Articles by Mary Ellen

The Vineyard’s Embrace

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The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the sprawling Carrington Estates Vineyard. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of ripe grapes and blooming flowers. Ryan and I strolled along the gravel path, our footsteps crunching softly as we made our way toward the historic manor. The vineyard was a labyrinth of meticulously tended rows, each vine heavy with fruit, promising a bountiful harvest. The clock tower of the manor loomed in the distance, its chimes echoing faintly across the estate.

“This place is breathtaking,” I murmured, my hand brushing against Ryan’s as we walked. He smiled, his eyes glinting with a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something unspoken. We’d been together for a few months now, and every moment with him felt like a discovery, a revelation. But today, there was an added layer of anticipation, a sense that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

The winery’s owner, a charming man named Elias, greeted us at the entrance of the manor. His silver hair and warm smile made him seem like a character from a bygone era. “Welcome, welcome,” he said, his voice rich with a European accent. “I’ve prepared a private tasting for you both. Follow me.”

We trailed him through the grand foyer, the air thick with the scent of aged wood and polished stone. The wine cellar was a marvel—a labyrinthine space carved into the limestone bedrock, its walls lined with bottles that seemed to stretch into eternity. Elias led us to a small, intimate room lit by flickering candlelight. A long table was set with crystal glasses, each one gleaming under the soft glow.

“Tonight, we’ll explore the finest wines Carrington Estates has to offer,” Elias announced, his hands moving gracefully as he poured the first glass. “This is our 1998 Cabernet Sauvignon, aged to perfection.”

Ryan and I sat across from each other, our knees brushing lightly under the table. The wine was divine—bold and velvety, with notes of blackberry and oak. As we sipped, Elias regaled us with stories of the vineyard’s history, of Winston Carrington and his elusive treasure, of the ghostly whispers among the vines. The atmosphere was intoxicating, not just from the wine, but from the way Ryan’s gaze lingered on me, his lips curving into a knowing smile.

By the third glass, a 2010 Pinot Noir, my senses were heightened. The room felt warmer, the air thicker. Ryan’s hand found mine under the table, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin. I shivered, my breath catching as I met his eyes. There was a hunger there, raw and unfiltered, and it mirrored my own.

Elias excused himself to fetch the final wine, leaving us alone in the dimly lit room. The moment he was gone, Ryan leaned across the table, his lips brushing against mine. “I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

I didn’t respond with words. Instead, I stood, pulling him toward me. His hands slid to my waist, his touch firm and purposeful. The wine glasses clinked softly as we knocked them aside, the rich reds spilling onto the table like blood. I pressed against him, feeling the hardness of his body through his clothes.

“Let’s get out of here,” I breathed, my lips grazing his ear. “Now.”

Ryan didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my hand, and we rushed out of the cellar, leaving Elias’s carefully curated tasting behind. The night air was cool against my skin as we darted through the vineyard, the rows of grapes a blur as we ran. The stars were beginning to emerge, their light casting a silvery glow over the estate.

We stopped near the hidden grotto, a secluded spot with a natural spring bubbling softly in the center. The water glistened in the moonlight, its sound a soothing backdrop to the urgency building between us. Ryan turned me to face him, his hands cupping my cheeks as he kissed me deeply. His lips were firm, his tongue demanding, and I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair.

“Mary Ellen,” he groaned, pulling back slightly. “I need you. Now.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, tearing them open in my haste. His chest was warm and solid under my touch, his muscles tensing as I traced the lines of his body. He kicked off his shoes, then his pants, leaving him bare in the cool night air. His cock stood proud and thick, pulsing with need, and I couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke it, feeling it twitch in my hand.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he growled, his hands moving to my dress. He pulled it over my head, letting it fall to the ground. I stood before him in nothing but my lace bra and panties, the moonlight casting shadows over my pale skin. His gaze devoured me, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

He pushed me back until I felt the cool stone of the grotto against my legs. The water lapped at my ankles as he sank to his knees, his hands sliding up my thighs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and pulled them down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

I shivered as his lips pressed against my inner thigh, his breath hot against my sensitive skin. His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he kissed his way closer to my core. My head fell back, my hands clutching at the stones behind me as he teased me with his tongue, circling my clit before dipping inside me.

“Ryan,” I gasped, my body arching toward him. “Please.”

He chuckled darkly, the vibration sending shivers through me. “Impatient, aren’t we?” he teased, before plunging his tongue deep inside me. I cried out, my hips bucking against his mouth as he ate me with a hunger that left me breathless. His fingers joined, sliding into me alongside his tongue, stretching me open as he fucked me with his hand.

I was close, so close, my body trembling on the edge of release. “Ryan, I’m—”

He stood abruptly, cutting me off with a kiss. His lips tasted of me, and I moaned into his mouth, my hands grasping at his shoulders. He lifted me, pressing me against the stone wall, his cock throbbing against my entrance. “Ready for me?” he growled, his eyes dark with desire.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Fuck me, Ryan. Now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He thrust into me in one smooth motion, filling me completely. I gasped, my nails digging into his skin as he began to move, his hips snapping against mine. The stones bit into my back, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat between us. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the air, mingling with our moans and the soft bubbling of the spring.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his hands gripping my thighs as he pounded into me. “So fucking tight.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his back as I met his thrusts. The angle was perfect, his cock hitting a spot deep inside me that had me seeing stars. My breath came in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure built, my body coiling tighter and tighter.

“Ryan, I’m close,” I panted, my voice barely audible over our ragged breaths.

“Me too,” he growled, his pace quickening. “Come for me, Mary Ellen. Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words were my undoing. My body shattered, my orgasm ripping through me like a storm. I screamed his name, my walls clenching around him as I came, my juices spilling over his cock. He followed moments later, his thrusts stuttering as he buried himself deep inside me, his seed pulsing hot and thick.

We stayed like that for a moment, our hearts pounding, our breaths intertwining. Slowly, he pulled out, his hands steadying me as my legs trembled. He kissed me softly, his lips gentle against mine. “That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, my fingers tracing the lines of his face. “It was,” I agreed, my voice soft.

But as we stood there, the night air cooling our sweat-dampened skin, I felt a shift, a subtle change in the atmosphere. The vineyard seemed to close in around us, the whispers of the past mingling with the present. I glanced toward the rows of grapes, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze.

“Do you ever feel like we’re being watched?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ryan followed my gaze, his brow furrowing. “Maybe,” he said after a moment. “But if we are, I don’t mind. Not when it’s just us out here, under the stars.”

I nodded, a shiver running down my spine. The night was far from over, and the vineyard held secrets yet to be uncovered. But for now, with Ryan’s arms around me and the world feeling impossibly small, I was content to let the mystery linger.

The clock tower chimed in the distance, its sound echoing across the estate. Somewhere, Elias was likely wondering where we’d gone, the final wine waiting patiently in the cellar. But here, in this moment, time felt irrelevant.

Ryan kissed me again, his lips firm and sure. “Let’s not go back just yet,” he murmured against my mouth.

I smiled, my hand sliding down to grip his. “I couldn’t agree more.”

And with that, we let the night take us, the vineyard our playground, the stars our only witnesses. What came next was unwritten, a story waiting to unfold, one touch, one kiss, one moment at a time.

The First Glance

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The dimly lit jazz bar was my sanctuary, a place where the world slowed down to the rhythm of a saxophone’s wail. I sat at the corner table, my red hair cascading over the shoulders of my black silk blouse, a glass of pinot noir cradled in my hands. The soft glow of the candle on the table cast a warm hue over my pale skin, and I felt a rare sense of contentment. It had been a long week—work deadlines, ballet rehearsals, and a failed attempt at baking a soufflé that had left my kitchen smelling like burnt dreams. But tonight, I was here to unwind, to let the music wash over me and remind me that life was still beautiful.

That’s when I saw him. Ned. He was leaning against the bar, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his eyes scanning the room with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. I’d met him a few weeks ago at a symphony performance, and we’d been casually dating ever since. He was charming, intelligent, and had this way of making me feel like the most fascinating person in the room. But there was something else about him, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. A quirk, maybe. Or perhaps it was the way his gaze lingered just a little too long on certain parts of me.

He spotted me and made his way over, his stride confident yet unhurried. “Mary Ellen,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like the bassline of a jazz tune. “You look… stunning.”

I smiled, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, his eyes flicking to my feet. I was wearing a pair of strappy black heels, the kind that made my legs look endless and my feet delicate, like a dancer’s. I’d always been self-conscious about my feet—they were narrow and long, with high arches and toes that tapered to points. But Ned seemed to appreciate them in a way that made me feel almost… admired.

“Those shoes,” he said, his gaze still fixed on my feet. “They’re… perfect.”

I laughed, a little nervously. “Thanks. They’re comfortable, too, believe it or not.”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave my feet. It was then that I noticed it—the way he was staring at them, not in a creepy way, but with an intensity that made my stomach flutter. It was like he was seeing something I couldn’t.

“Ned,” I said, teasingly. “You’re making me self-conscious. Are you… into feet?”

He looked up, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Caught me,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “I mean, I’ve never been one to hide it. Feet are… fascinating. Especially yours.”

I raised an eyebrow, both intrigued and amused. “Fascinating, huh? Well, that’s a new one. Most guys don’t notice feet.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Most guys are missing out. Feet are… art. They tell a story. Yours, for example—they’re graceful, like a dancer’s. And those shoes… they frame them perfectly.”

I felt a warmth spread through me, a mix of embarrassment and something else—something I couldn’t quite name. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, I suppose.”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made me smile. “You should. Because it’s the truth.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, as it always did with Ned. We talked about music, books, and the absurdity of modern dating. But every now and then, I’d catch him stealing glances at my feet, and each time, my heart would skip a beat. It was strange, the way it made me feel—not uncomfortable, exactly, but aware. Hyperaware.

As the night wore on, the band took a break, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Ned leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting mine. “So,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “I have to ask. Have you ever… given a man a foot job?”

My wine glass paused halfway to my lips. “A foot job?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression serious but not lecherous. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a weird question, but… I’ve always been curious. And with your feet… I just… I think it would be incredible.”

I felt my cheeks heat up, but I wasn’t offended. There was something disarmingly honest about Ned, something that made me want to explore this side of him. “I’ve never done it before,” I admitted, setting my glass down. “But… I’m willing to try.”

His eyes lit up, and he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

I smiled, feeling a thrill of excitement. “Why not? Life’s too short to not try new things, right?”

He grinned, reaching across the table to take my hand. “You’re amazing, Mary Ellen. Truly.”

The band started playing again, a slow, sultry number that seemed to match the mood perfectly. Ned stood up, offering me his hand. “Dance with me?”

I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. As we moved closer together, I felt his eyes drift down to my feet again, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing against my ear. “But I’m also grateful. For this. For you.”

We danced for what felt like hours, our bodies moving in sync, the music wrapping around us like a warm embrace. But the entire time, I was acutely aware of Ned’s gaze on my feet, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

When the song ended, he led me back to the table, his hand still in mine. “I have an idea,” he said, his voice husky. “Let’s get out of here. I want to show you something.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what’s that?”

He smiled, a slow, wicked smile that made my heart race. “Just trust me.”

I did.

Ned’s apartment was a reflection of him—sleek, modern, and filled with an eclectic mix of art and books. He led me to the couch, gesturing for me to sit down. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

I sat, crossing my legs and smoothing my skirt over my thighs. “So, what’s this all about?”

He knelt in front of me, his hands resting on my knees. “I want to worship your feet,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “If you’ll let me.”

My breath caught in my throat. Worship? The word sent a jolt of desire through me, something primal and unspoken. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He nodded, his hands sliding down to my ankles. Slowly, reverently, he began to unstrap my heels, his fingers brushing against my skin in a way that made me shiver. When the shoes were off, he placed them gently on the floor, his gaze never leaving my feet.

“They’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.

I felt a rush of heat, my cheeks flushing as he took one of my feet in his hands, cradling it like a precious treasure. His thumbs brushed over the arch, his touch firm yet gentle, and I let out a soft sigh.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“Yes,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering closed.

He smiled, his lips brushing against the top of my foot. “Good.”

His mouth moved down, his tongue tracing the delicate bones of my ankle, his lips pressing soft kisses along the length of my foot. I felt a tingle spread through me, a sensation I’d never experienced before. It was intimate, yes, but it was also… exhilarating.

“Ned,” I breathed, my hands clutching the edges of the couch.

“Shh,” he murmured, his mouth moving to my other foot. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

His tongue was warm and wet, sliding between my toes, sucking gently on each one. I felt a moan escape my lips, my body arching slightly as pleasure coiled low in my belly. His hands were firm, massaging my arches, his thumbs pressing into the tender spots that made me gasp.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.

“Yes,” I admitted, my voice shaky. “I do.”

He smiled, his lips brushing against the sole of my foot. “Good. Because I’ve been dreaming about this.”

His mouth moved back up, his tongue tracing the curve of my ankle, his lips pressing kisses along the sensitive skin. I felt my breath quicken, my body tensing as the pleasure built. It was strange, how something so simple could feel so… intoxicating.

“Ned,” I whispered, my hands tangling in his hair. “I—”

“Shh,” he said again, his voice firm but gentle. “Let me show you.”

He stood up, his eyes locking with mine. “Stand up for me, Mary Ellen.”

I did, my legs slightly shaky as I rose to my feet. Ned stepped back, his gaze raking over me, his expression hungry. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to trace the line of my jaw with his thumb.

I felt a rush of desire, my body aching for him. “Ned,” I breathed, my hands resting on his chest.

He smiled, his hands moving to my waist. “Trust me,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I nodded, my heart pounding as he guided me to the center of the room. “Lift your foot,” he instructed, his voice steady.

I did, resting it on the edge of the coffee table, my leg slightly bent. Ned stepped closer, his hands sliding down to my calves, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin behind my knees.

“Now the other one,” he said, his voice a whisper.

I lifted my other foot, placing it on the table beside the first. I was now standing with my legs spread, my feet bare and vulnerable, and Ned was kneeling in front of me, his eyes devouring me.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his hands moving to my ankles. “Now, wrap your feet around me.”

My breath caught as I realized what he meant. I shifted my weight, my feet sliding off the table as I brought them together, my legs still spread. Ned reached down, unbuckling his belt, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

I shook my head, my heart racing as he unzipped his pants, his cock springing free. It was thick and hard, the head glistening with pre-cum, and I felt a rush of desire at the sight of it.

“Wrap your feet around me,” he repeated, his voice urgent.

I did, my toes curling around his shaft, my heels pressing against his thighs. Ned groaned, his hands gripping my hips as he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against my ear.

“Fuck, Mary Ellen,” he whispered. “You feel incredible.”

I moaned, my head falling back as he began to move, his hips thrusting gently at first, then harder, his cock sliding between my feet, my toes tightening around him. It was strange, the sensation—the warmth of his skin, the hardness of his shaft, the way his muscles flexed with each thrust.

“Ned,” I breathed, my hands clutching his shoulders.

“Yes,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “Say my name again.”

“Ned,” I moaned, my body arching as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward, his cock sliding between my feet with a wet, slick sound.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping my ass, pulling me closer. “So fucking tight.”

I felt myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling as pleasure built and built. Ned’s breath was hot against my neck, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate.

“I’m close,” he panted, his voice strained. “Tell me to cum.”

“Cum,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Cum on my feet, Ned.”

He groaned, his body tensing as he thrust one last time, his cock pulsing between my feet, his cum spilling over my skin, hot and thick. I moaned, my head falling back as he came, his hands gripping my hips, his body shuddering with release.

When he finally pulled away, my feet were slick with his cum, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Ned collapsed onto the couch, his chest heaving, his eyes never leaving me.

“Fuck,” he whispered, a smile spreading across his face. “That was… incredible.”

I laughed, a little breathless, as I stepped out of his reach, my feet leaving wet prints on the floor. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He grinned, reaching out to pull me onto the couch beside him. “It was more than a compliment, Mary Ellen. It was… perfect.”

I leaned into him, my head resting on his shoulder, the warmth of his body wrapping around me like a blanket. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I murmured, my fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

He kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. “I did. And I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”

I smiled, a sense of contentment washing over me. “I think you might be right.”

As the jazz music from the bar downstairs drifted up through the open window, I felt a rare sense of peace. Ned’s foot fetish had opened a door to a new kind of intimacy, one that was raw, unapologetic, and utterly exhilarating. And as I lay in his arms, the scent of sex and satisfaction lingering in the air, I knew one thing for certain: this was just the first chapter of our story.

Reflections of Desire

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I’ve always had a thing for mirrors. Not just any mirrors—the kind that let me see every curve, every line, every detail of my body as I move. There’s something intoxicating about watching myself, about knowing I’m the one in control, the one creating every moan, every shiver, every gasp. It’s like I’m both the performer and the audience, and the show is always for me. But sometimes, just sometimes, I let someone else watch. Like Jed. Jed was different. He didn’t just want to fuck me; he wanted to see me, to understand what made me tick. And when I told him about my mirror habit, his eyes lit up like I’d just handed him the key to a treasure chest.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind where the sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of my bedroom, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. I’d just finished a batch of chocolate chip cookies—my specialty—and the scent of butter and sugar still lingered in the air. Jed was lounging on my bed, flipping through a book of poetry I’d left on the nightstand. He looked up when I walked in, his brow furrowed in concentration, but his gaze softened when he saw me.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the handheld magnifying mirror I was holding. It was an old thing, the kind you’d find in a vintage shop, with a brass handle and a circular glass that magnified everything to three times its size.

I smirked, setting it down on the dresser. “You’ll see.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Jed was good like that—patient, curious, but never pushy. I crossed the room to the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. The mirror was old, its edges framed in carved wood, and it reflected the room back at me in perfect detail. I could see Jed watching me from the bed, his book forgotten in his lap.

“You sure you want to do this?” I asked, turning to face him. My heart was pounding, not from nervousness, but from anticipation. There was something thrilling about knowing he was about to see me like this, raw and unfiltered.

He sat up, leaning against the headboard. “I’m sure,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I want to see you, Mary Ellen. All of you.”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then I turned back to the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. My red hair fell in loose waves down my back, and my pale skin seemed to glow in the soft light. I was wearing one of his button-down shirts, the tails hanging just past my thighs, and nothing else. I could feel his eyes on me, heavy and warm, as I reached behind me to unbutton the shirt.

One by one, the buttons came undone, the fabric falling open to reveal my bare breasts. I watched in the mirror as Jed’s gaze flicked down, his throat working as he swallowed. I smiled, a slow, knowing curve of my lips, and let the shirt slide off my shoulders, pooling at my feet.

“Fuck,” he murmured, and I felt a rush of heat at the sound of it.

I stepped closer to the mirror, my nipples tightening as the cool air touched them. I reached for the magnifying mirror, holding it up to get a closer look. The glass magnified everything—the delicate veins beneath my skin, the faint freckles scattered across my chest, the way my nipples pebbled into tight buds. I traced a finger over one, watching the movement in the mirror, and let out a soft sigh.

“You like that, don’t you?” Jed’s voice was rough, and I glanced over my shoulder to see him biting his lip, his eyes glued to my reflection.

“Mmm,” I hummed, not bothering to deny it. “You’re watching, aren’t you?”

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed again. “Every fucking detail.”

I smirked, turning back to the mirror. I lowered the magnifying glass, letting it hover just above my stomach, and slowly trailed it downward. My breath quickened as I watched my hand move, the magnified view giving me a close-up of my skin, the faint dusting of red hair at my core. I parted my legs slightly, just enough to give us both a better view, and felt a rush of wetness between my thighs.

“Jesus, Mary Ellen,” Jed groaned, and I glanced back to see him shifting on the bed, his hand resting on the bulge in his jeans.

I bit my lip, my heart racing. “You like what you see?”

“Fuck yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But I want to see more.”

I smiled, a wicked little twist of my lips, and lowered the magnifying mirror further. The glass caught the light, casting a distorted reflection of my pussy back at me. I was already glistening, my lips swollen and parted, and I could see the faint flutter of my clit as my breath quickened. I pressed the edge of the mirror against my inner thigh, watching the way the cool glass made my skin goose bump, and then trailed it upward, closer to the heat.

“Oh God,” Jed whispered, and I glanced back to see him unbuttoning his jeans, his cock already straining against the fabric.

I smirked, turning back to the mirror. “You want to touch yourself, Jed?”

He hesitated, then nodded, his cheeks flushing. “If you do.”

“I do,” I said, my voice steady. “But I want to watch you. I want to see you watching me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hand slipped into his jeans, wrapping around his cock, and he began to stroke slowly, his eyes never leaving my reflection. I watched him watch me, the sight of his hand moving over his thick length sending a jolt of heat through me. I was dripping now, my clit throbbing, and I pressed the magnifying mirror closer, letting it hover just above my pussy.

I reached down with my free hand, parting my lips to expose my clit. The magnified view was obscene—my flesh swollen and pink, the hood pulled back to reveal the sensitive bud beneath. I circled it with my fingertip, watching the movement in the mirror, and let out a soft moan.

“Fuck, Mary Ellen,” Jed groaned, his strokes speeding up. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

I smiled, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment as I pressed a little harder, my breath hitching. “Keep watching,” I murmured. “I want you to see everything.”

I lowered the magnifying mirror further, pressing it against my clit, the cool glass sending shivers through me. I could see every detail—the way my lips stretched around the edge, the glistening wetness coating the glass, the faint pulse of my clit as I rubbed against it. I added a second finger, slipping it inside my dripping cunt, and moaned at the sensation.

“Oh fuck,” I breathed, my head falling back as I watched myself in the mirror. “Jed, I’m so close.”

“Me too,” he rasped, his hand moving faster now, his cock thick and flushed. “Come for me, Mary Ellen. Let me see you come.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I pressed harder against the magnifying mirror, my fingers moving faster inside me, and let out a sharp cry as my orgasm hit. My body shook, my muscles clenching around my fingers, and I watched it all in the mirror—my face flushed, my lips parted, my eyes squeezed shut as I rode the waves of pleasure. My juices coated the magnifying mirror, dripping down the glass, and I moaned at the sight, at the knowledge that Jed was watching it all.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his hand moving frantically now, his cock glistening with pre-come. “Mary Ellen, you’re—”

His words were cut off by a sharp cry as he came, his body arching off the bed, his cum spurting over his hand and chest. I watched him in the mirror, my own breath still ragged, as he shuddered through his release, his face contorted in pleasure.

When he finally collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving, I turned to face him, a satisfied smile on my lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

He grinned, wiping his hand on the bedsheet. “Best fucking show I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed, a soft, breathless sound, and walked over to the bed, my legs still a little shaky. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips, and tasted myself on his mouth—salty and sweet.

“Next time,” I murmured, pulling back slightly, “I’ll let you touch the mirror.”

His eyes darkened, and he reached up, tangling his hand in my hair. “Next time,” he agreed, his voice low and promising, “I’m going to fuck you while you watch yourself in it.”

I shivered at the thought, my core already aching for it. “Deal.”

And as I climbed onto the bed beside him, the mirror still reflecting the aftermath of our pleasure, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time. Not by a long shot.

The Accidental Delivery

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I stood in my doorway, the box clutched in my hands, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity wash over me. It wasn’t my package—I’d realized that the moment I’d torn into the brown paper wrapping, only to find a collection of Tenga eggs nestled inside. My face flushed as I read the label: Brett Thompson. My neighbor. The box was clearly meant for him, not me. I should’ve checked the name first, but the delivery guy had been in such a hurry, and I’d assumed it was mine. Now, here I was, holding a box of sex toys for men, feeling like a complete idiot.

The Tenga eggs were unmistakable—their sleek, egg-shaped packaging was designed to be discreet, but there was no mistaking what they were for. I’d seen them online once, while scrolling through a late-night ad. They were supposed to be revolutionary, a new way for men to experience pleasure. I’d never given them much thought beyond that, but now, holding them in my hands, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of fascination and mortification.

Deciding the best course of action was to return the box, I stepped out of my apartment and made my way down the hallway to Brett’s door. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached. Brett and I had exchanged pleasantries in the hallway a few times, but we weren’t exactly close. He was a few years younger than me, with dark hair and a laid-back demeanor that always made me feel a bit flustered. I wasn’t sure how to explain this mix-up without sounding like a nosy neighbor or, worse, a pervert.

I set the box down on his doorstep, turning to leave before I could overthink it. But just as I took a step back, the door swung open, and there he was. Brett stood in the doorway, wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and jeans, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh!” I blurted, my voice higher than I intended. “I—I mean, this box was delivered to me by mistake. I just opened it and realized it’s yours. I’m so sorry.”

Brett’s confusion melted into a warm smile. “No worries,” he said, his voice deep and easygoing. “Mistakes happen. Thanks for bringing it over.”

I nodded, my cheeks still burning. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll just—”

“Wait,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the open door. “Come on in for a second. I owe you one for this.”

My stomach flipped. I hadn’t planned on staying, but something in his tone—a mix of gratitude and something else I couldn’t quite place—made me hesitate. “Uh, sure,” I said, stepping inside. “Just for a minute.”

His apartment was surprisingly tidy, with bookshelves lining the walls and a guitar leaning against the couch. It smelled faintly of coffee and something woody, like sandalwood. Brett closed the door behind me and took the box from my hands, setting it on the coffee table.

“Tenga eggs, huh?” he said, glancing at the box. “I’ve heard they’re supposed to be pretty interesting. Thought I’d give them a try.”

I felt my face heat up again. “Oh, uh, right. Well, I didn’t mean to pry or anything. I just—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he interrupted, flashing that easy smile again. “Actually, since you’ve seen them already, maybe you’d like to… watch?”

My breath caught in my throat. Watch? As in, watch him use one? My mind raced, my curiosity warring with my sense of propriety. This was Brett, my neighbor. A guy I barely knew. But there was something in his tone—a casual confidence that made the idea seem almost… natural.

“I—I mean, if you want,” I stammered, my heart pounding. “I’m just… curious, I guess.”

Brett’s smile widened, and he nodded, as if he’d expected this response. “Cool. Make yourself comfortable.”

I sat down on the edge of the couch, my hands twisting in my lap. Brett moved to the armchair across from me, opening the box and pulling out one of the Tenga eggs. It was smaller than I’d imagined, its smooth, egg-shaped exterior fitting perfectly in his hand. He tore open the packaging with a confident motion, revealing the soft, textured sleeve inside.

“So, how does this work?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Well,” he said, his eyes meeting mine, “you just slide it over your cock, and it does the rest.”

My cheeks flushed even deeper, but I couldn’t look away. Brett’s gaze was steady, unapologetic, as if he was simply explaining the weather. He shifted in his seat, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down just enough to reveal his boxers. My eyes darted to his lap, my heart racing.

“You sure you want to watch?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, unable to speak. This was insane. I was sitting in my neighbor’s apartment, about to watch him masturbate. But there was something about the way he carried himself—so unashamed, so confident—that made it feel almost… normal.

Brett slipped his hand into his boxers, his fingers brushing against his erection. My breath hitched as he pulled it out, his cock thick and already hardening. It was larger than I’d expected, the head flushed and veins prominent along its length. He gave me a slight smile, as if sensing my reaction, before turning his attention back to the Tenga egg.

He held the sleeve up, examining it for a moment, before slowly sliding it over his cock. The material stretched to accommodate him, the textured interior gripping him tightly. Brett let out a soft groan, his head falling back slightly as he began to move his hand up and down.

“Feels… good,” he murmured, his eyes closing for a moment before flicking back to me. “You like watching?”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. “Y-yes,” I managed, my voice barely audible.

His smile grew, and he leaned back in the chair, his hand moving steadily. The Tenga egg glided over his cock, the friction creating a soft, wet sound that filled the room. I felt my pulse quicken, my thighs pressing together as I watched. This was intimate, raw, and yet there was something exhilarating about it. Brett wasn’t putting on a show—he was simply… being. And I was here, a witness to his pleasure.

“You ever use toys?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

I shook my head, my eyes glued to his hand. “N-no. Never.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, his hips beginning to rock slightly in time with his strokes. “Maybe you should. They can be… fun.”

I felt a jolt of heat between my legs at the thought. Fun. Yes, this was definitely fun. My nipples tightened under my shirt, and I shifted uncomfortably, aware of the dampness gathering in my panties.

Brett’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in short gasps. “Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes half-lidded. “This thing’s amazing.”

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. His cock was glistening with pre-cum, the Tenga egg sliding effortlessly over him. The sight was intoxicating, my body responding despite my best efforts to remain detached. I was wet, embarrassingly so, and my clit throbbed with a need I hadn’t felt in years.

“You like this, don’t you?” Brett asked, his voice low and teasing. “Watching me like this?”

I bit my lip, nodding mutely. My face was on fire, but I couldn’t deny it. This was turning me on in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Brett’s hand sped up, his strokes becoming more frantic. “Fuck, I’m close,” he groaned, his muscles tensing. “You want to see me come?”

My breath caught at the question. Did I? Yes. God, yes. I nodded again, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Good,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Watch me, Mary Ellen. Watch me come for you.”

Those words—for you—sent a jolt of electricity through me. This wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about me, too. I leaned forward slightly, my eyes fixed on his cock as he stroked faster, the Tenga egg tightening around him with each movement.

“Fuck, yes,” he gasped, his body arching off the chair. “I’m—I’m coming.”

His cock twitched in the sleeve, and with a deep groan, he came. Thick streams of cum shot out, filling the Tenga egg and spilling over his hand. I watched, mesmerized, as he milked himself dry, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

When he finally stilled, he opened his eyes, meeting my gaze with a satisfied smile. “That was… impressive,” I managed, my voice shaky.

Brett laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made my stomach flutter. “Glad you enjoyed the show.”

I felt my face heat up again, but I couldn’t help but smile back. “I did,” I admitted, my voice soft. “Thank you.”

He nodded, pulling the Tenga egg off his cock and setting it aside. “Anytime,” he said, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re welcome to watch again… if you want.”

My heart skipped a beat at the invitation. Did I want to? Yes. Absolutely. But this was enough for now. More than enough.

“I should go,” I said, standing up and smoothing my shirt. “But… thanks. For, uh, letting me watch.”

Brett stood as well, his jeans still unbuttoned. “No problem,” he said, walking me to the door. “Anytime you want to see more, just let me know.”

I felt a rush of heat at his words, my mind already imagining the possibilities. “I will,” I said, stepping into the hallway.

He smiled, closing the door behind me. As I walked back to my apartment, my body still buzzing with arousal, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Brett had opened a door—both literally and metaphorically—and I wasn’t sure I could close it again.

Back in my apartment, I locked the door and leaned against it, my heart still racing. My panties were soaked, my clit aching with unfulfilled desire. I knew what I needed to do.

I walked to my bedroom, my fingers trembling as I unbuttoned my jeans. The image of Brett’s cock sliding in and out of the Tenga egg was burned into my mind, and I couldn’t resist the urge any longer. I slipped my hand into my panties, my fingers finding my wetness with ease.

Closing my eyes, I imagined Brett watching me, his gaze intense and approving. I began to touch myself, my fingers circling my clit as I replayed the scene in my mind. His groans, his movements, the way his body had tensed as he came—it all fueled my arousal.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my hips bucking into my hand. “Brett…”

My orgasm built slowly, a coil of tension tightening in my core. I imagined him there with me, his hand guiding mine, his voice urging me on. “Come for me, Mary Ellen,” I imagined him saying. “Let me see you come.”

With that thought, I fell over the edge. My body shook as my orgasm ripped through me, my juices coating my fingers. I cried out his name, my voice muffled by the pillow I’d bitten down on.

When I finally stilled, I lay there, breathless and sated. Brett’s invitation lingered in my mind, a promise of more to come. I knew this wasn’t the end—it was only the beginning. And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

Titty Fuck Temptation

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I had always been a bit self-conscious about my breasts. At 39, I wasn’t exactly a spring chicken anymore, and my once perky assets had started to show the effects of gravity. But my boyfriend, Jake, had a way of making me feel like the sexiest woman alive, and he had a particular appreciation for my chest.

“Hey, Mary Ellen,” Jake called out as I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body. I could hear the excitement in his voice, a tone that usually meant he had something naughty on his mind. “Yeah, babe?” I replied, smiling as I pictured him lounging on our bed, his muscular body glistening with anticipation. Jake was a fitness enthusiast, and his dedication to the gym had paid off, making him a sight to behold.

“I was just thinking…” He trailed off, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know how I love your tits, right?”

I laughed, feeling a familiar warmth between my legs. “Yeah, I think I’ve noticed your appreciation, Mr. Handsy.” Jake had a habit of cupping and caressing my breasts whenever we were alone, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

“Well, I was wondering…” He paused, biting his lower lip, a sure sign he was about to propose something deliciously dirty. “Would you be up for giving me a titty fuck?”

My heart skipped a beat. I had never done anything like that before, but the thought of pleasing Jake and feeling his hard cock between my breasts was enough to make me blush. “A titty fuck? You mean, like… using my tits to pleasure you?”

“Exactly!” Jake’s face lit up, his excitement palpable. “I’ve always wanted to feel your soft, warm tits wrapped around my dick. I bet it’ll be fucking amazing.”

I couldn’t deny the appeal of his request. Jake’s enthusiasm was infectious, and the idea of using my body to bring him pleasure was incredibly arousing. I took a deep breath, my towel falling slightly, revealing a hint of my pale skin. “Okay, Jake. I’ll do it. But only if you promise to be gentle with my girls.”

“Oh, I’ll be gentle, baby,” he assured me, his voice thick with desire. “But first, let me get a good look at them.”

I smiled, feeling a surge of confidence. I let the towel drop to the floor, exposing my naked body to Jake’s hungry gaze. My breasts were full and round, with large, pink nipples that stood erect in anticipation. I cupped them in my hands, squeezing gently, my fingers brushing against my sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Mary Ellen,” Jake whispered, his eyes fixed on my chest. “Your tits are fucking perfect. I can’t wait to feel them squeezing my cock.”

I took a step closer to the bed, my heart racing. “Show me what you want me to do, Jake. Guide me.”

He patted the bed beside him, his hand reaching out to stroke my thigh. “Come here, beautiful. Straddle my face, let me taste your sweet pussy while you prepare those gorgeous tits for my cock.”

I did as he asked, climbing onto the bed and positioning myself above his face. Jake’s hands immediately went to my ass, squeezing and kneading my cheeks as his tongue sought out my clit. I moaned, the sensation of his rough hands and soft tongue driving me wild.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured between licks. “Ride my face, let me hear you moan.”

I ground my hips against his mouth, my wetness coating his lips and chin. His tongue flicked and teased, driving me closer to the edge. I reached down, grabbing a handful of his hair, and urged him on. “Yes, Jake, right there. Oh, fuck, that feels so good.”

As I neared my climax, Jake’s hands traveled up my body, his fingers brushing against my nipples, causing me to shudder. “Now, Mary Ellen,” he said, his voice hoarse with need. “Let’s give my cock the titty fuck it’s been dreaming of.”

I shifted my position, straddling his waist, my knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. Jake’s cock stood tall and proud, already glistening with pre-cum. I leaned forward, my breasts swaying, and took the head of his cock between my lips, sucking gently.

“Mmm, that’s it,” he groaned, his hands on my hips, guiding me. “Suck it, baby, get it nice and wet for your tits.”

I bobbed my head, taking him deep into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the thick shaft. Jake’s hands tightened on my hips, urging me to take more of him. I looked up at him, my blue eyes meeting his, as I deep-throated his length, my throat constricting around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he panted, his breath coming in short gasps. “Now, let’s get those tits in action.”

I pulled back, my lips glistening with saliva and pre-cum. I positioned myself above his cock, my breasts hanging over his shaft. I looked down, watching as the head of his cock disappeared between my cleavage.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Jake moaned, his eyes fixed on the sight of his cock sliding between my tits. “Squeeze them together, baby, make a tight little tunnel for my dick.”

I did as he asked, my hands cupping my breasts, squeezing them together, trapping his cock between them. I began to slide up and down, my tits providing a warm, slick passage for his throbbing member.

“That’s it, fuck those tits, Mary Ellen,” he urged, his hands gripping my hips, helping me set the pace. “Feel how hard your tits make me? How much I love your soft, warm flesh on my cock?”

I moaned, the sensation of his cock sliding between my breasts sending waves of pleasure through my body. I leaned forward, my nipples brushing against his chest, my hair falling around us like a curtain of red silk.

“You like that, baby?” Jake asked, his voice rough with desire. “You like feeling my cock between your tits?”

“Yes, Jake,” I whispered, my breath hot against his skin. “I love it. I love feeling your hard cock against my soft flesh.”

“That’s it, fuck those tits harder, baby,” he encouraged, his hands squeezing my ass, pulling me down onto his cock. “Squeeze them tight, make me cum all over your beautiful tits.”

I increased my pace, my tits sliding up and down his shaft, my nipples rubbing against his skin. Jake’s breathing became ragged, his body tensing beneath me.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips tightly. “Cum all over your tits, Mary Ellen. Paint your beautiful skin with my cum.”

His words sent me over the edge. I squeezed my tits together, trapping his cock, and felt his warm, sticky release coating my skin. His cum shot in thick ropes, painting my breasts and neck, creating a pearl necklace of his desire.

“Yes, Jake,” I moaned, my body trembling with pleasure. “Cum for me, baby. Give me your cum.”

As his climax subsided, I leaned down, my lips seeking his, and kissed him deeply, sharing the taste of his release. I could feel his cum, still warm, on my skin, and it only added to the intensity of the moment.

“That was fucking incredible,” Jake panted, his hands stroking my back. “Your tits are fucking amazing, Mary Ellen. I could do this all day.”

I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction and pride. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Jake. I have to admit, I loved feeling your cock between my tits.”

“And I loved watching you,” he said, his eyes roaming over my cum-covered body. “You’re so fucking sexy, Mary Ellen. I can’t wait to explore more of your naughty side.”

I blushed, feeling a new sense of freedom and excitement. Jake’s appreciation for my body and his willingness to explore our desires had unlocked something within me, a newfound confidence and a hunger for more.

“I can’t wait to see what else we can get up to,” I said, my voice laced with anticipation. “But for now, I think I need a shower to wash off all this delicious cum.”

Jake laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ll join you, baby. We can wash each other off and start planning our next adventure.”

As we made our way to the shower, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement for what the future held. Jake’s love for my body and his insatiable appetite for pleasure had opened up a whole new world of erotic possibilities, and I couldn’t wait to explore them all.