Night call. The erotic novel of infidelity. Юрий Буреве

the evening, which had begun so beautifully in the cafe, had turned into a lull. He thought about tomorrow, and all the sexual tension that had built up in him during the evening, watching his naked wife, immediately disappeared. Tomorrow was a big decision for him, because if he failed, he would be among those who would not advance further up the career ladder, but if he handed in the work that his entire department had been working on for six months without any comments, then this promised great opportunities.

      The work on developing software for designers was developed, all that was left was to present it to the management competently, that is, to hold a presentation. Usually, all investors gather at such events, many of whom do not understand programming at all, but they understand the laws of business, that if you do not present your product beautifully, consider that you have done nothing. People love beautiful packaging, they need to be hooked, and for this you need ideas, theses, commercial slogans, what they ultimately buy this or that product for.

      He took a shower, prepared himself for sex, but he kept breaking down, and this made him even more nervous.

      He turned off the light and went into the bedroom, which was next to the kitchen. Opening the blanket, he lay down, touching the hips of his wife, who had apparently fallen asleep and now said in a daze:

      – Come to me, hug me.

      He hugged her, and in an instant, her elastic, silky skin, which was a pleasure to touch, felt such strong emotions, similar to a sudden migraine, that sleep passed that very minute.

      She took his cock in a half-sleep and started milking it, hoping to get some liquid. She might not have been asleep, but she didn't lift her head, and it looked like she was masturbating his cock in her sleep, which had come to its senses.

      – Love me,– she whispered.

      He hugged her, leaned on top of her, but held on with his hands so as not to crush her with his weight, since he was quite heavy, but he was not fat, rather a dense man with a sporting past.

      He took a dose of lubricant from the tube that was always on the nightstand next to the bed and smeared it on his head and labia, without inserting his fingers inside the vagina, thinking that the shaft would still smear along the wall.

      He parted her slit, which was wet like a rose flower from dew, and very slowly began to insert it inside, he entered her like a piston moves along a cylinder, evenly and with a push, which ended when he reached the uterus, causing a little pain to Diana.

      – Sorry.

      – Everything is fine.

      – Continue.

      He kneaded her buttocks with one hand, touching her nipples with the other, carefully twisting them, pressing them and then massaging her breasts.

      He turned her sideways and continued fucking her, now touching her buttocks with his groin, which sounded like thin applause after a play at the theater.

      But the rhythm became faster, stronger and more intermittent, and in a moment he filled her vagina with sperm, which continued to flow out even after he lay on his back and Diana, spreading her legs, turned over on her back again.

      She seemed not to wake up at all, but simply spread her legs, received a dose of sperm in her crotch and turned back over, but she did not open her eyes, that was for sure, although what she was thinking about at that moment, whether about the guys in the gym again or about Yana, remains unknown, but after each intercourse she often said:

      – I love you.

      This time there was silence, but whether she was dozing again or not, she moved the ring and middle fingers of her right hand and, having launched it into her vagina, also without opening her eyes, brought it to her nose, sniffing and licking the remains of the sperm that had gotten in. She threw off the blanket and lay down on her side, now in the light of the moon and street light from the window. They illuminated her figure, turning her into a silhouette of an acoustic guitar that had been forgotten on the bed.

      She was facing away from her husband, so her prominent ass was on Jan's side, and in this position it looked even bigger.

      She opened her eyes and stared for a long time at the far corner of the large bedroom, which was larger than the guest room. The tube of rema-lube cast a fairly large shadow on the wall, but that was more from the street lamp, which was apparently so lonely that it wanted to somehow attract attention to itself.

      She, not having had an orgasm, wanted to have something resembling it, stretching her hands to her navel and below. She was more excited by her velvety and at the same time silky skin than by sex with her husband, and she certainly set a goal – to finish, to groan and have nervous convulsions, which only happens during intense satisfaction.

      She climbed into the bedside chest of drawers on her side and with a precise movement of her hand took out a dildo, which was made of transparent silicone, but remembered that the lubricant remained on the nightstand on her husband's side, not wanting to climb over to his side, she wet the head with saliva and stuck it into her crotch and began to actively move it in different directions.

      Jan, of course, heard all this, but did not see, because he, as if in a doze, also turned over with his back to her.

      He heard her start to breathe deeply, and that the orthopedic mattress, despite the vibration dampening, still transmitted vibrations to his body. In the darkness of the night, in the moonlight, lay a naked man and a girl, looking in different directions, both awake.

      Diana massaged her breasts, occasionally putting her thumb in her mouth and closing her eyes. At that moment, she imagined that a second guy was fucking her in the mouth. She changed guys in her fantasies, imagining one, then another, and now she imagined that she lay down on a sports bench in a doggy style, and the gym goers took turns satisfying her, with music and the approval of those around her. She imagined how she would accidentally walk into the men's locker room, which was shrouded in water vapor, and start sucking everyone's cocks, splashing sperm on her face, smearing it on her face later, making a cosmetic mask.

      She felt like thousands of needles were pricking her buttocks, and she came so violently that she jerked her legs, and her husband could not help but wake up from such a movement, but he did not pretend to wake up, but gradually and quietly masturbated himself, hearing the sounds. He imagined his boss, who was flunked by Irina, and who was constantly picking on his presentations. He imagined that he was fucking her tomorrow in front of everyone and telling her:

      – Well, bitch, are you going to bullshit some more?!

      He came unexpectedly for himself, splashing the sheets, and his hand movements could not go unnoticed by his wife, if only she had turned over in his direction, even for a few seconds. But he didn't care now, he came, splashed and fell asleep.

      Diana did not want to take the phallus out of her vagina, she wanted to keep it inside, when it, warmed by her own warmth, warmed her. She fell asleep like that, and then did not hear how it slipped out, fell on the floor and stuck with a nipple, remaining not only until the morning, but until the next night, when she returned home, after some events.

      When he woke up in the morning, he found his wife already up and taking a shower, and not wanting to be distracted, he went to the kitchen, thinking about what to eat for breakfast, and what would be quick. And he cooked scrambled eggs with tomatoes, which he usually cooked when there was no time and concentration on something important was required, like today.

      Now, on any other day, he would have taken a shower and fucked Diana so hard that the neighbors would have to wake up without an alarm clock.

      Having had a quick breakfast, having washed his face in the kitchen sink, having washed his upper body a little, having wiped his face and body, he had a quick breakfast, collected the documents that had already been prepared in the evening, put them in a leather bag that he had bought at a buy-back. It was a good and rather stylish bag, but heavy, but he, having fallen in love with this business bag, almost never parted with it. When he held it in his hands and walked around the office, he imagined himself as a big boss, which was not far from the truth, he was a boss, but a middle-level one.

      – Hello, Yan Konstantinovich.

      – Hello,–