Concept: Demure Wives
I always tried to be the perfect wife. I dressed nicely for my husband, let him fuck me anytime he wanted and made sure there was always a home-cooked meal on the table. Most importantly, I saved my body just for him like a demure wife would. Things changed when we decided to rent our spare room to a college student. The way he stared at my tits drove me crazy. I knew he wanted to devour me, and the thought made me wet every day. I tried to ignore my feelings and touch myself, but it wasn't enough. I needed his fingers, his tongue, his dick. Soon, I found myself doing things I never thought I would, like smelling his shirts and rubbing them against my boobs and pussy, imagining he was touching me. I even masturbated on the other side of the door while he was showering. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do something, or I'd go crazy. I wore a dress I knew he wouldn't resist taking off and dragged him to the bed. Then, I asked him to be quiet as I took off his pants and prepared to ride his big, hard cock. Moaning might not be allowed, but cumming is. Good thing he shoved my panties in my mouth to keep me from making any noise because I lost myself in how good his dick felt inside me.
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