust again, deep enough to make her knees slide apart.
She didn’t answer right away. Just made this helpless, wrecked sound like her breath had to rebuild before it could speak. So I asked again. “Tell me, Emily. What do you want?”
Her voice broke on the first word. “I want your cum.” She sounded wrecked. Honest. Raw. “Please, Jake. Fill me.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
She lifted her head, barely. Turned toward me, eyes glazed and mouth open. “I want you to cum deep inside my pussy. Please. Please. I want to feel it. I want to know what it feels like.”
That was it.
I gripped her hips tighter, pulling her back into every thrust. Her body went boneless, trembling, clutching around me in tight, desperate pulses. I didn’t need to last longer. I needed to give it to her. She had begged her husband for this. She had waited weeks. She had arrived already dripping. And now, with her ass pressed into my thighs and her pussy wrapped around me like it belonged there—I gave her what she came for.
I came deep. Hard. Holding her still while I emptied inside her.
Her moan was low. Guttural. Like her body was thanking me before her brain could catch up.
We didn’t move.
She stayed there, panting. I stayed inside her, watching the sweat bead along her spine. My cum thick inside her, pooling exactly where she had asked for it.
Eventually, I leaned over her and kissed her shoulder. “You think Ted’s going to be proud?”
She smiled without turning around. “I think he’ll want pictures.”
I pulled out slow. Reached for my phone. And she spread her legs wider, lifting her hips, letting it drip from her while she smiled into the camera.
She wasn’t embarrassed.
She was radiant.
Like a woman who had graduated with honors.